#the auditions were a joke too. they announced auditions for anyone who would like to because another thing about morangos is that it was

[torgawl]

everyone here was soooo excited because a national channel was going to bring back this iconic tv series, directed specifically to the youth, from our childhood and adolescence that we are so nostalgic about after 11 years for them to disappoint us all with the trailer because it looks like elite 2.0

[grapejuicestyless]

I Don’t Need Your Closure.

Harry Styles x Fem!Reader

Summery: In the storm that is change, Harry seems to forget the one constant in his life.

It was predictable that with the hiatus announced, there was no eighteen months. That was it. They had the time they had left and that’s all they had to give. I’d known it since Harry had told me almost two years ago. Telling me about the idea they’d drawn up after years of nonstop working, the twinkle in his eye showed more than excitement for a break, but for a new start.

I knew him like that. I knew when he was happy, or nervous. When he was beating himself internally after a shaky performance or he was trying to remain calm in the most intense situations. I could read Harry like the back of my hand. I knew him in and out. We’d stay up for hours talking and talking until we wanted to just about die from over sharing and opening wounds to each other we didn’t realize were there until we’d felt the comfort of confessing our truths to each other.

You realize a blanket of protection seems to wrap around yourself once you’re in such an emotionally trusting relationship. It’s subconscious yet dangerous. You forget why you even had walls put up so strong and forget how to catch yourself when you fall.

I always knew that with the break, permanent or now, whatever Harry had convinced himself, there would be changes in our lives.

How naïve I was to believe it would be good. Such a fool to have thought I would be there to grow and change with him. How blissfully unaware I was that Harry had fallen so far into the wonderful newness of a fresh start that he forgot to love the one thing he’d always had.

I dedicated six years of my life to him. Having been asked out by the curly headed boy just weeks before his audition. The blush evident on his cheeks and the nervousness projecting through his bleeding cuticles and his bitten lips. I still had the, “We believe Harry has the X-Factor” t-shirt folded neatly at the bottom of one of my drawers.

And how invested I had become through his career. Helping him on the nights where it just all seemed too much for a teenage boy to be dealing with. When he felt neglected or abused, forgotten by his old friends or exploited by the tabloids so young, I had been the one to pick him up and work him through it. Sleeping pressed against his body in his tour bus so tightly we joked I would leave an indent in his side.

So, when he began to start his new album, and planned to fly far away to get into the right headspace, I couldn’t have imagined he had wanted me away from him. Always being told I was his biggest muse for everything he had done, I was blind sighted by everything he’d done.

It was cruel, and twisted the way I could have poured my everything into someone just for them to leave me dry and bleeding out.

The knowledge that he had this wonderful new start, a new success and dropped the one thing that stayed through his lowest points was like picking the scab over and over and watching it bleed.

It made me wish I hadn’t spent so much time devoted to him.

I was happy for him when the album was a success. It was obvious when he’d left me I still rubbed some final inspiration onto his work. His songs, ‘Only Angel’ and ‘Two Ghosts’ perfectly depicting situations only we’d been through. The way his fans practically ran to his aid after finding out about our separation almost made me even more angry. How quickly they were able to victimize him and coddle him made me sick.

What about me? What about the woman you’d welcomed into the fandom family with open arms so long ago. The woman who you’d stop on the streets for photos with and tell all about you day to? What about me, who was suffering in this all alone. No support from anyone. All my friends, were his. When we split, it only made sense for them to drift from me. I was a loose end meant to be severed.

So all alone, for a year or two, I watched him tour and bask in his new success, while I watched farther than ever before, selfishly wishing he would crumble under the pressure and fall face first. And even in my pity party, I couldn’t find a single piece of me that could hate him.

Sometimes he sent letters. I got them. All decorated with fancy boarders and sparkling wording that swooped and swirled in beautiful cursive letters. Invitations to house parties and shows nearby. Tickets prepaid, and VIP passes sent in the envelope.

Him and his constant need to leave no traces of bad blood in his life. His persistence in trying to be friends again. Trying to have a relationship together. He longed to have that stability he once had in his life.

Sure, we’d both dated around. Him, a tall brunette I didn’t recognize for a month and me, a few dates here and there. None ever stuck though. That knowing that someone was out there that I’d trusted enough to confess my deepest, most twisted confessions to had the ability to just walk out and have no care for the wreckage they’d left behind ruined everything I once adored. I grew trust issues. I found it hard to confide in even my closest friends, even if they’d done nothing wrong to lose it.

But, if that closure was what he wanted from me. If being friends would iron it out so nice for him, then I didn’t want it. It was like he was reaching out across a sea he had put between him and me. Trying to fix the distance he had purposefully placed when he left my life for the first and last time.

I missed him. I missed his vanilla cologne and his sweet kiss pressing across my face on the lazy mornings. I missed his hands in my hair and our drunken giggles. I miss him, still. All the time I think about how our family could’ve grown. How we could’ve been parents with little copy’s of each other running around. How we could’ve laid in the cozy living room arguing on if they looked more like him or me and eventually swooning over the features they got from each of us. I imagined I would say, “He has your eyes” and he would tell me our son had my smile.

But those daydreams could eventually drift away. I would continue to heal the longer I spent away from him. I would continue to grow and learn to trust and I would marry. I would find someone who could treat me the way I wished Harry had and I would forget about the man who ripped out my heart and made me forget how to breathe.

I would move on, and the letters will stop. If he really cares, he could come to me and beg on his knees. If he wanted to, he could. But he doesn’t so he doesn’t deserve what I could give him.

Yes, I got your letter. Yes, I’m doing better. I know that it’s over. I don’t need your closure.

[seasonofthewicth]

nobody does it like you do - act 2

Thank you so much for all your reactions to part 1! I hope you enjoy part two just as much :)

CW: mentions of past minor character death (incl. a pregnant woman)

7.3k - masterlist - ao3

--

Her first day of shooting isn’t great. It’s not bad by a long way, but it could have easily been better. They’re on location in a forest somewhere in the outskirts of Rifthold and she didn’t even know there were places in the city like this, she’d assumed it was all the sprawling metropolis of skyscrapers and crowded streets, but apparently not.

She’s cold. There’s a machine beating down torrents of fake rain on her and Fenrys where they stand opposite each other on the muddy path through the trees, they’re filming the scene where their characters first meet. Her feet are soggy inside the canvas trainers she’s wearing and they keep spraying water on her hair to keep the wet look running throughout all of the takes and she hates it. She’s uncomfortable and stiff but she comforts herself with the knowledge that Fenrys is the same if the frown he wears whenever the camera isn’t on him is anything to go by.

It helps, barely.

She keeps having to spit water out of her mouth between lines, she swears it never rains this heavily in real life but who is she to comment, and she watches Rowan’s lips twist in displeasure where he sits behind the camera every time she does it. Aelin’s not sure what else she’s supposed to do, he can sit there out of the line of the water all fine, but she can’t speak with her mouth full.

It can take time to fall into the natural rhythm of shooting a new project, even the shitty ones she’s done in the past have shown her that, but there’s something about the way Rowan watches her that prickles the back of her neck, his stare intense and heavy as he watches, that adds the pressure. She wants to show him that she can do this. She wants his approval.

She ignores the reasons why.

After they finish and Rowan has called cut she sulks back to her trailer, she’s only just managed to change out of her sodden clothes when there’s a knock at the door. It’s Fenrys, warm and dry now in his own change of clothes.

They’ve sort of become friends recently, after swapping numbers after the table read he had texted her first. The studio has put him in the same complex as her and they’ve shared a car back there a couple of times after some of their meetings. She likes him a lot actually, and while she knows his reputation of infamy with the ladies follows him around like a bad smell, she feels comfortable with him.

“That could have gone better,” he tells her as he flops down onto the two-seater sofa at the end of her trailer, the other half has a mound of clothes dumped on it that she hasn’t bothered to sort through yet.

She just shoots him a look that she hopes says tell me about it.

“Tomorrow will be better,” he tells her, reassuringly. He would know she supposes, he has far more experience than her.

“I hope so.”

“How’re you finding it so far, working with Rowan?” he asks, and she frowns, bristling at the fact that he somehow knows the worst question to ask already. Aelin doesn’t think she’s behaved weirdly around Rowan since the day at the table read, in fact she’s tried to avoid him where possible. Maybe that’s it.

“Fine,” she says, but that’s not quite true. It messes with her in a dangerous way every time she knows he’s watching her. She should be able to turn that part of her brain off during a scene, she trained for years to learn how to do that, but he gets to her. She’s working on it.

Fenrys laughs, seeing right through her.

“He’s not bad once you get to know him, the first time we worked together I thought he was a total dick.” She gives him the same look as before as she clears the clothes and sits down next to him.

“I swear he’s not that bad. He’s just-” Fenrys pauses, weighing her up with a look, and something that he takes in from the way she stands, gnawing on her lower lip with her hair still wet, has him saying; “He’s got a lot riding on this.”

“Why?”

It doesn’t feel like he has a lot riding on this, his last piece was nominated for the Oscars, how much higher than that can you get? It’s not like he’s in the same position as her, desperately clawing herself back to a place where she can be cast in a role and it not be followed by a stunned, oh?

She knows there were articles written when her casting was announced that were doubtful of her ability to do this movie, that questioned whether she’s up to the task and whether she’s good enough to be standing next to names like Fenrys and Rowan. Some of the articles were straight up mean, and she only knows that because she searched them up like a masochist when all the ones Elide sent over were far too nice.

A dark part of herself can’t help but fall prey to some of the headlines. The ones that throw around words like nepotism, the ones that question whether Aelin is talented enough to be where she is cut deeper than any knife, and only half of it is because she sometimes wonders the same. She should be better than that, but the reminder catches in her throat that she really does have a lot riding on this.

“It’s not really my place to say.”

That’s a load of shit, and she tells him so. He only shrugs, not willing to so openly gossip about their boss.

“How well do you know him exactly?” She’s fishing for any details, but it definitely could be passed off as casual curiosity.

“He directed my debut, we keep in touch every so often.” He’s nonchalant. “He asked me to audition for this.”

“Nice humble brag.”

Fenrys only flashes her his movie star grin, in combination with the wink he throws at her it’s almost an effort not to blush.

“He wanted you cast, you know?” That she didn’t know, but it’s nice to hear.

“Why? He doesn’t know me.”

“You’re hard work, you know?” He’s joking but it doesn’t sit quite right. She knows it’s true. “Come with us tonight. There's a group of us getting dinner, and you can ask him yourself.”

It’s an olive branch. She knows it’s obvious to everyone that she’s uncomfortable, still hasn’t quite found her feet on set after taking such a break, and it’s one that she’s grateful for. No matter how closed off she knows she still seems to them.

“Okay,” she says and Fenrys’ smile is genuine and a part of her lifts, it’s a start.

They share a car to the restaurant and he fills the journey with easy chatter. She appreciates it because she feels really fucking rusty. It’s been a while since she spoke to anyone outside of her immediate circle of friends and family, and it’s always been easy with them. This is different, but not unwelcome.

Sometimes she worries that, as much as they love her, Aedion, Lysandra and Elide are inclined to tread lightly around her. She’d like to think that she’s not that fragile, that she could take the full front of their humour and teasing like she used to, but then remembers when Fenrys’ joke fell flat for her in the trailer and she thinks again.

Either way, the cast and crew here don’t treat her like she’s broken, or even breakable, and it’s refreshing.

Fenrys leads the way into the restaurant, and there’s definitely paparazzi down the street snapping away at them as they cross the short distance from the car to the door. She tries to ignore it, she’ll text Elide once they’re done here, even though Elide will probably be overjoyed. It’s probably (definitely) easier to publicise your talent when she’s out there doing things with other famous people compared to staying inside her home alone.

Fenrys greets the staff on the door and they lead them through the restaurant to a staircase at the back of the room and it leads up to a private space with only one table. Right, privacy. Some of these guys are proper celebrities.

They’re the last ones there, and there’s two seats left at the table. Manon is here, so is Rowan and one of the executive producers who she thinks is called Gavriel.

“Alright guys, you all know Aelin,” Fenrys says and she smiles as they greet her.

Fenrys holds a chair out for her, the one next to Rowan, and she slides into it as he takes the one on her other side.

Rowan offers her a quirk of his lips, one she returns as she takes him in. He’s wearing short sleeves this time and she gets a good look at the tattoo snaking the whole way down his left arm. It’s in the Old Language and she can’t read it, even though her father had spent hours trying to teach her when she was a kid, but the lettering is beautiful and neat. She wants to reach out and touch, to trace the lines that roll down his golden skin.

She doesn’t. Obviously.

A waiter comes over to take their drink orders, Fenrys gets a beer, Manon and Gavriel opt for wine, but Rowan asks for an orange juice. He’s not drinking either and she wonders if it’s related to the reason he needs this movie to go well. So she’s nosy? So what?

She sits back and observes as the conversation flows, laughing along at the easy banter that flows between the three men and the sarcastic quips Manon throws in. Fenrys clearly understated his relationship with Rowan, they seem tight and have a clear fondness for one another. It’s easy to slot herself in as the night progresses, snarking with Manon and joining in with the general light-hearted mockery of Fenrys.

She thinks maybe so far she’s got Rowan wrong.

Tonight he’s quick-witted and charming, and he makes his best effort to include her in the conversation which she appreciates. It’s a contrast to the dark and teasing side of him she’s seen so far in the hallway and the table read. Maybe he’s decided to just start again, pretend they never met before she was cast, and she can do that too.

“So, Aelin.” Manon turns the spotlight to her after a while. “Tell us the scoop. I’ve not seen you in anything for a while.”

It’s not a nasty question, Aelin can just tell from the way she asks it, nothing more than genuine curiosity lies in her tone even if the phrasing is somewhat harsh. Manon might not be the bubbliest of characters, she’s blunt and doesn’t beat around the bush, but she’s not unkind, and Aelin doubts if she knew the truth she’d ask that question in such a way.

Elide managed to keep the worst of her… career break? One could phrase it more like breakdown, out of the limelight. She somehow managed to keep the worst of it hidden, and Aelin will owe her that for the rest of her life.

All the world knows is that Sam was murdered when they were both still newbies to their respective industries, neither of them had had their big break yet, and after that she took a break. For three years.

She remembers the headlines from the time, most were in smaller magazines, Sam wasn’t famous enough to make the front pages. Her mouth tastes like bile.

Singer-Songwriter Sam Cortland, 20, murdered in random street attack in Orynth, girlfriend Aelin Ashryver unharmed and working with police to identify suspect.

No one knows she knelt there in his blood begging for him to open his eyes, not even Aedion, or Lysandra or Elide, and she blinks back the image now. Her hands are curled into fists below the table and she forces herself to uncurl them and lay them flat against her jeans.

“Yeah,” she says after clearing her throat. “I took a break from it all for a few years, but I’m back now obviously and really excited for it.”

Manon nods and Gavriel raises a glass. He’s been nothing but kind to her all night. He kind of reminds her of her father, though he’s not that old, probably not even forty yet. He’s softly spoken and counters each snarky comment from Fenrys or Manon with something softer but no less amusing.

“Good to hear,” Fenrys says with a grin, clinking his glass against Gavriel’s.

The way Rowan watches her as he raises his own glass in a toast to her, careful and without speaking, tells her he knows. At least the basics about Sam, and it seems like maybe he did google her just like she joked back at the table read.

Their meals arrive then, mercifully taking the attention away from her. She needs to find a better way to deal with the attention than shutting down, especially if this film is going to be as big as everyone thinks it will be. She should call her therapist.

She will.

Eventually.

They leave the restaurant not long after, Fenrys covering the bill, emphasising that this was a celebration and an initiation for Aelin. She almost blushes for some unknown reason at his words, but she likes it. It sounds good. Like she really is back, or at least will be.

They each give her their numbers, and she likes the way he’s in her phone now as Rowan rather than Rowan Whitethorn, it feels like he’s not just someone from work. Not just her boss.

They each say goodbye and share a series of embraces, ignoring the small group of paparazzi that follow, desperate for any kind of incriminating image of any of the five of them. It’s clear that most of them are here for Fenrys, but she still makes sure to keep her expression clear and guarded as Rowan wraps her into a one-armed hug when they leave. It’s not just for the paparazzi.

Back in her apartment, when she’s tucked up in bed knowing she should be asleep, she can’t stop herself from googling him. She’s honestly surprised she’s lasted this long.

The first few news articles to come up are all about the movie and she scrolls past them, instead pulling up his Wikipedia page and scrolling straight to the personal life section. Maybe this is the weirdest way anyone’s ever got to know a friend, but she’s intrigued and still slightly flustered by him so it will do.

The section on his personal life is relatively bare, and it doesn’t surprise her. His Instagram account alone told her pretty explicitly that he’s a private kind of guy. She almost scrolls away after the first few lines, they don’t give her much information other than the college he went to and the languages he speaks, but she reads the final few lines of the section anyway.

In March 2018 Whitethorn’s fiance, Lyria Woods, passed away as the result of a road traffic accident. The driver of the other vehicle was found to be under the influence of alcohol at the time of the accident and was later sentenced to 6 years in prison for death by dangerous driving. Woods was 12 weeks pregnant with their child at the time of the accident.

Only a couple of weeks after the Oscars that she and Lysandra watched. She does the maths and realises this is his first film since then and thinks she knows what Fenrys meant.

Fucking shit.

Her second day of shooting goes better than the first, just as Fenrys said it would.

She’s more relaxed when she crosses the set from her trailer with a coffee in hand and she thinks she knows her place a little better now, even after only one night spent with the others.

She lies back while her make up is done, chatting to the make-up artist instead of sitting silently like the day before, and she’s almost ready for the discomfort that her wet hair will bring. The weather adds to the atmosphere of the film, dark and dreary and moody, and she gets why they’re doing it, but it still sucks.

Fenrys is ready when she gets there, and while she’s not avoiding Rowan today after finding out about his… past, she just finds it difficult to look him in the eye knowing what she does. He probably wouldn’t be surprised that she knew, if it’s on Wikipedia it’s public knowledge and they have made jokes about googling each other, but she feels weird in a way that she didn’t learn it from him. It feels intrusive, or invasive, to find out about something like that through Wikipedia.

But even though they bonded somewhat last night, and he greeted her this morning with an easy hey, they’re still not close. No matter that she thinks she might want them to be. She’s trying again to ignore the way she feels drawn to him, the way her eyes seek him out without her permission.

She knows she kills the take. Knows it from the high five Fenrys slaps against her palm once Rowan’s called cut and from the swift nod he offers her when she glances towards him.

There seem to be two Rowan’s too, there’s the award winning director Rowan Whitethorn, and then just Rowan.

Rowan Whitethorn is cool and calculating and distant, quiet while he watches their scene from his place behind the camera, the big black headphones he uses pushed down around his neck. His eyes are as sharp as a hawk’s while he watches for all the minute details of their expressions and any improvements they could make. He doesn’t give her that many she’s pleased to note.

The way he instructs them is impressive, with clear directions and thoughtful analyses. She’s been here two days and she knows how he got the Oscar nomination, he’s scarily intelligent and seems to know exactly what’s off about a performance before she figures it out herself.

The other side to him, the side that is just Rowan is…

Just Rowan is the one she likes more.

She suspects the smile he gives her later, after they’ve nailed the bulk of the scene in one take and she’s being twirled around by Fenrys, comes from him.

She has two full days off in a row, and she decides the best use of her time is to go and stay with Aedion and Lysandra. Fenrys isn’t free, and the reason she is is that he has a load of solo scenes to shoot, and she doesn’t envy him at all.

Lysandra is ecstatic when she announces via a group text to her and Aedion that she’ll be at their house for lunchtime, and she loves it, but it makes her feel a little guilty. That she’s let it get to the point when her friend reacts like that at her promise of a visit is quite frankly appalling, but she finally feels as if she’s taken the first step. She’s on the bottom rung of the ladder, and it’s taken her a while, but she’s there now.

Aedion and Lysandra live in a disgustingly big house in a gated part of the suburbs, and she knows the house isn’t exactly what they would have chosen in an ideal world, it’s too big and garish and grey, but there are gates by the entrance and 24 hour security.

It still messes with her head that Aedion is that famous. Aedion. Her gangly cousin, always too tall for his own good, who used to pull her hair when they were kids and sneak her extra helpings of cake at family parties before her parents divorced. She doesn’t know that much about football, so little in fact that her dad and Aedion teased her relentlessly for years, but everyone tells her he’s good.

Like really good.

The salary he gets from the Ravens is more than enough proof.

She rings their front door bell and she can hear Lysandra’s quick steps before the big wooden door is pulled open.

Her friend is glowing. Her dark hair falls into waves near the end and her staggeringly beautiful face is free of any make-up and unblemished and dewy. She’s had time to get over the insecurities that come from being friends with Lysandra so it barely phases her as she wraps her arms around her friend.

“I’ve missed you,” she whispers into Lysandra’s hair. It smells like coconut and citrus and just Lysandra.

“I missed you too. So much,” Lysandra sighs as she pulls back, dragging Aelin into the house and shutting the door.

Their hallway is grand and open but there’s a pile of their shoes by the wall and a rack of coats that make it feel more homely. There are framed photos carefully arranged on the sideboard in the entry way that show the two of them with their whole family and all of their friends.

There’s one on there of Aelin and Lysandra at eighteen, their arms thrown tightly around each other while they grin massive, excited smiles at the camera, or more likely Elide behind it. She remembers the day it was taken, Lysandra had signed to her first agency and arranged to move to Rifthold, and they had taken her out to celebrate.

It was around the same time she signed for her first movie, a tiny role with two lines and twenty seconds of screen time but it got the ball rolling with her first proper acting credit, and she’ll never forget it.

A head of golden hair pokes around the kitchen doorway at the end of the hall and she lets her cousin sweep her up into a hug, swinging her up and around so her feet dangle above the floor.

“Alien, we’ve missed you.”

A stupid nickname from when they were young, the kind of young where he thought it was hilarious to replace her name with an extraterrestrial, but it only makes her smile now, squeezing her cousin tight before he puts her back down.

“Yeah, I bet you’ve been lost without me.” She beams at them, taking a moment to soak in how it feels to be with them even as Aedion rolls his eyes. “I’ve missed you both too.”

“Lunch is ready, come on,” Aedion tells her as he takes her case and drags it through the house, leaving it by the bottom of the stairs. It’s then that she spots the frilly pink apron tied around his waist.

“Alright,” she laughs. “I can’t wait to try what the domestic goddess has in store for us.”

Peals of laughter burst out of Lysandra and she grins back at her, forever grateful that they managed to keep their relationship with each other from ever impacting on their relationship with Aelin. At first she had been worried that Aedion and Lysandra would become AedionAndLysandra and that she wouldn’t have a place left with them, but she needn’t have worried, and they worked too well together for Aelin to have ever wished for anything different.

“Gods, shut up,” he mutters, slinging an arm around her shoulders and leading her to the kitchen. “So annoying, both of you.”

She grins as she hears Lysandra smack an overly dramatic kiss to his cheek.

Aedion’s a surprisingly good cook, the lunch he’s made is tasty despite being carefully planned to fit into both his and Lysandra’s strict meal plans. If they’re the cost needed to be able to live in a house like this, Aelin doesn’t want it.

“So,” Aedion says after he’s finished chewing a mouthful. “How are things going?”

He asks it with a gentle kind of sensitivity that she understands what he’s really asking. She knows it’s code for are you still sober? but she also knows he hasn’t asked it because he doubts her. Aedion and Lysandra have always been in her corner, even in her darkest moments they were there.

She never wants to put them through anything like that ever again. Never wants them to experience anything as terrifying as the last night she ever touched a drug. That night, almost a year ago now, will forever be the bottom of her pit. She doesn’t remember much of it, other than the devastation on Aedion’s face as he carried her out of the men’s toilets of a seedy nightclub in Perranth. The way he’d bitten his lip as he picked her up off the sticky floor, pulling the hem of her dress down to cover her underwear where it had ridden up.

The thought makes her sick.

He’d had to skip a game, leading to a bollocking from his coach, but he’d done it for her. Had carried her out of the club and into a car, waiting to take them back to his house. Lysandra had stroked her hair where she lay on the cool tiles of the bathroom floor while Aedion called a doctor to the house. Even through his panic he had thought of her and how little she would want it publicised that she’d been pulled out of a club, off her fucking rocker on whatever substance she’d been given by the lowlives she had fallen in with. She’s really, really lucky that for once Aedion hadn’t been followed by paparazzi.

She takes a sip of her sparkling water before she answers, it feels like all she ever drinks these days and it tastes like shit but it’s worth it if she never reverts back to where she was.

“I’m good.” She’s almost surprised to find that it’s true. “I’m feeling much better.”

She can barely look at them, can barely take the level of subdued joy on their faces.

“We’re glad Aelin, really glad.” Lysandra’s voice is sincere.

“So, how’s the new project going?” Aedion asks her, sensing her discomfort almost immediately.

“That’s good too actually.” It is. It feels good to have something positive to focus on, something that she feels is productive and worth doing. “It’s nice to be back and be busy even if the morning shoots begin disgustingly early. It’s good to be on set, surrounded by it all again and to remember that I can actually do this.”

She stabs her fork through a piece of tomato a little aggressively as she finishes and the look Lysandra shoots her tells her she’s not impressed with the self-deprecation but that she’ll let it slide for now.

“And Fenrys Moonbeam, is he really that good looking in real life?”

Aelin laughs. “More actually, sometimes it's too much.”

“Nice,” Lysandra nods appreciatively.

“Is he alright though?” Ever the overprotective older brother figure, she expected some version of this question from Aedion.

“He’s great. He’s hilarious and it really helps on the long days,” she says before taking her next bite.

“And Rowan Whitethorn’s directing isn’t he? What’s he like?”

Aelin blinks and finishes chewing slowly. “He’s… fine.”

She knows she’s fucked it when Aedion and Lysandra share a look, matching smirks beginning on each of their faces.

“Fine,” Lysandra repeats. “What exactly does fine mean Aelin?”

She purses her lips. “He’s a great director.”

Lysandra rolls her eyes. “And?”

She could probably lie here, they’d probably let it slide if she said some bullshit about how they’ve not spoken much and how she barely knows him, but she honestly needs to talk to someone about this. You know, to set her straight.

“And he’s really hot.”

She’s blushing as Lysandra laughs and Aedion chuckles.

“You’ve got a crush,” Lysandra sing-songs, and when she doesn't respond she says, “Have you got a picture of him? I don’t think I actually know what he looks like.”

She can’t blame Lysandra for that, she’s still kicking herself for not recognising him that day in the hallway, but he was only on screen for a few seconds at the Oscars and it wasn’t long after Sam so it wasn’t like she was paying attention in that way. She still thinks she should have noticed.

She pulls her phone out to find the only picture she has on there with Rowan. She had only taken it this week when they were eating breakfast with Fenrys one morning, in one of the tents that had been set up for them to sit in between takes, and Fenrys had pulled his phone out to snap a photo of her for his Instagram story.

She’d been wrapped up in one of the huge parkas they’re given for the times in between scenes holding her croissant high up in the air when he’d taken it. He’d captioned it she could have dropped her croissant and tagged her, and she’d gained a good few thousand followers. She’s almost at a million and they’re only a couple of weeks into shooting.

She had taken one of him in response and then spun around to force Rowan into a selfie with her, he’d protested but she’d pouted until he relented, grumbling something about actors that she knew he didn’t mean. She didn’t post it anywhere, she kept it to herself and she can’t lie, she’s looked at it way too many times since.

She’s smiling a wide smile, cheeks stuffed full of her croissant and it’s really kind of gross, but the small smile on Rowan’s face makes it bearable. More than bearable, she has to resist the temptation to make it her lock screen because that would be weird.

She remembers the heat of his chest where he had stood behind her to lean down so their faces were level, the hand he rested on her shoulder to steady himself and the way his fingers had brushed against her neck in the lightest caress.

She hands the phone over to Lysandra and wants to pull it back almost immediately.

It’s not that she’s embarrassed or whatever, even if they think it’s a bad idea they’d let her down gently, it's just that their opinion matters to her a lot. And while they haven’t exactly approved of her string of random hookups in the years since Sam, they’ve never tried to comment on it other than to check she’s in a good place with it, but she knows they’re waiting for the next person she sees seriously.

There’s a fairly large part of her that thinks her first relationship since Sam shouldn’t be with her boss. And that fucks her up a bit, because since when was she considering a relationship with him?

“Oh yeah,” Lysandra says, scaring away the intrusive thought and raising one perfectly arched eyebrow. “He’s hot alright.”

Aedion nods along, peering over Lysandra’s shoulder. Lysandra’s eyes are far too knowing when she looks back up at Aelin and passes the phone over. She doesn’t say a word before locking the phone and sliding it back into her pocket.

“You’ll have to invite us to set sometime.” Lysandra is sneaky but not subtle.

“I will,” she agrees.

The next week flies by, she shoots every single day but one, and she’s far too exhausted each night to do anything other than scrounge up a measly meal that can be pulled together from her cupboard basics and the limited vegetables in her fridge before falling straight asleep. They’ve made good progress so far, and she knows it's going to be good, but she’s tired.

She’s seen a lot more of the process outside of her own character by now too, and she’s amazed, but not surprised, when she persuades one of the crew to let her watch back one of Fenrys’ solo scenes from the previous week. He’s a phenomenal actor, that much is clear, but she had allowed herself to get caught up in Fenrys as her friend, the happy and funny guy she spends her time with, forgetting the talented and driven lead actor of their movie.

Not that she can forget it in the scenes they share, but she’s mostly concentrating on the emotions her character is going through, and responding to what Fenrys gives her. It almost feels too natural for him, and she forgets that it takes work.

His text meets her at lunchtime on the Sunday they both have off, when she’s still in her pyjamas on the couch, debating whether to start a new series or watch the latest cheesy rom-com that Netflix has released.

She auditioned for one of them a couple of years ago, and she’s far enough past the bitterness that comes with not getting the role that she could enjoy it. Maybe a little, cynical part of herself thinks she’s glad she didn’t get it. What she has now is far better. She’s being a snob, but she straight up doesn’t care. It’s not like anyone else is here to judge her.

Fancy coming to Rowan’s to watch the game? I’m leaving in 20 his text reads.

She didn’t plan on doing anything today, but the invitation sparks something in her, and she’s never been to Rowan’s place before. The studio put him in a house about thirty minutes from set, and she’s curious. How much luxury does the big name director get compared to what she and Fenrys have got? She’s lucky really, that Dorian managed to negotiate the same for her as they offered Fenrys.

rowan’s??? She replies, followed by what game????

She gets up off the couch, putting the lid on the tub of yoghurt she was tucking into with a spoon and walking through to the kitchen to throw it back into the fridge.

Tall, grumpy guy that bosses us around all the time comes through a minute later and she grins at her phone at the description. It’s followed up by Ravens v Panthers.

She taps out, getting changed will be ready in 15 and he replies with three smiling emojis.

She doesn’t think it will be anything fancy if her impromptu invitation is anything to go by so she only swaps her pyjama bottoms with tiny cartoon sheep down the legs for a pair of black leggings and throws a sweatshirt over her oversized t-shirt.

Manon is there when they get there, sprawled across the two seater sofa at the far side of Rowan’s living room, and she gives them both a wave when they enter the room. The house is a pretty modest, two-up two-down in a sweet neighbourhood and it’s cosy inside with relatively modern decor. She doesn’t know for sure whether or not that fits Rowan, but she feels like it does.

He doesn’t let them in, Fenrys swings the door open and marches in like it’s his own place and she wonders how much he and Rowan have hung out, or whether that’s just him. Rowan appears in the doorway about a minute after they come in, a bowl of snacks in his hand that she thinks could be popcorn and he puts it down before coming over to wrap Fenrys in a hug. They slap each other on the back in the way that guys do before pulling back.

Aelin stands at Fenrys’ side watching the exchange, unsure whether to greet Rowan or just take a seat, and once they’re done he seems to regard her with the same sort of uncertainty. Fenrys darts around Rowan to throw himself onto the other sofa and she doesn’t give herself long enough to doubt her decision before she opens her arms and steps towards him.

“Hey,” he says simply as he wraps her into a brief hug. “Thanks for coming.”

She wraps her arms around his own broad shoulders, and it feels nice. He’s warm and strong beneath her hands and the way his arms loop around her waist, so far his hands reach back around to her stomach, gets her in a way that she really doesn’t need to think about. It feels really good pressed up against him like that.

“Hey,” she breathes as he pulls back, and she knows he sees the blush on her cheeks. She’s not fifteen, she really needs to sort herself out. “Thanks for having us.”

“Of course, make yourself at home.” He gives her another half smile, offering a flash of his straight, white teeth, and again she’s struck by him. That his place is behind the camera is a crime. “I’ve got more snacks and drinks in the kitchen if you want.”

“Beer?” Fenrys asks her, already heading to a door that she assumes leads to the kitchen.

She shakes her head, “do you have sparkling water?” She directs the question to Rowan who nods.

He doesn’t have to speak before Fenrys says “on it,” and leaves the room.

She assesses the seating choices left in the room, there’s a cream two-seater sofa opposite where Manon lies, and that’s probably her best bet, but Rowan has already taken his seat on it, an ankle crossed over a knee as he settles into the cushions. There’s plenty of room to sit by him and not touch, and she weighs it up against having to ask Manon to move.

She’s friendly with the girl, but still feels slightly intimidated by the calculating and sarcastic blonde despite the fact that she’s a few years younger than Aelin herself, so maybe Rowan is the safer choice.

Fenrys comes back into the room just as she takes her seat.

“Move your feet, Blackbeak,” he demands as he hands her a glass of sparkling water, it’s chilled with a couple of cubes of ice and she appreciates it.

Manon lifts her legs for Fenrys to sit, but plops her legs back down across his lap immediately and sticks her tongue out at him as she does. Aelin feels herself smile at the display, and the fact that she’s included in this circle of friends. She hasn’t really made an effort with anyone new since Sam, the only people she’s really spoken to are Elide, Lysandra and Aedion, and they were all there for her before Sam. It feels really damn good.

She really, really, doesn’t understand the rules of football, but it’s easy enough to cheer along when the others do and laugh at their outrage when something doesn’t go their way. It’s the most animated she’s seen Rowan so far, and she’s not quite sure which way their allegiances lie, but it’s probably with the Ravens being in Rifthold and all, and she knows her own is.

Everytime Aedion gets the ball or is shown on screen she can’t hold back the cheers. She’s proud of him and she knows how hard he works to be as good as he is, and even knowing as little as she does, it's special to watch him excel.

Rowan and Fenrys both seem a little starstruck that he’s her cousin, to her he’s just Aedion and they’re the real, scary celebrities, but they gush about him like starstruck little boys.

“And you were at his house last weekend?” Fenrys cries, almost outraged that this is the first he’s ever heard of it, but honestly? They’re both Ashryvers; it’s not like it's a secret.

“Yes,” she laughs. “He’s basically like my brother.”

“Gods, Aelin.” He sounds almost pained that she hasn’t brought this up before. “You've been holding out on us! Please give me his number or introduce me or something.”

“Sorry.” She laughs again and throws a smile to Rowan that he returns with another quirk of his lips. “Invite me earlier next time and I’ll ask him to sort a box for us at the stadium.”

“Seriously?” Even Rowan sounds awed now.

“Yeah, just let me know,” she says. “It’s no big deal.”

It really wouldn't be, Aedion has been telling her for years to invite any friends she wants to games, she would just need some friends outside of him, Lysandra and Elide first.

“It’s definitely a big deal,” he says, watching her with a smirk still playing on his lips.

She shrugs. “Just make sure you text me early next time.”

“Oh, I will,” he says, and she has to look away from him. The way his voice curves around the words, all low and intense, is definitely about more than just the game.

She tries to pass it off as just looking to where Fenrys is cheering loudly at the next play, but Manon is there again, looking at her with such a knowing expression that she immediately focuses back on the TV.

At half time she needs to use the bathroom and Rowan gives her a quick rundown of the layout of the house. She’s quick to do her thing and runs by the kitchen afterwards to grab a refill of her drink and find something to eat.

Rowan had told them all to help themselves, explaining that he felt they had as much right as he to poke through the cupboards in the only just filled rental property and she gets it. The places the studio rent out for them are nice enough, and she’s more than grateful that they do, but it’s never quite home. Even if her home is somewhat impersonal, it’s still home.

She’s on her tiptoes, scanning through the relatively well stocked cupboards on the hunt for anything chocolate, when someone enters the kitchen behind her.

“I know I said help yourselves, but you’re going to eat me out of house and home at this rate.”

It’s Rowan, and he leans against the doorframe as he watches her startle and spin to face him, his legs are crossed at the ankles and his arms are folded over his chest. The pose highlights his powerful arms that she wants to be wrapped up in again and he looks really good in the dim lighting of the kitchen. It bounces off the lines of his tattoo, shining and highlighting the swirls that she can barely look away. She wants to ask what it means.

Aelin scoffs and pushes the cupboard door shut gently, they’re not eating that much and if they are it’s definitely not her, Fenrys and Manon are another story.

“There’s nothing stopping you from kicking us all out,” she says and he laughs, shaking his head.

He tilts his head to the side, his gaze picking her apart by the second before he says “maybe not all of you.”

His words and the way he shifts in the doorway as his eyes run her up and down gives her the confidence to bite her lip and look up at him through her lashes. He pushes off the door frame and comes to lean against the counter by her side.

He opens a cupboard door on her other side and rummages through a shelf before handing her a foil packet.

“I have a feeling this is what you were after.”

She accepts the chocolate and tucks it onto the counter at her side as she mirrors him and leans against it too.

“Unsurprisingly, you’d be correct.”

He presses his lips together before his lips twist again, it’s the same expression from before that she knows means he wants to smile but he can’t quite commit, and she feels her body loosen like she wants to lean forward to press into him. She doesn’t though.

What she does instead is take a sharp breath and a step back. “Thanks.” She waves the bar of chocolate in the air before stepping around him and making her way back into the living room, forcing her steps to seem calm and collected as she feels his gaze heavy on her back.

“Anytime.” His words follow her out of the room, they’re a promise.

Luckily, Fenrys and Manon both ignore it when Rowan follows her and retakes his place next to her.

[jungshookz]

omg mean mr. park trying so hard not to give ballet!y/n special treatment that he goes too hard in the other direction and makes her cry!!!! and he’s like well i can’t fix it here in front of all these people what do i do what do i do

➺ pairing; park jimin x reader

➺ genre; balletteacher!jiminiverse!!! except uhhhhhh jimin’s a little scary in this one not going to lie <3 

➺ wordcount: 3.6k

➺ what to expect; “and take those goddamn leg warmers off.”

➺ optional readings: one; two; three; four

➺ note; this has been one of the hoTTest requests for a long time which doesn’t make any sense to me because whenever i get asked to write about this specific scenario i’m like?? you?? you WANT me to make y/n cry???? also i hope u don’t mind but i changed ur original request just a teensy bit because i didn’t want y/n to have to cry in front of everyone again otherwise she’s just going to be known as the class cry-baby and we should at least give her a tiny crumb of dignity 

                                      »»————-　♡　————-««

jimin… is getting soft.

which isn’t super great because he feels like his reputation as scary strict ballet instructor is going to go down the drain and disappear forever if he keeps going on like this

it’s not like he can help himself when his girlfriend is one of his students

(which… is still a secret, by the way. the two of you are surprisingly very good at keeping things somewhat professional. teamwork makes the dream work, right?)

the other day in class he literally had to pinch his arm to remind himself to stOP looking at you so fondly

he caught himself in the mirror with this dumb little smile on his face and his eyes all bright and twinkly as he watched you dance

and it certainly didn’t help that you smiled back at him before wiggling your brows knowingly

he can’t do things like that!

he has to be more careful!!

he has to toughen up!

he has to take a stand!

he’s going to have to pull out the big guns to prove to everyone that no, i don’t have any favourites, and no, i’m certainly not romantically attracted and in a very real relationship with one of you, not at all!

it just feels like no one really takes him seriously anymore??

especially after he gave all of you guys individual roses on valentine’s day

sometimes he thinks that maybe that was a little extra of him but he did genuinely feel bad about keeping you guys here when you could’ve been out spending the night with your significant others

anyways

his point is

he thinks that everyone is starting to fear him less and less with every passing day and he just can’t have that

and it doesn’t help that yoU very openly don’t take him that seriously in class because then everyone sees that as their opportunity to not take him seriously as well

it’s like suddenly you’ve labeled yourself as the ringleader of this circus and now he’s just one of your clowns

that’s not the way things should be!!!

hE’S the ringleader of this stupid ballet circus!!!!

the other week when he announced that your guys’ break would be over in approximately thirty seconds, you just turned around to look at him with big, pleading eyes and: “can’t we have five extra minutes of break time, mr. park? please?” and obviously he couldn’t say no to that because of your dumb stupid pretty googly eyes

and he thought that that would be the worst of it but nO

he was very wrong

because it got worse

people are starting to show up in sweatpants and hoodies instead of leotards and chiffon skirts and if there’s anything he hates the moSt on this planet, it’s people who don’t dress for the part

he hated watching all of you prancing around the room wearing grubby HOODIES

disgusting!!!

you can wear whatever you want outside of class, but he likes to think that he’s made it relatively clear that once you are in the confines of his classroom, the standards are higher than the heavens above

so, yes

he’s decided that today is going to be the day he grabs the reins and takes control once more

today’s break will be ten minutes and ten minutes only - with no extensions!

if he has to yell at someone today for messing up a move, you bet your ass he’s going to do just that - show no mercy!

he’s mr. park!

he’s in charge!

“i’m in charge.” jimin mutters to himself as he stands outside the classroom door

he nods firmly to himself before pushing the door open

“alright, ladies! let’s get ready to do some warm up exercises…” jimin announces loudly as soon as he steps into the classroom, a couple of the girls rushing to get up from the ground (it’s nice to see that some of you are still scared of him)

he pushes his sunglasses up to the top of his head when he notices that you’re continuing to gab away in the corner with lisa and the others

“uh, hello?” he clears his throat and you turn to look over your shoulder

“oh! hold up, mr. park, i’m almost done telling my story. so as i was saying-“ you turn back to the girls and jimin frowns

see?

this is exactly what he was talking about

when he used to walk into the classroom everyone would immediately get into neat rows of four

and now?

there are five girls who are lined up

five girls out of TWENTY

jimin pokes his tongue against the inside of his cheek as he approaches you slowly, “miss y/l/n, i mean it.“ he warns, his grip tightening around his iced coffee, “finish your conversation now, please.”

he raises a brow when you flat out ignore him and he notices lisa reaching over to smack your kneecap before subtly gesturing upwards to him

he doesn’t know if you’re doing it on purpose but you’re really starting to push it

your shoulders drop as you let out a sigh and you turn around to look at him

“well?”

you frown and your lips twist  

“yeah, whatever- just gimme one more second, okay?“ you dismiss him with a flick of your wrist anD a roll of your eyes and his jaw drops in surprise

wha-

did you just-

did you-

did you just… flick your wrist at him?

and roll your eyes?

…

who exactly do you think you are?

jimin turns on his heel to go over to the cabinets that he usually puts his bag and his jacket in

he shakes his head and chuckles darkly to himself as the image of you flicking your wrist and rolling your eyes at him plays over and over again in his mind

are you serious?

did you actually do that to him?

in front of everyone?

wow

you really grew a pair since your ‘i’m 100% attracted to park jimin and i would love to sit on his face’ days, no?

what, you think that just because he’s your boyfriend that you get to get away with stunts like that?

how dare you!

outside of the classroom, yes, he’s your boyfriend, and yes, you can flick your wrist and roll your eyes at him all you want

but inside of the classroom?

jimin’s grip tightens around the edge of the cabinet door

absolutely fucking not.

the cabinet doors slam shut with a loud bang! and a couple of girls let out yelps of surprise at the sudden noise, “everyone get in line right now!”

your neck nearly snaps off from how quickly you turn to look and your eyes widen when you suddenly see everyone scrambling to get off the ground and to get in line

seriously??

you were almost done with your story :-//

you frown to yourself before getting up off the ground (and taking your time in doing so, because your knees are a little creaky this morning)

((you chose to snack on some crackers and dip instead of stretching before class because as far as you’re concerned, snacking is way more fun than stretching))

“y/n, let’s go-!“ lisa hisses and grabs your arm before dragging you up towards the front where you guys usually stand

“oh, would you relax?” you snort as you make your way to the front before moving into first position

you turn your head to let out a quiet yawn before turning back to face the front to see jimin looking directly at you

“am i boring you this afternoon, miss y/l/n?” he crosses his arms and you shrug sloppily in response  

jimin tilts his head, “can you use your words like a normal human being, please?”

you let out a sigh and resist the urge to roll your eyes at him again

he’s so uptight today!!

he was fine this morning before you left to go to class

what’s his problem??

“no, sir.” you raise a brow, “you’re not boring me. are you going to spend the rest of the class asking me questions or are we actually going to learn something today?”

in your peripheral vision you see lisa’s eyelids flutter shut and her head lower a little bit

what?

that was a genuine question!

it was supposed to be a joke???

tough crowd today lol

everyone can practically feel the tension in the air when jimin doesn’t immediately respond and instead glares at you with nothing but pure rage behind his brown eyes

“would you like to say that again, miss y/l/n?”

“oh, would you look at that? another question for me.” you chuckle lightly and look around at your peers to see if anyone else is cracking a smile

but everyone’s looking at you with wide eyes filled with what you can only make out to be complete and utter… is that fear?

even seulgi shakes her head no when the two of you lock gazes

???

what is going on today???

you turn back around and jump in surprise when you realize that jimin is now standing directly in front of you

and for the first time in a long time, you’re starting to feel a little nervous

you shift uncomfortably in your position and make an effort to stand up a little straighter

maybe you should-

“get out of my classroom.” jimin speaks lowly and your eyes widen in surprise

…

what?

“i-i’m sorry, sir?” you stammer before shaking your head, “i don’t unders-“

“get the hell out of my classroom, miss y/l/n!” he snaps before taking a step back and tilting his head at you, “and take those goddamn leg warmers off. do you think anyone at the academy is going to take you seriously if you show up to an audition with bright blue, fuzzy leg warmers with sheep all over them?”

oh god

okay

he’s not kidding

this isn’t funny anymore

“n-no sir, of course not-!” you shake your head quickly before bending down to yank your leg warmers off, “i-i’m not- i would never show up to an audition wearing these-”

you stumble over a little as you struggle to pull them off and lisa quickly reaches out to help you stay balanced

“can’t even keep yourself up on one foot without falling over, huh?” jimin scoffs before crossing his arms, “what, did you just sit on your ass for the entirety of quarantine?”

“of course not, mr. park.” you swallow thickly and shake your head again as you get back up onto your feet, tossing the leg warmers to the side, “i’m so sorry, sir.”

and just when you think you’re in the clear-

“don’t be sorry, just be ready.” jimin snaps and you feel your entire face flush bright red, “now get out. miss kang, can you move up to the front please?”

you’re not even bothered by the fact that you’ve just been replaced by seulgi

you’re more bothered by the fact that he just used his phrase on you

don’t be sorry

just be ready

don’t be sorry, just be ready  

that’s his phrase and he’s never once used it on you in the entire time that he’s taught you

he only uses that phrase when someone messes up really bad

and one thing you can say for sure is you very rarely mess up in class

he only uses that phrase when he’s angry!!!

“by the way, let this be an example to the rest of you, hm?” jimin paces up and down the front of the classroom slowly, everyone standing up as straight as pins as they look ahead, “every single one of you has been slacking immensely as of late and i won’t have it. the next person who shows up to my class wearing sweatpants and a dirty hoodie - well, i’m sure you’ll be comfortable out in the hallway. or maybe you’ll be comfortable not coming back to my class ever again.”

you lean over a little to peek over at jimin but quickly get back in line when he turns around

“miss y/l/n, i think i asked you to leave, did i not? i’m not going to ask you again.”

you jump when you feel seulgi tap on your shoulder from behind and she smirks at you in the mirror

“y-yes, mr. park.” your voice gives out halfway through and you turn on your heel to manoeuvre your way through the other girls to get to the door

“now that that’s been taken care of, this is what we’re going to do today…”

you shut the door behind you quietly

to say the least, that was…

humiliating!

sure, jimin’s always been a little (very) strict, but that was just plain mean

he yelled at you AND he kicked you out!

and you don’t think he’s ever been so harsh with any of the other girls before

you’ve seen him yell at the other girls but this felt more like a personal attack instead of criticism on dancing like it usually is  

and you always thought he liked your leg-warmers

:-(

…

uh-oh

it doesn’t take very long for your nose to prickle and your eyes to start welling up with tears

you sit down on the bench and your chin starts to tremble as you think about what just happened  

oh no

and now you’re going to cry?!

oh god

okay

no

no!

you can’t cry right now!

what if he comes out??

and sees you crying??

you cannOT cry in front of mr. park right now

the last time you cried in front of him was when you twisted your ankle but at least you had an excuse to cry because you were in physical pAIN

emotional pain is not the same as physical pain and therefore cannot be used as a legitimate excuse to start blubbering

you are not a cry-baby!!

your nose scrunches as you try your best not to let out a whimper and you blink quickly in an effort to make the tears go away but one single tear ends up rolling down your cheek

you reach up to swipe the back of your hand against your chin before putting your arms back down  

what are you supposed to do now?

you sniffle before leaning your head against the wall and crossing your arms

whatever

if you have to stay out here for the rest of class, you’re just going to take a nap and try noT to think about mean mr. park

                                                              ♡

“y/n… you feel someone shaking you gently and you shoot up from where you’re leaning against the wall

“wh- what-“ your voice is a little raspy from your sad-nap, “i wasn’t asleep-!”  

you relax a little when you see that it’s just lisa

you take a quick glance around to see that everyone’s packing their bags, so it’s safe to assume that class is done for the day

“mr. park wants to talk to you.” lisa whispers and glances back towards the classroom door, “by the way- you were a real idiot in there, you know that?”

“oh, god.” you reach up to pinch the bridge of your nose, “i know, i know! i don’t- i mean, i didn’t think he was going to kick me out-“

“hey, y/n! smooth move today-“ you’re cut off when suddenly seulgi pops up behind lisa and you can’t help but frown at how pleased she looks with these conditions, “thanks for handing your status as favourite student over to me on a silver platter!”

“can it, seulgi.” lisa scowls before shoving her gently

“the view was super great from the front.” she whistles, “mr. park is a lot hotter up close.”

you’ve never considered yourself to be a violent person, but…

you would give an arm and a leg just to strangle seulgi for a good five minutes <3  

lisa rolls her eyes and turns back to look at you, “good luck in there though, for real. you… you were real ballsy today.”

yikes

it takes you approximately one minute to muster up the courage to knock on the classroom door

you press your lips together tightly as your fist hovers over the surface of the door

just knock!

it’s not hard

just move your hand

you squeeze your eyes shut before tapping your knuckles against the door in three short beats

“come in.”

you swallow your nerves before pushing the handle down and opening the door slowly with a creak

okay

it’s fine!

you’re fine

class is over, which means mean mr. park is gone and nice boyfriend jimin is here, right?

…right??

you cautiously poke your head into the room

jimin’s busy packing up as well but his back is facing you which makes you feel a little better because if you’d opened the door and he was standing there staring directly at you, you probably would’ve immediately burst into tears

your poor sheep leg warmers are crumpled pathetically in the same spot where you tossed them

maybe you should just grab your leg warmers and run for the hills

“you… wanted to… see me?” you clear your throat and freeze when jimin turns his head to look over his shoulder

“yes, i did. shut the door and come here.”

okay, well

there goes your chance to run for the hills

you’re basically traPPEd in here now

you hesitantly shut the door behind you and you feel your heart starting to beat a little harder in your chest as you make your way over to the middle of the room

you keep your gaze downwards as jimin stands in front of you and you clasp your hands in front of you, twiddling your thumbs nervously

a moment of silence ticks by and you want nothing more than for the ground to cave and just swallow you up entirely

“you know why i had to do that, right?”

“because we’re… da…ting?” you offer weekly before lifting your head up to look at him

jimin scoffs before shaking his head, “no. you blatantly disrespected me in front of your peers, that’s why i kicked you out. your attitude today was completely unacceptable. completely.”

oop

okay

it appears that your theory about mean mr. park disappearing as soon as class ended was incorrect

to be fair… he is right

you have to admit that maybe you let the fact that you guys are dating cloud your judgement a little

obviously he’s not going to show you special treatment in class just because of that

you feel your insides twist when the realization sinks in that you were… kind of an asshole today

and you pride yourself on being a good student!

you immediately drop your head once more as your cheeks flush in shame, “yes, mr. park. i’m… i’m sorry for my poor behaviour today, sir. i disrespected you in your classroom and it won’t happen again.”

“it better not.” jimin nods, “apology accepted, miss y/l/n.”

you chew on the inside of your cheek anxiously

you’re not… too sure what you’re supposed to say now

you hear jimin let out a sigh before he speaks up again, “i’m… your boyfriend, which i know makes things a little confusing, but… you can’t act like that when we’re in class, y/n.” he hooks a finger under your chin before tilting your head up, “just because we’re dating doesn’t give you an excuse to act like a prick, baby.”

“i know. i’m sorry.” you respond meekly and nod in understanding

jimin’s eyes soften when he notices you starting to get teary-eyed

!!!!

now he’s starting to feel bad!!!

he’ll admit that maybe he was a little harsher than usual and it was probably a little more than embarrassing being called out like that in front of your peers, but he had to what he had to do!

you flicked your wrist at him!

and rolled your eyes!

double whammy!

“y/n…”

“i thought you liked my leg warmers.” you whimper quietly and jimin snorts in response

that’s what you’re getting upset about??

your leg warmers??

“why are you- why are you laughing??” you whine when he begins to giggle softly and you reach up to wipe at your falling tears (though now you can’t tell if they’re tears of sadness anymore because the sound of jimin’s giggling never fails to put you in a better mood), “you were the ones who chose these dumb sheep ones for me to wear today so h-how am i supposed to feel when you-“

“oh my god, you moron-” jimin immediately tugs you in for a hug and props his chin up on the top of your head, “i do like your leg warmers! they’re really cute!”

“that’s not how it seemed-” you sniffle as you bury your face into the crook of his neck and wrap your arms around him

“it was the only way i knew to show you that i was being serious!”

“you know how i feel about my leg warmers-!” you pull away with a pout and jimin quickly leans down to plant his lips against yours (mainly to shut you up about your leg warmers, but also to make u feel a little better)

he gives you a couple of sweet pecks before reaching up to cup your cheeks in his hands, “will pizza for dinner tonight make you forgive me for insulting your precious leg warmers, silly girl?” jimin hums as he wipes your tears away with his thumbs before leaning down to nudge his nose against yours affectionately

“…throw in some dessert and i’ll think about it.”

help me help you make your wishes come tru (aka send me a request)

requested drabbles masterlist

[morkleemelon]

off the ice || chapter 3: steady now

previous || m.list || playlist || next

pairing: college hockey player! mark x college figure skater! reader

genre: fluff, humor, college au, sports au

word count: 6.9k

warnings: swearing, party with drugs and alcohol, scene of borderline harassment (nothing actually happens), financial struggle, insecurity, social anxiety, mention of injury

a/n: huge thank you to my beta readers @writing-frog​ and @skiimmiilk for helping me edit this! now I won’t have to tweak it a hundred times after posting XD also (not spoiling) I’m sorry I did you like this, sungchan :(

I’m not sure if I’m awake, dead, or dreaming, but somebody please take me out of this misery.

Your neck struggled to support your head as you fought to stay conscious on the locker room bench. It was early Saturday morning and team practice was far from over. Unwillingly, you had to stay up the previous night, studying deep into the AM because a certain boy kept distracting you in your head.

Over and over again, through your shift at the diner to the ride home to right here as you clung onto Yuna’s arm for support, Mark’s cute smile and Lisa’s daring accusations spun through your tired mind. It’s really not fair- a guy talks to you once and you’re already imagining things…

You quickly shake the thoughts from your head. 

  “Alright girls, thanks for coming in so early today,” your head skating coach, Tanya, smiled warmly, “captains, get everyone warmed up and I’ll go over some exciting announcements at the end of practice”.

“Thank you, Tanya,” the fatigued girls chorused half-heartedly as the captains ushered everyone out of the locker room and into the hallway for stretching. 

Reaching down to touch her toes, Yuna looks over to you. “Y/n, are you okay? You look worse than usual”.

The exhausted expression on your face said it all as you bent down to do the same. “I’ve got a lot on my mind. Econ test is coming up too”. You yawned into your words.

“I know you’re gonna say no, but if you wanna let loose a little, there’s a party tonight,” Yuna peers at you upside-down from in between her legs.

“You know I’m not a party person,” you decline, blacking out slightly as you stand back up. You blink to clear your vision.

As much as you admired your popular best friend for putting herself out there and being able to have fun at a party, it couldn’t be you. The drinking, the smoking, the groping, ogling men- not to mention the anxiety of existing in a frat house full of judgmental people, was all too much for you. As tempting as letting loose a little on a Saturday night sounded, you’d much rather do it in a way that involves your cozy pj’s and watching your favorite skating compilations on YouTube. Alone.

“I know, I know,” Yuna holds her hands up innocently, “but it could be fun. I know Mark is gonna be there”.

You whip your head around so fast that your ponytail nearly slaps her in the face. Flustered, you smooth down the nonexistent wrinkles on the front of your skating jacket. “Oh, that’s nice. What’s that got to do with me?”.

“Just letting you know,” Yuna shrugged in a ‘matter of fact’ manner. 

The captains led the team out to the rink to do laps. You weighed Yuna’s words for a minute as you skated across the ice. Naturally, being here where you were the most comfortable with yourself made you more susceptible to her convincing ploy. If you looked at the last few days in review, you had already made four new friends from just letting Yuna take the reins for one afternoon. That’s about one friend for every dollar in your bank account!

But the nagging reality was that Yuna had a massive amount of friends, cool friends, who were probably going to be at that very party while you had nobody but her and a guy you just met. This didn’t sit well with your anxieties. You’ll just end up awkward if Yuna wants to talk to someone else, or desperate if you cling to Mark, who would probably be weirded out.

As expected, it’s best to stay in.

The practice ran smoothly. As always, the hour and a half of spinning, falling, and getting back up resulted in soreness and loss of breath. Nonetheless, it recharged you and the cloud of tiredness in your head finally dissipated. You felt so free on the ice because you knew that you did it well. It isn’t about the money or your popularity or if you have to work part time just to afford the skates that you wear. If you put in the hard work and effort, you are rewarded with success; that’s a big part of what you liked about it. 

“Excellent job today, ladies. I’d like everyone to give a special round of applause to y/n today,” Coach Tanya suddenly singled you out as the team gathered around to hear her ending announcements. Tanya gave you a warm smile and gestured towards you as you bow to your clapping teammates. “For mastering the triple lutz. I can tell you’ve been practicing extra hours, both from the log sheet and from your performance today. At this rate, we may send you to nationals in the spring”.

Gasps echo across the cold, near-empty stadium. Your jaw hung open at Tanya’s ambitious plan and Yuna grabbed onto your arm excitedly, giving you a nudge of congratulations. It was extremely rare for a sophomore to be sent to the national competitions. Even some seniors never make it past the pre-auditions at Seoul University alone. You weren’t even dreaming of going within the next year despite all of your extra night-time practices. Looking at Tanya’s face, it didn’t seem like she was joking either.

“Thank you, Coach Tanya. I will work even harder”.

“That being said, I have some exciting news pertaining to all of you ladies: this year, Seoul University is sponsoring our team to hold a friendly competition for the winter festival as a sort of main event. Don’t be alarmed because it is optional. It’s September now, so if you are interested in participating, you will have just under four months to prepare a pair skate for the festival in December. Untraditionally, the audience will be voting to choose a winner instead of a panel. Furthermore, the theme, costumes, and music will all be up to you, so have fun with it! Oh and not to mention, the winning pair will be rewarded a monetary prize of $5,000 each”.

Shocked looks were exchanged between teammates. Your brain was still processing to make sure you heard Tanya right as she reiterated.

“Yes,” Tanya laughed, “you heard me right, girls, $5,000 each. It’s a tremendous opportunity and if not for the money, for a chance to practice performing in front of a crowd”.

Murmurs of excitement hush across the near-empty stadium.

“Yuna,” you look up to the taller girl and grip her arm with both hands, “Yuna please we gotta do this”. You shake her slightly with your pleading, “be my partner?”.

The blonde giggled, “duh, of course! Lisa and Hope will probably do it together since they’re both on JV so it’s perfect. Let’s get that ten grand for you!”.

“Wait no, but-”

“Y/n. You know I’m not about to argue with you about this,” Yuna sighed, looking up to the fluorescent ceiling lights to avoid your indignant stare. You relaxed your grip on her arm, knowing that you wouldn’t win this fight no matter how guilty you felt. “You’re better than me by a long shot. If anyone could bet on a winner, they’d put their money on you without a doubt. And if we win it’ll be because of you, so think of it as a fair split based on contribution. I’ll take a $20 cut to buy us dinner,” Yuna encouraged. 

You close your eyes and rest the side of your head on her shoulder.

That’s my best friend. I don’t deserve her.

You felt bad, but you knew that you needed this money more than anything right now. Your parents didn’t earn much and they were already burdened by this semester’s tuition, even with the scholarships. Picking up extra shifts at Frankie’s did little more than cover skating fees and rent. The heavy, looming fear of next semester being the one when you’d have to drop out often kept you up at night. It’s nobody’s fault, but that’s how it is.

Yet like a miracle angel sent from Heaven, this competition could cover an entire semester’s worth of tuition if you win. You needed the prize money desperately. You were going to have to win it no matter what.

“Bye!”. You waved to your teammates as they exited the locker room, probably to go out and be social on a Saturday afternoon. Unfortunately for you, your only plans were to sit alone at the library, studying.

“You seriously don’t wanna join us for lunch today?”. Yuna slung her skating bag over her shoulder. Her wet hair from just showering stuck to her face, but even like this she looked like she could be on the cover of a teen magazine.

“I’ll pass. I can grab a salad from the convenience store before I head to the library. Midterms are coming up and I gotta do a lot of review,” you explain, brushing a wide comb through your tangled mess of hair. Yuna moved to pull her hair back into a ponytail. You watched as her perfectly sculpted reflection made an action so simple into a reason for envy. The stained locker room mirror, however, did your bare face no favors. Your best friend remained oblivious as you picked yourself apart again. Your cheeks were a little too round, nose a little too wide, eyebrows a little too uneven. You shove the brush in your bag and turn around before you could fall deeper in insecurity. “Let’s go”.

As always, you chose to disregard your insecure thoughts and pretend like they never existed. Talking about it seemed weird, so you just chose not to do it. And you didn’t like bothering other people with your problems either. It was best to just keep it to yourself. 

“Y/n!,” a familiar voice called out from behind you. You stopped walking down the stadium corridor, turning around to see who could’ve known your name. Usually it’s Yuna getting stopped by one of her many friends.

Ashy blonde hair came into view as the boy jogged to catch up with you. Your legs were doing just fine after over an hour and a half of training, but they trembled at the sight of a certain dreamy junior boy.

“Hey, fancy seeing you here,” Mark smiled down at you, the dim hallway lights catching on his cheekbones and jawline, accentuating his beautifully sculpted features. 

“I’ll see you later,” Yuna winked, patting you on the back and making a break for the exit before you could protest.

“I-uh, hey, Mark,” you stutter. Was it just you or did he get even more good-looking since the last time you saw him?

“Did you guys just get out of practice?”. You could hardly pay attention to his simple question as you checked him out. Mark sported a simple outfit consisting of a plain black hoodie with matching black joggers and sneakers. His red hockey bag which was slung across his back was supported by one of his thumbs. With the sleeves of his hoodie rolled up to his elbows, you watch as the lines of his forearm muscles shift and strain with each fine movement from the weight of the duffel.

“Uh, yeah. Yeah! We did,” you answer after an awkward pause. Oh, God, please let that not have been weird. “Are you here for your practice?”. You mentally slap yourself for your stupid question; he’s wearing gym clothes and has his hockey gear, what else was he going to do at the rink?

“Yeah, I am,” Mark laughed good-naturedly, leaning slightly on the wall next to you, “I came here a bit early, actually. I was hoping to catch you”.

Catch...me?

Your face flushed at his heart-fluttering remark. Contesting with the urge to spontaneously burst into flames, you try your best to give a steady reply, “Oh! What for?”.

“I-uh,” Mark diverted his gaze down to his shoes, “I know I got your number from the group chat, but I wanted to ask you in person. There’s a party tonight at the sheep’s house- my friend’s house- and I was wondering if I was gonna see you there”.

You simultaneously wanted to sink into the floor to disappear forever and jump into the air to celebrate. You did neither. 

Was he asking you out? Not really. But then again, he wants to see you there at the party. And he came here early to specially ask you in person. 

You replay the debate you had with Yuna earlier. Past-you had made some valid points about not going, but how could you say no when he put it like this?… oh, fuck it.

“For sure. I’ll be there”. You offer a wry smile to try to cover your nervousness.

“Awesome,” Mark’s eyes twinkled as he smiled, “can’t wait to see you tonight, then”. 

“Can’t wait,” you echoed. You couldn’t help but notice how he was a few inches taller and you had to tilt your head back to meet his soft, brown eyes.

“I should probably get down to the rink to set up for practice”

“Oh okay! Don’t let me keep you”

“Not at all”. His fingers shifted to adjust the strap of his hockey bag and your eyes brushed over the ripple of his forearm. He was doing the bare-minimum and your knees were ready to buckle in the middle of the hallway. 

“I’ll get going then!,” you excuse yourself with a curt wave. Turning around, you head briskly for the exit before you could embarrass yourself further and agree to more irrational proposals. 

Before your hand could even touch the exit door to let yourself out, reality hit.

Oh no. I have to go to the party.

Yuna squealed and pounced you onto your bed as you told her the news. “I can’t believe it! You’re really gonna go?”.

You run a stressed hand through your wavy locks, “I guess? He didn’t leave me much of a choice”. Rolling around on your bed, your best friend clapped and cheered despite your wanting to travel back in time and tell Mark you couldn’t make it. But how were you supposed to say no to that face? Thanks to this, your library study session was far from focused or helpful.

“We gotta get you looking hot, y/n. I mean, you’re already hot,” Yuna corrected, “but even more hot for your first college party”.

Hopping off your now messed-up covers, you go to observe yourself in the full-body mirror in all your said ‘hotness’. You were currently enveloped in a grouchy oversized tee shirt that you got from a choir field trip in high school paired with plain gym shorts hidden underneath. Your hair was especially frizzy from being air-dried after your shower. 

“The only hot I am is a hot mess,” you groaned. Did you look like this when Mark saw you earlier? Shit.

“Nonsense, silly,” Yuna hugged you from behind, “you’re adorable and you’d be surprised how much hair, makeup, and a good fit can change someone”. She looked into your eyes eagerly through the mirror as if asking for permission. You were too nervous about the party to deny her so you gave your roommate a reluctant nod. It was better that she helped you get ready so you could fit in and thus blend into the background.

Squealing again, Yuna gave you a squeeze and scurried to flit through her closet for something you could wear. 

“Go straighten your hair, y/n!”

“Yes ma’am”. This much you could do. “How’s this?”. Yuna held up a skimpy bralette top, its white lace barely covering any surface area at all. 

“That’s a top?!”

“Ok nevermind”. Tossing the tiny piece aside, your roommate continued sifting earnestly through her collection of expensive clothes.

You ran the straightener through your partitioned hair carefully. 

“What about this one?”. Yuna held up a simple red crop top. A small notch ran an inch down the neckline which gave it a little edge, but it seemed like it would be in your comfort zone.

“That’s perfect,” you smile.

Hair now pin straight and finally smooth, you change into the red top and ripped black denim shorts Yuna picked out for you. Your best friend was much better at makeup than you were, so you let her take the lead once again. The only times you wear full makeup are for performances and you would look like a complete clown if you showed up with the two inch eyeliner you knew how to do. 

Applying a small amount of base makeup to your face, Yuna went for a more natural look, knowing that you weren’t comfortable with standing out too much. Subtle brown eyeshadow and lengthening mascara made your eyes pop just the right amount and a cherry lip balm tinted your lips a translucent, shiny red. Even you had to admit your confidence was boosted from the new look you weren’t used to seeing in the mirror. 

That’s me. I’m… kind of pretty

“Aw, honey, you look so beautiful,” Yuna cooed, wrapping up your makeover with a clap. She did her own makeup effortlessly and put on the discarded bralette from earlier. However ridiculous it looked on the hanger, she made it look like a million bucks and it suited her perfectly. 

You moved to sit on your bed and lace up your trusty white sneakers. Yuna wore a bigger shoe size than you which came as a relief because you weren’t sure if you could handle wearing any of the daring stiletto pumps in her collection. 

“You know, I’m so happy you’re going to come this time. I was always really sad when you stayed home studying every weekend instead of going out and having fun”.

“I would’ve gone if I knew how to talk to people,” you reason, picking at the dirty aglet of your shoelace, “and I’m honestly really nervous right now. You better not leave me, okay?”.

“You’re so sweet and thoughtful, anyone would be lucky to talk to you! I know it’s easier said than done, but you’d be surprised what a little confidence will do. And of course, I won’t leave you”. Yuna gave you a bright, reassuring smile before pulling you off the bed. 

You take one last look at your reflection in the mirror.

That’s right, confidence. I’m confident.

“Let’s go”

The walk down to the party was much shorter than you expected. Turns out, the ‘Sheep’ lived in that sketchy house just off of campus which you made a point to avoid during your nighttime jogs. The tables were turning as you approached the rickety front porch on purpose. You clung to Yuna as an array of neon lights shines through the window blinds and the open door. The bass of a generic pop song jolted through your bones. 

Walking into the home, your grip on Yuna’s arm tightened as unfamiliar faces surrounded you. The crowded room stank of sweaty bodies and weed. A countertop stocked full of red solo cups and different types of alcohol was visible from where you stood. Heads turned to stare at Yuna while the two of you entered.

What am I doing here?

“Hey, you made it!,” an unfamiliar voice shouted from over the ruckus. Your eyes fell nervously on the voice’s owner. He had dark brown hair and sharp, defined features. His accent was strange, but you couldn’t quite put your finger on it. 

“Hey!”. Yuna brought the stranger in for a loose hug. “Yangyang, this my roommate and best friend, y/n. Y/n this is Yangyang also known as ‘the sheep’. He’s from Germany”.

Ah, Germany.

You offer him a small wave, surprised when he pulls you unexpectedly into a hug. 

“Nice to meet you, y/n. Mark’s told me all about you,” Yangyang smirked, “please help yourself to drinks, girls. The guys are in the basement playing pong”.

“Woo! Let’s get wasted!” Yuna yelled while pulling you towards the drinks.

You stood awkwardly at her side as she poured both of you drinks- a half a solo cup of strawberry vodka for her and a sprite zero for you. You wish you could be in bed, curled up alone with a good movie. Or even at the library studying-

“Hey,” a deep voice right next to your ear wrecked your train of thought. Alarmed, your eyes were met with the middle of a chest as you turned around to see who it was. Craning your head back, an unfamiliar, tall boy with stiffly-gelled brown hair looked down at you. You winced at the acrid smell of axe body spray now flooding your nostrils. He looked young, maybe even younger than you, but he was clearly very drunk. “Where have you been all my life?”.

“Excuse me?,” you exclaim over the booming music. The boy placed his hands on the counter on either side of you, trapping you in between his arms. Looking over to find Yuna, she had already shifted deeper into the crowd and was busy talking with other people. 

“I’m Sungchan,” the boy unwelcomingly introduced, “what’s your name, beautiful?”.

“I-uh I’m y/n,” you stuttered. Sungchan’s face was way too close for comfort and his breath stank of cheap alcohol. You felt his humid exhalation brush over the top of your head like a toxic cloud and you fought to not gag.

“Y/n. You come here with anyone?”. You pressed your back as far into the counter as you could to get away from him, but there was little room to go. Fear began to set in as you realized you were trapped. What should I say? What do I do?

“I-I…” 

“She came here with me”. A firm hand gripped Sungchan’s left arm and yanked it forcefully away from the counter. Your saving grace put a gentle hand on your shoulder, tugging you slightly away from the drunk perpetrator. Struggling to comprehend what was happening, you looked up to see it was Mark, staring the intoxicated boy down. 

“C-captain”

“What’s a freshman doing with my girl?” Mark pressed. His expression was unamused. 

Your heart trembled at his unanticipated lie. His girl? Mark brushed a reassuring thumb over your shoulder, clueing to you that he would handle this. 

“I didn’t know, I-”

“Sungchan, right? You still trying to make varsity next year?,” Mark interrupted, eyebrows raised in annoyance at the freshman. Sungchan’s eyes went wide as he held both hands up innocently.

“Y-yes I-”

“Misconduct can get you kicked off the team, you know. Not to mention I’ll be senior captain next year so I’ll have a say in who makes it into varsity”.

“I’m sorry, captain, I really didn’t-”

“Fuck off”. Mark gestured his free hand towards the open front door. Sungchan looked around, as if unsure what to do. The surrounding party-goers danced and drank on, unaware of the altercation and more interested in who they were going home with tonight. Finally, the lanky boy’s head cleared enough to make a decision. Sungchan bowed slightly in apology and stumbled towards the exit. The untouched solo cup of sprite fizzed in your shaking hands.

“Are you okay?”. Mark faced you with a concerned look.

You clenched your grip tighter around your drink as you fought back tears, the shock wearing off and the gravity of the situation hitting you full-on. You set the cup down and shake your head no.

“Do you want to get out of here?”.

You nod your head vigorously and tears began streaming down your cheeks. What a waste, all of Yuna’s hard work down the drain. Mark nudged you forward and guided you towards a back door. Weaving your way through the crowd, Mark greeted his friends with a “hey” or a simple nod. You felt a few girls eye you discontentedly at the sight of Mark’s hand ghosting over the small of your back while others were too high or drunk to notice. The cool night air welcomed you as Mark urged you outside and you rushed to escape the cramped house. He shut the door behind him, muffling the heavy bass so you could finally hear yourself think.

Dabbing away at your tears so he wouldn’t see, you breathe deeply to regain your composure. 

“Thanks for that”. You managed to let out after a few minutes of sniffling and silence. Your voice was slightly hoarse and you couldn’t meet his eyes, but he waited patiently by your side. 

So much for coming to this party, he probably thinks I’m a mess. This whole thing was a huge mistake. 

“I think I’ll go. Sorry I can’t stay”. You turn to walk down the wooden porch steps.

“Wait-”. Mark’s voice halts your departure. “Would you like to go on a walk with me? Or I can at least take you home. I don’t want you going out alone after what just happened…”. 

Looking up at him, the dim porch light glowed behind him, giving him a soft golden halo. His brown eyes which were usually smiling now shone with worry as he scanned over your tear-stricken face. Your heart which was beating rapidly from fear earlier began to settle down in his reassuring presence. Being alone right now might not be the best idea. But more importantly, being with him sounded like what you really needed. You nod.

The sound of crickets chirping and sneakers scuffing took over as the two of you walked farther away from the booming music of the party. You weren’t sure where you were headed, but you also didn’t know if there was anywhere you wanted to go. Wandering down the deserted streets in comfortable silence, Mark followed you patiently as he waited for you to be ready to talk. Before you knew it, your feet brought you to the lake and you stood watching the water ripple under the night breeze. The moon, almost full, illuminated silver each ebb and flow.

“I’m sorry you’re missing the party”. You quietly broke the silence. You felt bad for making him leave. All of his friends were there and he probably really looked forward to it. 

“Don’t be. I only went so I could talk to you, anyways”

You look at him in surprise. Mark’s eyes remained glued to the lake, sparkling from the reflected moonlight.

“How many girls have you told that to?,” you scoff. Internally, you screamed.

“Couldn’t name another one”

You pause before resolving to stroll further down the lakeside. The sound of footsteps behind you confirmed that he was following. Stopping as you reach the familiar creaky wood, you take a seat on the worn-out dock, him on your right. You dangle your feet over the dark, sloshing waves. It was cool, despite the summer season. A breeze rolled by, making you shudder. However cute the crop top was, it didn’t do much to keep you warm. Not that you could have planned on running away from the party and needing a sweatshirt beforehand.

“Here, take this”. Mark unzipped his jacket to give to you.

“Oh it's ok-”. You couldn’t finish your protest before the warm fabric was draped across your shoulders. Your face grew pink once more. If you didn’t know better, you could be admitted to the hospital for how much you’ve been blushing recently. “Thanks,” you mutter, looking down at your hands with a small smile. 

“Is that Frankie’s?”. Mark’s voice cut through the silence.

“What?”

“Is that Frankie’s?,” Mark repeated, nodding at the small restaurant bordering the lake some distance away. It looked as if it had just closed, yellow fluorescent lights still on while a tired waitress scrubbed away at a table. Only one car, probably her’s, remained in the parking lot.

“Oh, yeah. That’s where I work part time,” you confirmed. “I come here to the dock to sit sometimes. You know, just to think”.

“I feel that. Sometimes everything is way too much to handle and you need to take time to breathe. I have a place like this too”

Mark’s sincere confession came as a surprise to you and unintentionally, it showed on your face.

“What, you don’t believe me?” Mark feigned hurt, putting a hand on his chest. “Do you think hockey guys can’t have feelings too? I have a fan club for heaven’s sake!”.

You laugh at his exaggerated outcry. 

“And that’s a bad thing? Don’t you guys like the attention? Attention from lots and lots of pretty girls”. You raised an eyebrow, teasing him.

“As if,” Mark ran a stressed hand through his hair, “they’re all crazy as hell. Honestly, none of the guys really like the attention”.

You nod in understanding. Seeing how the Lovelees acted the few times you were around them, you’d hate being the subject of their affections too.

“But how about you,” Mark continued, “I haven’t seen you much at parties”.

You let out a sarcastic laugh, “if you couldn’t tell from tonight, I’m not much of a party girl. Today was my first and probably last party”. You had gotten so comfortable walking and talking with Mark that you had almost forgotten about the horrible incident that occurred earlier. Pulling the soft jacket over yourself more, your face falls as you remember Sungchan’s intoxicated face.

“Hey” Mark’s hand grazes over your slumped shoulders, bringing you back to focus on him. “I’ll never let him bother you again”. 

While you were unsure of how your makeup was holding up due to all the crying, his delicate features were all the more beautiful under the pale moonlight. You notice how close you’re sitting, knees almost brushing against each other’s and his face was but inches from yours. And even though you were wearing his jacket so he was left with only a tee shirt, you were sure you weren’t imagining the heat radiating from his body. Slowly, your eyes flutter down to his parted lips.

There it is once more, the hot flush in your cheeks and the strain in your chest. 

Meeting Mark has been a rollercoaster of emotions, but you felt undeniably comfortable sitting next to someone who would’ve been a stranger just a few days ago. Something about him felt familiar to you now and you trusted in his words. He was someone... safe. 

“Really?,” you whisper, not taking your eyes off of his soft, pink lips. 

“Really”. His confirmation was too gentle to be heard above the sound of the rushing water below, but you read his lips as they shaped around the word.

Before you know it, you were leaning in, just enough so you knew you weren’t imagining it. A mellow breeze plays with your hair, causing a few strands to fall astray. Cautiously with his hand, Mark slowly tucks the fallen pieces back behind your ear. He hesitates there. The feeling of his warm fingertips sends tingles down your spine. Carefully scanning your expression to make sure you were okay, his hand inches down to gently cup your cheek. “Can I kiss you?”.

You could feel the warmth of his breath fan across your lips, his own not centimeters away. Your heart pounded rapidly as you gave an affirming nod. Closing your eyes, you wait.

This is happening.

A jolting vibration from your pocket caused your eyes to shoot right back open and Mark let go of you in surprise. Your phone kept buzzing, the harsh sound amplified by the wooden dock. Sighing in frustration, you struggle to remove it from your back pocket as Mark looks away, coughing awkwardly. Your face burned red from embarrassment.

Why does this always happen to me?

“Hello?”. Your tone was laced with annoyance.

“Y/n! Where aare youu?,” Yuna slurred. Trap music blared in the background confirming that she was still at the party. You could hear Ten asking if Mark was with you over the ruckus.

“I left. And yeah, Mark is here”. You put the phone on speaker and held it up towards the boy you were about to kiss moments ago. 

“Hey guys,” Mark said sheepishly. Yuna squealed in delight.

“That’s my boy!”. Ten’s booming voice took over the call.

“Stop it man,” Mark warned, increasingly agitated at the couple for ruining the moment.

“Okayy kids! Have fun, but not tooooo much fun”. Yuna giggled into the microphone. 

“I’m hanging up,” you said quickly before pushing the red button to end the call. Any longer and you weren’t sure you could resist throwing your phone (and perhaps yourself) into the lake. A brief moment of silence ensued, both parties unsure of what to do next. Was there anything you could do to save the moment after that? 

“I uh…,” you start.

“Yeah umm…,” Mark agreed. Silence ensued.

“Uhh…”. Your steady tone wavered as you started to giggle. The awkwardness dissipated because before you knew it, both of you were laughing wholeheartedly at the unfortunate situation. 

“Yuna tends to have great timing,” you explain.

“Mm. Ten does too,” Mark related, stroking his chin and nodding as if thinking deeply. 

“She said she wouldn’t leave me at the party but lo and behold”. You gesture to your surroundings, exasperated.

“That sucks,” Mark agreed, “you should have come found me. I was waiting for you, actually”.

“I was going to,” you picked at the zipper of his jacket, “but we had just gotten there when... you know”.

“Yeah. You don’t have to talk about it if you’re not ready. I don’t want to pressure you at all, but I’m always willing to listen”

“You’re,” you look for the right words, “you’re so amazing”. 

“Yeah?”

You keep your gaze in your lap, “Yeah. And you know, I wish we’d met earlier, Mark. Because it’s really nice talking to you and you’re a really great guy”. You check for his reaction.

“Yeah, I wish we met sooner too”. His expression was that of… adoration.

Being with Mark was so easy. Conversation came to you two easier than anything else in life did. And just like that, feet swinging in sync above the water, you talked for hours. He told you about his alien conspiracy theories and his aspirations to be a professional hockey player and then retire into sports medicine. You told him about your parents and how you missed them dearly because they worked way out of the city to support you and your dream. You did everything you could to be able to pay them back, even majoring in economics which was more profitable than environmental studies or professional skating. Mark listened thoughtfully and admitted that he related in a lot of ways with his parents being all the way in Canada. 

The night rushed by and the two of you talked until the golden peaks of sunrise painted the water from its usual blue. You had shifted so you were sitting facing each other on the dock. The early sunlight cast a warm glow over Mark’s face. He looked like a painting- a Monet. Or a Renoir.

“Um so, I guess it’s Sunday now”. Mark rested his chin into the crook of his elbow. You could hear the tired in his voice, but you mutually understood that neither of you wanted to leave.

“Do you have to go?”. You picked at a piece of fuzz on the sleeve of his sweatshirt which you were still wearing. The disappointment was evident in your question. Even though you had spent the whole night getting to know each other, it felt like you had just barely scratched the surface. There was still so much more you wanted to talk about. 

Checking his watch, Mark contemplated for a bit. 

“It’s 6:12 a.m. right now. I actually have to get somewhere by 6:30,” Mark explained.

“So early?”

“Yeah it’s… you could come with me if you want?”. His sleepy eyes twinge with hope.

You look to the lake, the sparkling ripples tinted gold with the rising sun. Sunday was usually a rest day for you and you didn’t have anything planned. As fatigued as you felt, everything in you wanted to accept his invitation. You cracked a small smile, getting up to stretch your legs. You hold out a hand to help him up.

“Lead the way”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to walk you home? This might not be fun for you…”

Mark’s expression was worried as the two of you stood at the entrance of the local church, the doors open and you could see rows of tables and food set up as if ready for people at any minute. The streets were starting to bustle as the world began to wake up. A volunteer from inside the church spotted you, walking out to give his greetings. 

“Mark!,” the man called out as he pulled Mark  in for a warm hug, “good morning!”.

His eyes turned towards you and Mark moved to introduce you. 

“Daniel, this is y/n. Y/n, this is Daniel. We volunteer together here at the church to serve breakfast to the homeless,” Mark disclosed.

“Nice to meet you, Daniel”. You shake his hand with a smile. Gosh, I probably look like a mess right now. I didn’t even get to change or take off the makeup from the party yesterday. You self-consciously zip up Mark’s oversized jacket to hide your exposed midriff. 

“Nice to meet you, y/n! This is the first time Mark has brought a… friend here”. Daniel’s eyes darted between you and Mark with an assuming smile.

“Yeah,” Mark coughed, turning to you, “do you want me to take you home? This probably isn’t what you expected I don’t know why I-”

“No,” you interrupted, “I’d like to stay and volunteer”. Offering him a reassuring smile, you rest your hand on his arm to show him that you were okay. There was truth to his worries when Mark said this wasn’t what you were expecting. You never would have thought that a popular guy like him woke up early on the weekends to help the needy. Evidently, he did it out of the kindness of his own heart, not for attention. You always imagined it was all parties and messing around, but you were pleasantly proven wrong.

“Great! Mark can show you around and get you started,” the older man clapped before heading inside.

“You’re kind of awesome, you know that?”. Mark’s question caught you off guard. He slipped his hand into yours to lead you into the building, the simple action sending your heart into a frenzy. 

“Awesome how?”

“Just… awesome,” Mark clarified cryptically, holding the door open for you to enter the storage room. He tosses you a green volunteer shirt.

“Alright, I’ll take the compliment,” you laugh, taking off his jacket and handing it to him. To your surprise, he pushes it back to you.

“You keep it. I like it a lot better on you”

Mark Lee if you keep saying things like this, I’m going to catch on fire.

You fight to put out the flames spreading across your cheeks and give a single nod, setting the sweatshirt down on a nearby box. Not willing to strip in front of him in the church storage room, you pull the volunteer shirt over on top of the shirt you were already wearing.

“So anyways,” Mark continued as if he didn’t just say the most romantic thing you’ve heard in your life, “the people will start coming in about 20 minutes. Our job is to portion out the food and once everyone is served, we can go eat and talk with them”.

“Got it”

“Here, let me get this for you”. His hand guided your waist to spin around as he pulled an apron over your head. Tying the back of the garment together, your breath hitches in your throat as you feel his fingers brush under the fabric of your shirt. You turn your face to the side and you can see his soft expression in your peripheral vision. The heat from his body behind yours feels so welcoming.

I wish he’d kiss me right now.

And he wants to. He tries to. He’s leaning in and everything is perfect. Your heart is beating fast as you tilt your head back, but like clockwork, a jolting buzz from his pants makes you jump apart. No, not like that.

“I swear to God, I’m throwing away my phone”. Mark ran a frustrated hand through his hair, picking up the kiss-blocking call. “Hello?”. You sighed.

You watch as the annoyed expression on his face fades into shock as the speaker on the other side panicked through the phone. Your own frustration transforms into concern as Mark looks at you and you catch the words “car” and “hospital”. Mark paces back and forth.

“Alright, I got it. Yeah, she’s with me. I’ll tell her. We’ll come right now. Don’t worry, Ten, she’s going to be fine”

“What is it?,” you ask as soon as he hangs up the call, eyebrows furrowed in confusion and worry.

“It’s Yuna…,” Mark trailed off, shocked by the news. Your heart dropped down to your feet.

“What about Yuna?” Your voice shook with panic.

“She-she was in a car accident. She’s at the hospital right now”

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[impala666]

The One With The Stoned Guy Part Two (Amuse Bouche)

Sorry it took so long! But here is the next part to the Friends Rewrite. I’m just kind of writing when I find time. Enjoy all!!!!!!

Last Part (Part One), Series Masterlist

It was the next morning and the night before was the first night where you actually slept at Bryan’s apartment, you didn’t even go to yours and Ross’s apartment. But no you found yourself walking toward Monica and Rachel’s apartment for early breakfast before everyone went off to work or in your case school and the work. “Good morning,” you cheered with a smile. Everyone in the living room bid you a good morning in return while Joey sat there and stared at you with that same sad dog expression. So Ross must have told him that you never went home. “So, I heard you didn’t make it home last night.” Rachel confirmed your suspicions, but apparently Ross just decided to up and tell everybody.

“Yeah, last night was my first night actually staying there,” you smiled brightly at her when you thought about all of the adventures that you had with Bryan.

“You really like him, don’t you?” Rachel asked as she scrunched up her face and came closer to you to make your conversation a bit more private. You were about to answer her when all of a sudden the apartment door slammed from behind you. 

“Can you see my nipples through this shirt?” Your big brother asked after he entered. He made sure to lift up his suit jacket so that all of you could have a good look. 

“No,” Rachel answered for him as she carefully looked. “But don’t worry I’m sure they’re still there.” You laughed at her harmless joke. 

“Where’re you going Mr. Suity-Man?” Phoebe asked him from her spot in the living room next to Ross.

“Well,” Chandler reached into his inside jacket pocket and pulled out a business card. “I have an appointment to see Dr. Robert Pillman, career counselor a-go-go.” You listened to him as you took a seat on the couch, but realized that you sat too close to Joey like you used to. So you had to awkwardly slide in the opposite direction no matter if it made you a little upset and Joey very. “I added the a-go-go.” Chandler emphasized as all of them ignored the thing that just happened. 

“A career counselor?” Rachel asked him, wondering why he was going to see this guy. 

“Hey, you guys all know what you want to do.” Chandler whined to you all as he started to get defensive. 

“I don’t,” Rachel chimed in. 

“Hey, you guys in the living room all know what you want to do. You have goals, you have dreams. I don’t have a dream!” Chandler declared. But no matter how serious he tried to come across as, you all still found it a little funny. 

“Ah, the lesser-known “I don’t have a dream,” speech.” Ross called Chandler out on his mistake. 

“Y/N/N?” Chandler asked and placed his hand on your shoulder so that you would turn in your seat and look at him. “How did you know you wanted to go to Esthetician school?” He only asked because you had taken such a big leap to follow your dreams even if it made a few other people unhappy.

“I don’t know really. I just never really enjoyed or got into anything that I was learning while I went to college. But I always enjoyed skin and skincare and makeup, so once I actually found a career in it. I just decided to go for it.” You explained. “And even though it was terrifying at first, I know that it was the perfect decision.” Chandler couldn’t find words, he was just so proud and jealous of you. He just wished that he could find something that he was just as passionate about. 

“Oh, I love my life! I love my life!” Monica cheered as she had just gotten back from an interview with that restaurant guy. She was beaming from ear to ear and it looked like it hurt. 

“Oh, Brian’s Song.” Phoebe guessed, thinking that Monica was quoting a song. 

“The meeting with that guy went great?” Rachel asked her after Phoebe’s strange outburst. 

“It was so great. He showed me where the restaurant’s going to be. It’s this cute little place on 10th Street; it’s not too big, it’s not too small. It’s just right.” Monica beamed as she shared her experience for her new job opportunity. 

“Was it formerly owned by by a blonde woman and some bears?” Chandler joked, when Monica accidentally quoted the famous nursery rhyme. 

“So, anyway I’m cooking dinner for him Monday night. You know, kind of like an audition.” Monica continued as she just ignored everything that Chandler just said. “And Phoebe he really wants you to be there,” she explained as she made her way over to the woman in the living room. “Which would be great for me because then you can make oh’s and ah’s and you can make yummy noises.”

“What’re you going to make?” Rachel asked Monica. 

“Yummy noises,” Phoebe answered instead, acting like it was obvious.

“And Monica, what are you gonna make?” You asked, changing the question to one that everyone could understand. 

“I don’t know. It’s just got to be so great.” Monica answered you as she walked over to her shelf of cookbooks to try and come up with some ideas. 

“Oh! I know what you should make.” Phoebe announced as she ran over to join Monica and Rachel in the kitchen. Almost knocking you down in the process as you made your way over to them, as well. “You should make that thing with the stuff.” Phoebe said as she sprinkled imaginary spices into her hand. “You know that...thing.” She just couldn’t think of it. But Phoebe could tell she wasn’t getting through to any of you. “Okay, I don’t know.” She finally gave up. 

“Hey, guys. Does anyone know a good date place in the neighborhood?” Ross asked, changing the subject. 

“Uh, how about Tony’s?” Joey suggested, and seeing as you used to date him you could see where this was going. “If you can finish a 32 ounce steak, it’s free.” Ross looked up at you for confirmation to see if he ever took you there.

“Yeah, no. That was the date from hell.” You felt bad for saying so, but it was true. 

“You said you loved it!” Joey whined. 

“Yeah, but we couldn’t finish because no human can, so you got upset and left, sticking me with the cheque.” He treated you like a queen, but you had to call a spade a spade. That date stunk. 

“Okay, does anyone know a good place if you’re not dating a puma?” Ross asked again as he joked at Joey’s answer. 

“Who are you going out with?” Chandler asked him with a chuckle. 

“Oh! Is this the bug lady?” Phoebe asked Ross. 

“I love you, Ross.” Rachel joked as she started buzzing like a bug and using her fingers as antennas. 

“Her name is Celia. She’s not a bug lady. She’s curator of insects at the museum.” Ross defended. 

“So a bug lady?” You asked since Ross was trying to be technical, but he knew that you were messing around. 

“So, what’re you guys gonna do?” Monica asked as she flipped through a cookbook at the table. 

“I just thought we’d go out to dinner and then bring her back to my place and I’d introduce her to my monkey.” Ross sounded like he was 100% joking but when you looked at him his face was serious. 

“And he’s not speaking metaphorically.” Chandler mumbled to himself. 

“So, back to your place. You’re thinking maybe, heh-heh?” Joey asked Ross as he implied sex. 

“Well, I don’t know heh-heh.” Ross said under his breath to Joey. “I’m hoping heh-heh. So Y/N can you steer clear of the apartment tonight.” You nodded even though you had nowhere to go since Monica had her dinner tonight and you and Joey were broken up. You would have to just go back to Bryan’s, oh well. Too bad. 

“I’m telling you-that monkey is a chick magnet. She’s going to take one look at his furry cute little face and it’ll seal the deal.” Joey promised him. 

*******

It was later in the evening, all of you were back at Monica and Rachel’s while Monica tried out some new recipes to have all of you try. Joey, Phoebe, and Rachel sat at the kitchen table. While you and Bryan sat alone in the living room. You really were surprised at how well everyone was getting along with Bryan, including Joey. They weren’t really best friends because clearly Joey still harbored some feelings, but they were able to be in a room together. That was all you could ask for. The both of you sat on the couch talking with Bryan’s arm wrapped around your shoulders. Bryan was about to continue the fire story that he had been meaning to tell you, but he jumped out of his seat when the apartment door slammed shut from an aggressive force. “Oh, my God. What happened to you?” Rachel asked, you kneeled on the sofa to turn and look who had entered. It was Chandler with his shirt unbuttoned slightly and tie loose, with a stack of folders looking he had had a day. 

“8 and a half hours of aptitude tests, intelligence tests, personality tests and what do I learn?” Chandler also seemed a little on edge. “You are ideally suited for a career in data processing for a large multinational cooperation.” Chandler read off of the test result that he had gotten. 

“That’s so great! Because you already know how to do that!” You cheered him on sarcastically. Bryan chuckling quietly as he looked up at you. 

“Can you believe it? Don’t I seem like somebody who should be doing something really cool?” Chandler asked all of you as he paced along the kitchen, half-heartedly waving to Bryan without looking at him. “I just always pictured myself doing something…something.” Chandler frowned down at the floor as he lightly stomped his foot.  

“Oh, Chandler, I know.” Rachel got up from her seat and half hugged the man as she patted him on his chest. “I know. Oh, hey! You can see your nipples through this shirt.” But Rachel’s realization did not seem to help Chandler as he turned his head and glared down at the woman. 

“Here you go. Maybe this will cheer you up.” Monica tried as she offered Chandler a plate of mini food. 

“Ohh, you know I had a grape about five hours ago. So I better split this with you.” He joked again as he tried to push passed his disappointing day. 

“It’s supposed to be that small, it’s a pre-appetizer. The French called it an Amuse Bouche.” Monica taught all of you. So Chandler took one for the team and popped one into his mouth, when suddenly he wasn’t as upset at the moment. 

“Well, it is amoozing.” Chandler joked even though he couldn’t help but get where Monica was coming from. 

“You’re friends are so weird.” Bryan said quietly to you as he deeply chuckled. 

“I know,” you beamed. “Isn’t it amazing.” You smiled at him in return and Bryan wrapped an arm around your waist as he pecked a kiss to your forehead. 

“Hello?” Monica said as she answered the phone that had started to ring a couple seconds ago. “Oh, hi, Wendy. Yeah 8 o’clock. What did we say, ten dollars an hour? Okay, great. I’ll see you then. Bye.” Monica hung up the quick phone call and you couldn’t help but notice the hurt and surprised look on Rachel’s face. 

“Ten dollars an hour for what?” Phoebe asked, before Rachel could jump to conclusions. 

“Oh, I asked one of the waitress’s at work to help me out.” You couldn’t help but cringe when Monica didn’t even realize her mistake. 

“Waitressing?” Rachel asked in surprise. 

“Uh-oh,” Joey sang as he stood up from his chair. 

“Of course I thought of you, but...but,” Monica couldn’t even think of an excuse. 

“But-but?” Rachel repeated for her, you could tell that she was starting to get a little upset. 

“But you see this night had to go perfect, you know.” Monica’s excuse was already flimsy. “And well, Wendy’s more of a...professional waitress.” She really was just digging herself in deeper. 

“Oh. I see, and I’ve sort of been maintaining my amature status so that I can waitress in the Olympics.” Rachel joked to hide her hurt. 

“You know, I don’t mean to brag, but I waited tables in Innsbruck in ‘76.” You added to try to make the conversation a bit more lighthearted. But Rachel did not find it funny at all when she glared at you, so you shrunk down and hid behind Bryan for protection. 

“Amuse Bouche?” Chandler offered Rachel the plate of food to try and diffuse the situation. You were about to kiss Bryan when he leaned in, but a voice made you jump up.

“Hey, Y/N.” Joey’s voice rang out.

“Yeah?” You asked, wondering what could be so important that he was interrupting your moment with Bryan. 

“We’re still on for hanging out, right?” He asked, you just furrowed your eyebrows at him. What game was he trying to play at? 

“Um, yeah. Sorry must have forgotten,” you tried to play it off. But even you knew that your face just read surprise. 

“Great, see you then,” Joey smiled. So then you tried to play it off with a smile, but you were breaking when you felt Bryan look at you with slight confusion.

Taglist:

@vampiregirl1797

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[moonknowshome]

The industry reflected on television

This is a translation of the post x made by @larryisinlove and @faithinrainbows

On many multiple occasions through the media around us we have read or heard a lot of people talking about the reality that the music industry faces and a lot of their aspects that we may not notice at a first look. However, we can see that a variety of TV programs (many of them released for younger audiences) gave us some kind of hints or messages on many chapters they present to us. Chapters which show us the reality artists face in the world of music industry.

Let's start by talking about the Disney series, "Hannah Montana." In the episode (3x10) we can see the protagonist of the series, Miley, dressed as the teenage pop star Hannah Montana along with a famous boy named Austin Rain, who claims to be her partner to the photographers and the media.

At first we see them united showing themselves in front of the cameras, but the reality behind it is that the relationship was only created to promote their song together called "Us Isn’t Us Without You."

We are also going to mention the moment when one of the most famous series for children created by Nickelodeon, a very recognized television network, tried to make a reference ( more like a parody in my opinion) to a massive TV network we all have seen in the past which is Disney Channel. In one episode called “The Dingo Channel” they talk about a channel called “Dingo Channel” tried to copy the structure of the web channel protagonist the series iCarly and the way that channel was run in that period of time. We can see it as a satire the way some of the rumors Disney Channel and their creator were involved in. They qualified Disney basically like a network with little originality.

It is interesting to see how certain topics are presented as a joke, such as wars between television networks. Or how the protagonists go from making a channel on the internet to making it to television, but little by little they find big changes that the production wants to introduce, among them, change to the protagonists, and other modifications that culminates with a different program to the original.

The third program to mention is another from Disney, "Gravity Falls" (1x17). They present to us a band called "Sev'ral Timez", and the protagonist is a fan of them. So, together with her friends, they decide to attend one of their concerts.

At the end of this, the girls are curious to know what is behind when the group disappears, so they go behind the scenes without anyone seeing them, to find various capsules. Inside them you could see the same boys, in different sizes, and the band in a large cage, as if they were animals. According to them, their manager keeps them safe that way.

You can see how the series wanted to demonstrate what happens many times in the industry, wanting to create perfect bands or artists, who manage to sell their image to their fans.

We go on to see what the fourth program presents, in Austin & Ally (Third season-episode 22). One of the Disney series that most thematically refers to the life of an artist in terms of their experiences or events they experience at such a young age is without a doubt Austin & Ally. Several things have been mentioned in relation to the life and growth that an artist has in this episode, exemplifying the main characters of this series. In addition to having their typical Disney touch that characterizes them, it also shows how the characters develop their personalities in the artistic environment and in the world of the music industry.

A clear example in this particular episode called "Relationships and red carpets" that draws a lot of attention at the moment of analyzing it, is to see how Austin and Ally prepare for an awards event, they have been nominated in the same category and would basically come to mean the big moment of the beginning of their careers as pop stars. They planned to announce their relationship to the public eye, but something happens that caught a lot my attention and that is something not far from reality is that Jimmy (owner of the record company in which Austin signed) prohibits him to make his relationship something public with the clarification that it would not be a good thing for his image and that what he wants to sell with Austin is something for teenagers who will eventually buy his music and have that fantasy of being able to go out and date that star, that star he wants to turn him into. He explains openly that this will make him sell more albums in the future. In this episode Austin and Ally try to make their relationship a secret with the purpose of showing Jimmy that they can deal with this. They even deny their relationship to the press at the award ceremony, but they realize that it is not easy at all. Austin risks his career at the cost of it by telling everyone he is dating Ally. This tells us that maintaining an image for sales is too important, it shows us that these things are not taken easily.

As a consequence Austin is unable to release music in any ways for the next 10 years due to the power that his label presents over his music by certain contracts that are mentioned in a basic way in the series.

The next show belongs to Nickelodeon, "Victorious." In this series we find a rather peculiar chapter, within this we see in a developed way how they ask teenagers to send videos showing their skills in music, and with that they achieve a career. The person who did these auditions was a man named Mason, and particularly he is British, with great power in the industry.

The winner of the contest is Tori, the protagonist of the series, who is summoned to a confidential meeting in order to talk about her future. She happily goes with the idea that she should only sing and be her, to which they respond "Your image does not sell, so we are going to create a new one for you", something that we know happens a lot. And they put a condition on it. They tell her that she can't tell anyone about her control over her image, not even her friends. This is how they put wigs on her, flashy clothes, and invent an insolent personality in addition to rumors that generated controversy, among them, causing a stir in restaurants in front of many people.

To finish, we are going to present what the movie Starstruck tells us, the life of a superstar and a girl he meets throughout the plot. In this film we see how this artist handles the moments in which he is told what to do to clean up the image he has a little and get more opportunities as an actor, he must keep himself out of the public eye, and obey everything they tell him to do or say and be cautious with whom he hangs out because of recent problematics he has had.

Basically this film, apart from touching the typical Disney theme of a love story, shows how this star tries to handle this fight in which he is constantly told what to say to the media or the people around him and also shows the way in which the media greatly influence the image of this artist. You can see the behavior of Christopher, the protagonist, at the time of making decisions in order to take care of his own image with the purpose of getting the role he wants to play, all this starts as it is usual from a recommendation that his manager gave him, therefore this idea does not come out of his mind and sporadically says or does things that make the girl he has a romantic interest in feel disappointed because she doesn't like the person that this star tries to be reaching a point of collapse due to all the hate and harassment by journalists which falls into it as a result of things the star said in order to clean its own image. Jesssica, played by the well-known Danielle Campbell, gets tired of having constant harassment by the press, which was waiting for her to say something about the relationship of this normal girl with the big star Christopher is. She decides to give a speech that allows us to understand the intentions that these media require, to sell an artist and sell articles or magazines at the cost of freedom, privacy and quality as a person. (This is highly ironic). The star reconsiders and thinks that the best thing to do is to start taking control of his image and his life and decides to leave his opportunities as an actor and tell his parents who in a way were in charge of taking care of his image that they are fired and he wants to be himself.

As we could see in the examples mentioned above, and in many more that were not named, there are series or films that contain episodes in which they will give us examples or clues, some more direct than others, about the management around the artists in the middle.

It is not unusual that there are so many examples, and so many similarities between them, or with what one already knows, hears, or reads.

The objective of this post is to imply that it is no secret what companies or managers do with their artists, the changes in appearance and personality, transform them completely, or even invent lives that they do not have. These chapters, or scenes that we name, are a step forward to show publicly what happens, and that the affected people cannot come out to say it.

[sugamoonv]

Eighth Member of BTS

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: None, kinda angsty at first maybe??

Notes: This is kind of implied male reader as BigHit only deals with boy groups but I don’t think I used any pronouns so it should be safe for all genders to read

A.N: I’m back!!! I kind of, maybe, went off a little on this so I’m most likely going to make another part to this. If you guys would rather have it be Poly!BTS or delve in specific members, let me know! Love you!!

You’ve been training with BigHit for a little over a year 

You joined BigHit after they held international auditions and you miraculously made it through all rounds

Moving into the dorms and taking classes/lessons was a huge change from your typical school work/ job

The time you usually gave for school/work drastically decreased so you find yourself constantly busy

Your social life basically reduces to interacting with the others in your dorm and talking to your outside friends when you finally have the time

Being a trainee is stressful and the dorms you and the other trainees live in are small since people are constantly coming and going 

Depending on who you are, you either become comfortable expressing your emotions when having a difficult day, or you wait until everyone is asleep or find places you can get a semblance of privacy

You also have to become comfortable and seeing your roommates handle things

You usually have class in the afternoon and come back to the dorm to change and go to dance lesson and on one particular day, you walked in on your roommate sobbing to his parents over the phone because their voice kept cracking during vocal lessons

Trainee lessons take up the majority of the day so you have to reserve the time between you’re finished and when you fall asleep for assignments/outside studying

This time is usually between 1 and 3 a.m, so constant sleep deprivation becomes normal for you

You become a master at taking naps anywhere and at any time of the day possible

Sleep deprivation doesn’t help anyone manage stress in a healthy way and this has lead to your roommates repeatedly getting into serious arguments over boundaries and personal space

Being one of the older members amongst the trainees, this means that you’re called upon a lot to help settle disputes 

So when BigHit tells you that you’re debuting, you couldn’t be happier to move on 

You’re a little curious as to why BigHit is flying you to Korea before they tell you who the other members in your group are but you’ve learned not to question them

Perhaps the other members in your group are the trainees that live in Korea

By now, BTS is BigHit’s top group and has been debuted for a couple years now and has amassed a large fanbase

After working so hard, BigHit finally gave the members of BTS a couple months off

Though they noticed that after the first month and a half, BTS lost a bit of their momentum

They were still one of the largest performers in the world, but with them being on break and not releasing any music, dances, or videos, media somewhat lost interest and focused their attention on relevant celebrity news

To surpass this and keep BTS’s name trending, they made the executive decision to add another member

BigHit figured this would allow them to do more concepts, would change the dynamic/sound of the group's songs, and would ensure fans came back for their next debute to see who the next member was

BTS was made aware of this change but since they’re about to go on vacation, they don’t put much thought into it at first 

Until Namjoon texts the group, because you start trending number one on twitter with BTS after the announcement and of course Namjoon, is on social media 

Of course, your actual identity isn't revealed to the public

They all message their managers to ask about who you are 

Yoongi stalks all of your social media when they’re given your basic information

Jimin finds your Instagram and he lowkey thinks you’re cute but he’s not about to admit that 

Jungkook and Taehyung talk mad shit about you at first, to be honest 

Well, they don’t specifically talk about you, they’re more so angry at you being added because, in their eyes, there’s no need for a new member

Hoseok begins stressing day one because he doesn’t know how much you’ve been taught about their dances

He’s not really looking forward to the idea of having to teach a new person literally all of BTS’s past dances and work on changing the formations so you fit in

Namjoon and Yoongi are curious as to how BigHit is going to fit you during performances since you would only have parts in recent songs 

Also being the main producers of the group, Namjoon, Yoongi, and Hoseok don’t know what you sound like, whether you’ll be added to the rap or vocal line

It's basically a whole mess and everyone has to reconfigure

While BTS is on vacation, you’re actually in Korea learning the dances, in the recording studio, and practicing Korean nonstop

The first time BTS meets you is when they go to the dance studio to learn the new dance for their comeback song

You don’t know the dance either so figuratively, you’re all starting in the same place

You choke up when they first walk in

Namjoon and Jin are respectful to you, knowing that this was BigHit’s decision and they have no reason to hold a grudge against you specifically

Hoseok and Jimin remain professional but you can sense how much you being there stresses them out

Taehyung tries to be civil but you repeatedly catch him giving you dirty looks and rolling his eyes whenever you speak

Jungkook straight up ignores you

Not gonna lie, you’re first day meeting them goes awful 

But you already signed a contract with BigHit and your name was put out since BTS was officially back from vacation so no backing out now

It gets lonely real fast

You’re in a new country, the members of your group already have years of bonding over you, and the apartment you’re placed in is gigantic and extremely quiet compared to the dorms back in your home country

The members ease up a little after hearing and seeing you sing and dance and knowing that you can hold your own

Particularly Hoseok and Jimin, once they see you can keep up with them for the most part, they no longer worry about having to take time out of their day to specifically help you

Though this may also be a curse because Hoseok has a bit of a tendency to be harder upon his fellow members with choreography

You get called out/corrected by him SEVERAL times during practice

It isn’t until a couple weeks in when things start looking up for you

Yoongi had for the most part just focused on what needed to be done for the comeback, worrying about producing and perfecting the choreo himself, so he doesn’t really pay much attention to you

Until Yoongi notices it’s starting to become a pattern where you eat by yourself at one end of the room and he and the other members eat together or pair off

He’s pretty sure there have been a couple nights where you’ve pretended you weren’t hungry or made an excuse to eat alone when Jin or Namjoon politely invite you to eat

Jimin has noticed this too and has lightened up since the first day meeting you, but still keeps his distance

After an already long day working, waking up at 4am, Yoongi specifically makes sure that you can’t escape eating lunch with them

Most of them are too hungry to even try to object, not that they really would as you’ve spent enough time with them that they’re all starting to warm up to you 

Jungkook and Taehyung don’t give you looks as much but they’re still not their boisterous selves when you’re around

Hoseok and Jin are in their own world with their own conversation with Namjoon occasionally adding input when taking small breaks from his phone

Yoongi’s the one that really talks to you while you’re all eating

Jimin is honestly a sweetheart so when he sees Yoongi actually asking about your life, he feels guilty and joins in on the conversation

Yoongi finds that you and him actually have quite a few things to bond over

Jimin’s surprised at how funny you actually are

Once you got comfortable in the conversation, you said a few jokes here and there that made Jimin and whoever else listening at least smiles

Neither Jimin or Jungkook are thrilled at how easy is it for you to make Jimin laugh but the blush on Jimin’s cheeks show he doesn’t care about it nearly as much as Jungkook

If anything, this means more competition for Jungkook as you’re already close in age so he might lose the spot of maknae and now he has one more person to fight for attention with

Namjoon and Jin are honestly the most mature ones in the group so they’ve let go of any grudges they had after the first few days upon meeting you

Namjoon’s happy getting to know you at the pace you’re comfortable at, though for the most part, seeing he has to worry less about how to cover up the tension between you and everyone else, lifts a huge weight off his shoulders

He can make an excuse as to why Jungkook or Taehyung may be quiet and trusts them to not actually let their personal feelings ruin an interview/performance

You find out two months into preparing for the comeback that you’re still not allowed in group photos with everyone

You and the other members are doing a small, unannounced appearance and at the end, took a photo with the interviewer/crew members

That is until your manager pulls you from the photo and keeps you to the side where the camera can’t see you

Your name may have been announced but BigHit wants to keep your identity secret for the most part until the comeback stage

Taehyung can’t help but be drawn back to when he was kept hidden as a secret member and recalls exactly how it felt when he was pulled from photos

With this, Taehyung realizes that you haven’t put out any videos/vlives since joining them even though they all have 

This is the final push it takes for Taehyung’s behavior to change towards you

Instead of sticking with Jungkook, he actually starts seeking you out when you guys have small breaks and joins you and whoever else during meals 

At this point, you’re already on a good basis with everyone else and are closest to Yoongi, Jimin, and oddly Hoseok

Hoseok sort of took you under his wing when one night, you asked him for help with the choreo and eventually delved into how you loved dancing as a child

Hoseok thought it was cute the way your eyes lit on when talking about it and saw a bit of himself in you

On one of the rougher days, Taehyung overhears you crying after repeatedly being barred from photos/appearances with the other members 

Taehyung becomes extremely determined from that day to offer unconditional emotional support

Whenever you’re alone, if no one joins you, Taehyung’s right there by your side

If one of the instructors/producers/managers is harsh with you, Taehyung is there to defend you or make you feel better after

If you’re not allowed to take a photo/video with them, Taehyung makes them ten after to store for when you are officially introduced to ARMY

Jungkook only warms up to you after seeing the other members get close to you

He didn’t tell anyone, but he’s secretly happy that there’s another member that’s the same age as him 

Because honestly, having to constantly live up to the name Golden Maknae, is a lot of pressure

He hopes that with you being there, Army may stop expecting so much of him and he’ll have more room to simply be a person in their 20’s

Only when Jungkook gives you a chance, does he find that you can match his chaotic energy

He invites you to the gym a couple times and ends up having fun

Jungkook also invites himself to your’s and Jin’s mukbangs

Jin began having mukbangs specifically for you because you told him how little food you had tried that he had grown up with and took on as a personal mission to introduce to you Korean cuisine

With you, Jin, and Jungkook all in the same room, things sometimes get out of hand and sometimes noodles may or may not be thrown

Jungkook also discovers that he immensely enjoys picking you up

(Because let's be honest, you probably have a muscle kink like Jimin, at least when it comes to Jungkook)

Namjoon finds it hilarious that Jungkook will just pick you up and walk off with you 

Jimin gets a little jealous but he can’t stay mad at you and Jungkook easily finds a balance between you two

Jin’s just happy that Jungkook leaves him alone now that he’s focused on you

On top of being randomly carried around, you also find that the members have practically no personal boundaries with each other

Sure, if someone is upset or wants to be alone, they’re left alone, but when all in one room, your body is fair game to everyone

There’s a lot more ass slapping then you expected to come along with debuting 

Ass slapping, ass grabbing, ass petting?????

And you weirdly learn that everyone is okay with their crotches being touched/touching others’ crotches

Especially Hoseok and Jungkook

You’re no longer lonely either because someone is always cuddling with you

You walk past Jungkook or Taehyung while they’re sitting and they pull you onto to their lap

Jimin will help you stretch and if you’re not required to rehearse, just stays there

Namjoon, Hoseok, and Jin aren’t as openly needy as the hyung line, but if you all have to fit onto a small couch, they’re more than happy to have you be on their lap or be sitting in very close quarters with you 

Yoongi is the one you thought that didn’t actually like cuddling for some time but he never objects when you wrap your arms around his waist, hug him, or literally crawl on top of him when he’s trying to nap

You even one day as a joke, crawled into Yoongi’s lap while he was working in his studio so that you were chest to chest and you had your legs wrapped around him and he simply kept on working

You stayed in that position for so long and Yoongi becomes extremely quiet when focused that you dozed in and out for some time

When Yoongi decided to call it a night, he had to wake you up and you were incredibly sleepy at that point so he just brought you to his apartment since it was closer and safer than you traveling back to yours alone

Newsflash: Yoongi becomes an incredibly big cuddler when unconscious

By the time you perform your comeback stage, BTS is incredibly whipped for you 

Army first makes you number one on trending news when the music video/dance videos are released and you have a few performances

They all can’t help but notice how much the members of BTS love you in the first big interviews aired

You become integrated into Army culture seemingly overnight

Namjoon will show you memes on twitter where a fan may be calling out how handsy Jungkook was with you last interview

Or memes of Namjoon or Hoseok getting angry at members but when you do something, they’ll automatically let you off the hook and coddle you 

Memes of how you’re just another hot person that Jimin’s collected

You’re shocked that so many fans actually like you and accept you because you were incredibly nervous that  you would become hated for joining the group

Of course, there are still fans that are extremely protective of the boys or simply don’t agree with the group dynamic being changed, and so they come after you

For a little while, BigHit has to up security because some fans are so put off that they actually write you death threats

Hoseok and Jimin are the first ones to help you when you have a panic attack or get overwhelmed by fan presence as Hoseok has had panic attacks and Jimin’s dealt with death threats as well

Taehyung, of course, is quick to help right after them

Taehyung and Jungkook have had bad experiences being chased/mobbed by fans so they always stay close by you in airports/entering buildings/and any other place that attracts large enough groups they need security

Namjoon is incredibly grateful for you joining though, especially after the comeback because you’re able to help with translations for the members that still struggle with English

Jungkook has been dedicating to learning the language and for the most part, doesn’t need your help but he’ll still come to you to practice having conversations in English

Jimin also likes to play this fun game with you, Namjoon, and technically Jungkook since he’s able to translate if he wants, where he’ll say extremely flirty things and watches you and Namjoon squirm for a couple minutes because he knows you can’t translate what he actually said in an interview

Luckily he only does this for interviews that aren’t aired on tv and are made easily rewindable by Army

Yoongi and Hoseok have a field day with Jimin’s game too

Yoongi and Hoseok will just laugh when Jimin says something but once all cameras are off, they’ll repeat Jimin’s pick up lines to you and Namjoon leaving both of you a blushing mess

Yoongi does the same thing too in a way but instead of flirting, he’ll just say something inappropriate

He tries to tell younger Army constantly that things like stealing and dropping out of school are okay

Which huge ass nerd Namjoon quickly cuts him off

Yoongi and Jimin honestly feed into each other while doing this

Sometimes you and Jungkook team up on teasing Hoseok, using complicated English words and laughing when Hoseok pretends to know what you guys are saying even though everyone knows he doesn’t 

Y’all will continue to do this until someone else calls Hoseok out

But it's all in good fun so no one actually gets upset

Overall, you being added to BTS went much better than you were expecting and you’ve grown so close to the boys that none of you can no longer imagine the group having any less than eight members

Permanent Tag List: @eshika0102​ / @detectivebourbon / @omgsuperstarg​ / @luna-xial​ / @strawberry-leche / @yoongiismytruelove​

[romantichopelessly]

Not a Cinderella Story

This is my contribution to @dukexietyweek 2020! The prompt was Fairytales and I followed it... very loosely. This is also a bullet fic because I scrapped my plot no less than three times over the course of writing this.

Pairing: Romantic Dukexiety, Implied/Background Mociet

Words: 2072

Warnings: jealousy, misunderstandings, toxic behavior

Synopsis: When Remus, Roman and Virgil were young, they were inseparable. They always played pretend--castles and princesses and dragons. But everyone has to grow up. Things change.

----

Remus Sanders and his twin brother Roman have always been close. “Attached at the hip” some would say. Specifically, their mother, neighbors, and preschool teachers.

They always do the same things. They like the same juice. The same snacks. They play with the same toys, and they always laugh at the same things.

Their bond is unbreakable. They are the perfect duo. They never need anyone else.

Until they meet Virgil Storm.

They meet him early in their second grade year. Virgil is… a weird kid. He wears a purple jacket with cat ears on the hood in the middle of August. He doesn’t try to talk to anyone at lunchtime. He wears different colored socks and carries a lunchbox with cartoon spiders on it that says “Happy Halloween” even when it isn’t October.

He’s odd.

Remus loves him. And because Remus loves him, so does Roman.

The three of them make quick friends, underneath the tree on the playground, sitting in the grass and sharing easy smiles, as children do.

Roman suggests that they play a game that he and Remus invented all on their own--Knights and Dragons.

Virgil is quick to agree, because young children don’t have anything to worry about beyond silly games with their peers.

Remus believes that Knights and Dragons is a much more fun experience with three people. Sometimes Virgil is a knight, with Roman, and they both chase Remus around the school yard, giggling and waving sticks like they’re swords. And other times, Virgil is a dragon with Remus, and the two of them roar and yell and flap their arms like wings.

Virgil makes Remus laugh in ways that he thought only his brother could. Virgil laughs with him, not at him.

Of course, all good things come to an end, and soon, for the imaginative boy that was Roman Sanders, Knights and Dragons is not enough.

Knights and Dragons are boring in the eyes of a third grader.

Roman suggests one day that they add a princess to their game of Knights and Dragons.

Remus (rightfully) thinks that this is a very stupid idea. Princesses are for Disney movies and fairytales. Remus Sanders most definitely does not live in a fairytale.

But Roman loves fairytales. And Roman loves Disney. And, unfortunately, so does Virgil.

So they add a princess to their game. Oftentimes, this princess is played by Virgil, but sometimes Roman steps into the role. Remus is just glad that he gets to stay a big scary dragon.

That is… Until just a princess being kidnapped by a dragon and saved by a courageous knight is not enough for young Roman Sanders.

No, Roman wants more. Roman wants to emulate his favorite movies and his new favorite theme of said movies--

Romance.

So Knights and Dragons and Princesses turns into… Playing Cinderella.

There definitely wasn’t a dragon in Cinderella.

Remus is quickly shoved into the roles of the ugly stepsisters and stepmother. Don’t get it wrong! He loves playing the villain. He loves laughing maniacally and calling his brother funny names and getting away with it without punishment, because it was just pretend.

He doesn’t so much like sitting in the grass of his own backyard, watching while Roman and Virgil twirl around, holding hands and “dancing” to imaginary music while they “fall in love.”

It’s boring.

He’s almost glad when Roman’s phase of playing pretend Disney princesses ends.

Except that he can’t be. Because it ends with the three of them turning twelve and entering the dreaded halls of middle school. It ends with Roman joining the school theater club and making a whole bunch of new friends.

It ends with Virgil and Remus suddenly being left to walk home from school alone one day.

Despite his brother’s popularity, both Remus and Virgil are… outcasts of a sort. And since they just downgraded from a trio to a duo, their friendship is a bit more… strained. They still have the closeness of five years of best friendship, but there’s something… missing.

Cue Janus Duncan.

Janus is also an outcast. Janus is like a fairy godmother who comes in to save the poor outcasts at the last second, turning bleak days into wishes come true (if eating school lunch under the bleachers and snorting with laughter as they mix all the slushie options at 7-11 into one cup can be considered wishes come true), and wearing a super cool leather jacket that was two sizes too big, but definitely influenced Remus’s punk phase.

Because, oh yeah. They definitely both start their punk phases after meeting Janus Duncan.

Honestly meeting Janus really is a wish come true for Remus. A miracle among the comedy of errors that was his teenage years.

Because after about a year of Virgil, Janus and Remus being the perfect trio 2.0, Remus starts to… notice some things.

One thing is the way that his heart seems to inflate like a little balloon in Remus’s chest when Virgil smiles at him. The way that his guts squirm when Virgil laughs at one of his jokes, true and bright. The way that Remus catches himself staring at Virgil’s crooked smile, or his chipped nail polish as his fingers twirl around in his hoodie strings.

The second thing has… a lot of the same signs honestly.

Because Remus starts to notice how Virgil always watches Roman when he’s over at Remus’s house. The way that Virgil always smiles and waves at Remus’s twin brother when they pass one another in the hallway at school, his pale cheeks flushing a soft pink.

It makes a terrible, sickly green emotion curl in Remus’s stomach.

Jealousy.

So when Virgil tentatively brings up trying out for the school play, and asks Remus if Roman would mind running some lines with him, Remus does something he isn’t proud of.

He snaps. He tells Virgil that he shouldn’t try. That he won’t even make it. That he isn’t popular kid material. That Roman isn’t his friend anymore, god, Virgil, can’t you take a hint?

He watches it happen like he isn’t the one controlling his own body. He sees the shock take over Virgil’s features. The years of easy trust crumble before his very eyes as Virgil reels back in horror. He can taste the jealousy on his tongue.

As Virgil leaves, Remus knows that he is the villain of this story.

He can see it as plainly as if he had shattered Virgil’s dreams right in front of him, like so much of a shattered glass shoe on the palace steps.

That night, Janus comes over and lets Remus have it.

For about five minutes, before Remus breaks down and tells the truth to his now one and only best friend and lecturing quickly turns to comforting.

By the time that they start high school, the original trio has withered down to just Remus. The other two thirds are nearly distant memories. One a locked door down the hall, and the other three lockers down, speaking to new friends.

Anyone would choose the prince over the ugly stepsister. He couldn’t blame them.

The spring of their sophomore year, the school announces that they will be putting on a production of none other than Cinderella.

Roman auditions, of course. He gets the role of the Prince.

Virgil doesn’t audition, but he offers himself up for the role of stage manager.

Virgil and Roman’s friends Patton and Logan audition. They get the roles of mice, but they don’t seem at all upset by that fact.

Janus auditions. He gets the role of the fairy godmother.

Janus asks Remus to audition.

Remus refuses. He doesn’t want to play a campy version of the ugly stepsisters in front of the entire school. He may not care about this hell hole, but he isn’t going to make his remaining two years any worse than they have to be.

Janus drags Remus to rehearsals anyway. Kicking and screaming.

By some miraculous happenstance, Remus suddenly becomes the set designer for the show.

He may be imagining things, but he is pretty sure that that has something to do with what Janus, Roman and the director were whisper-arguing about in the first week of rehearsals.

Remus is grateful for it. Not that he plans on saying so. He still can’t bring himself to apologize to Virgil, but watching him from afar still brings those butterflies to Remus’s stomach.

One night, after rehearsal, Remus is putting the finishing touches on the carriage prop, which has quickly gone from inconsequential to him to his very own magnum opus. He’s just testing out its mobility when he hears soft laughter.

Naturally, he follows the sounds.

Stage left, hidden in the wings, Remus sees his brother, in full costume, standing across from Virgil, who is chuckling and gently smoothing his hands across the front of Roman’s costume.

Remus sees green. His old friend Jealousy curls around him like the dragon that he used to love to play.

He barely restrains himself from breaking the very set that he worked so hard on.

Funnily enough, that is progress.

The night before the play opens, there is a house party. Remus isn’t quite sure who is hosting, but the cast and company are the only people invited.

Remus doesn’t want to go.

Janus makes Remus go.

Begrudgingly, Remus has a good time. He has a good time drinking soda and watching the other stage hands tell stories about past productions. He has a good time laughing at Janus as he unsuccessfully tries to flirt with the boy in the bright blue sweater who plays a mouse.

He is still having a good time when the girl who plays Cinderella herself caps a plastic bottle and places it on the ground, calling for everyone to gather around for a game of spin the bottle.

Remus finds himself sitting between Janus and his giggly mouse boy, and some other techie who wears sunglasses indoors.

There are a few fun rounds. Roman has to kiss the girl playing the stepmother. One of the mice has to kiss Cinderella. It’s all in good fun.

That is, until Remus isn’t really paying attention and the mouth of the bottle is suddenly facing him. He blinks.

From across the circle, the studious looking mouse speaks up. “Janus clearly touched the bo-” The hand of one of the set designers covers the mouse’s mouth.

Remus blinks again. “So who’s the lucky bastard I’m making out with?”

All eyes turn to Virgil, who looks like a startled mouse himself.

Shit.

Virgil is up before anyone can say anything, backing away from the circle and spinning on his heel before making a beeline for the kitchen. Remus follows, standing up before his mind even catches up with his body. He sees Roman making to stand up too, but he holds out a hand.

Even after years of not being close, Roman can tell what he means without a word.

Remus follows Virgil into the kitchen and finds him leaning against the counter.

“Didn’t want to kiss the ugly stepsister that badly, huh?”

“What?”

“You… You know, Emo, like that stupid game Roman always made us play when we were ankle biters.”

“Wh- First of all, you and Roman are identical twins. You look exactly the same. That was just a game.”

Remus shrugs, as if he hasn’t carried that game and all it implied with him for the entirety of his teenage years.

“And… No. It wasn’t- I just didn’t want to kiss you in front of everyone.”

Remus pretends like that doesn’t make his heart shatter into a hundred tiny pieces.

Virgil seems to see it anyway. “I mean that I don’t want to… have my first kiss in front of all of them. It’s nothing against you, they just- they just all know about my crush.”

Virgil says it like it’s something stupid. Like being in love is something shameful. Like liking Roman Sanders isn’t something that literally everyone in that room except for Remus has in common.

“Your crush on my brother?”

Virgil looks at him like he’s the biggest idiot on the face of the earth.

He probably is.

Because he doesn’t see it coming for a second when Virgil steps closer, cups Remus’s cheek in his hand like he is made of something precious and priceless, and closes the gap to kiss him.

[georgemackayhey]

Remember Me?

"Could you please write something where the reader knows George from a long time ago and runs into randomly him after he's gotten famous? Really fluffy please?" - annon

This was so fun to write! Thanks for askin' nonny!

w/c: 2k

───※ ·❆· ※───

You sat in the airport, swinging your legs from the barstool of some overpriced pizza bar. Your flight to London had been delayed for a couple of hours and you'd ran to the food court for a distraction. While sipping from a soda, you cast your glance around the waiting gates, wondering where everyone was going, and what they might have been waiting for.

Then you saw him. George, your old school mate. Well, someone you went to school with. He was the boy who once gave up his seat on the swingset when you asked politely. You'd shared a few classes together, and maybe even a few hellos. But George couldn't possibly recall those times. George probably wouldn't even recognize you . Especially now that he was some big famous movie star.

Over the past year, you'd mindlessly scrolled past all the social media buzz that George's new film had gotten and felt selfishly blue because you wanted to say hello to him now. But you didn't want to waste his very important time.

Instead, you looked away from George as he meandered sleepily through a passing crowd while you turned, gathering your rubbish and heaving a sigh.

When you landed back in the waiting gates, you lazily tapped through your phone trying to avoid the time slowly passing time in the corner. There were still a couple of hours to kill, and you'd already wasted forty minutes at the pizza bar. When you scrolled past an advert for 1917 you couldn't help but stifle a giggle, feeling quite proud of how far your classmate had come. The only thing you were known for was-

   "Fainting nurse?"

Who just read your mind? You looked up in a flash, eyes wide and startled.

You hadn't been addressed like that since school. You'd managed to fly under the radar every year, but you just had to try stepping out of your comfort zone. So, you auditioned for the last year's production of Romeo and Juliet. You could blame your family for pushing you to try out.  Or the costume that was way too hot to be wearing on a stage under all those lights. Even after giving it your all during rehearsal, the second you stepped on stage to deliver your first big line, you stammered, looked to the impatient girl playing Juliet, and passed right out.

Through rumors, you heard that Juliet dragged you by the ankles off the stage in a huff. You woke up in the hall with a real nurse waiting calmly by your side and your family scurrying to come and make sure you were alright.

The last year of high school was a bit hellish. But George was playing Romeo then. And every time you noticed him around someone who tried to scare you bad enough to get you to faint, he would shut them down and apologize to you on their behalf.

Funny how it was him standing in front of you now, addressing you by the only name he probably knew you by. You couldn't blame him. Even then, everyone around wanted a piece of George's time. He probably hadn't the time to learn anyone's names who wasn’t begging him too.

   "Fancy seeing you here."  George seemed to smile. You realized that you hadn't said anything or even moved from your stunned position as he moved toward you, pulling his luggage in tow. George sat in the seat at your side, keeping his smile bright and his eyes on you.

   "H-hi." You managed to get out. Oh God, you might have blacked out again from all the recovered embarrassment and sudden attention. George was always nice looking but now, he was downright handsome. And he was looking right at you.

   "Did I ever tell you that during my first musical I had to run off before the first song ended and get sick backstage? I was so bloody nervous... I think I talked myself into the upset, really." George confessed, slumping in his chair. His bright eyes flickered to his lap and you recognized his genuine tone.

   "Worst part was I didn't even make it to the bins." George cringed, looking back to you. You brought a hand to your lips, trying to disguise a giggle. Why was he telling you all this?

   "Well, you seem to have recovered quite well, George." You nodded, acknowledging your acquaintance his status in school, and rise to practical stardom since.

   "I'm still trying, really. Sometimes I get so worked up over an audition I try out just to get over feeling like I'm not good enough, ya know? It doesn't matter the outcome, so long as I make myself audition."

   "Why are you telling me all this?" You laughed a little beside yourself. George had kept his soft gaze on you like a lifelong friend. The attention made your stomach fill with butterflies.

   "Two reasons" The guy held up two fingers, ticking them off accordingly. "I wanted you to know you weren't the only one who was nervous of Juliet. Rudest castmate I ever had to pretended to like. She was vile wasn't she?" 

George chuckled warmly. "And secondly my flight is delayed so I needed a bit of entertainment."

God, he was so naturally charming. It was he'd rehearsed this run in.

   "Now, like then, I'm not one for entertaining." You chuckled. "But you were always kind to me. You never once tapped a photo of a fainting goat to my locker." You pointed to George, suddenly registering the last thing he'd just said to you.

   "Kids are brutal." George softened, tossing you an apologetic grimace. But you'd mentally moved on from the topic.

   "You said your flight was delayed? Mine too." You grinned, sitting up a little straighter like this was good news. It only took a minute to realize you were on the same flight back home.

   "How shall we pass the time?" George pulled a face, keeping his eyes on you.

   "I suppose we could catch up." You playfully shrugged with a roll of your eyes. You didn't miss how George's sparkled.

Somehow, the next couple of hours passed in a flash. Between exchanging conspiracy theories and things you'd been up to since school, (and taking a painfully slow lap around the proximity of the waiting gate) it was time to board your shared flight.

Of course, fate would have it that George was sitting one row up and away from you. He made a show of pouting as you walked past him, because neither of you could deny the fun you'd had killing time together so far. Sitting so close yet so far away would make the seven-hour flight painfully boring.

But it wasn't long after you'd reach maximum elevation, that you spotted George popping his head in the aisle and waving you up to join him. The flight was only half full, due to many rescheduling after the delay. But you were still concerned about etiquette. You'd have to cross over the woman next to you, scramble a few steps forward and probably end up making a fool of yourself in the process.

You tried to stop George from whispering your name like a child. Even when you mouth a curse word his way, he wasn't letting up. That's about the time a flight attendant waltzed by, bringing a passenger some water and winking right at you on the way. Whether it was to shut George up, or make your dreams come true could be determined later. All you could focus on now was excusing yourself past the woman at your side and changing seats as quietly as possible.

George had the whole row to himself, scooting toward the window seat and greeting you cheerfully as you plopped next to him.

You and George picked up where you left off, trading jokes and even a few somber stories. When he suggested watching a film on the in-flight entertainment screen, you made quick work of searching his name. You squealed out loud when you found a movie he was in and made sure to tease him endlessly about your lucky score. During scenes George showed up in, he hid his face in his hands at your side. And after a beat of teasing him a little more, you couldn't help but point out his honest and impressive talent.

About four hours in, your eyes drooped and you fell asleep before you could stop your forehead from landing on George's shoulder. You woke up to find him watching out the window, but the blue of the sky was nothing compared to his eyes, especially when he turned and looked at you then.

   "Sorry." You mumbled, stretching away from him to the tune of the pilot announcing the flight's landing in a few short minutes.

Neither of you spoke as the flight landed, even though you tried too. What was the proper way to part ways, after such spontaneous fun? The trouble was you didn't want to part ways, not at all.

When you stood to leave the aircraft, George kept his pace in time with yours as you stretched into the airport. Maybe it was because it was three in the morning, and he was too tired to be in any kind of hurry. Whatever it was, you relished the last bit of time you were lucky enough to share with the handsome man.

He even lingered near you while you waited at the luggage carousel, staying silent all the while. You scrolled through your phone searching for a text from your ride who promised to fetch you some time ago. But instead, you found a string of texts from the person apologizing for canceling the last minute.

Oh, no. What were you going to do? After a quick google of the cab services in the area, you found all of them to be closed at such an hour. Your panic must have shown on your face as you googled an uber.

   "What's that face for? Gonna pass out on me again?" George piped up. He was standing in front of you and seemed to have found your luggage (and his own) from the carousel and brought it over for you. But before you could thank him you shot him a look and went on to explain yourself.

   "My ride's bailed. Perfect time to find out, huh?" You sighed nervously, looking back at your phone.

George clicked his tongue as you waited for uber to download.

   "How far are you? I can give you a lift." George softened, locking eyes with you and reading your expression again.  

   "I've paid to keep my car here, since I wasn't sure when and how often I'd be home. I can give you a lift to yours if you'd like."

   "George. That's too much to ask." You decided, starting to make an uber account.

   "I'm serious!" George laughed a little. The sweet sound caused you to look up to him once more. 

   "Don't you have a red carpet to go get ready for, Mr. Mackay?" You shyly wondered, considering his offer.

   "At long last, no. Thank God. Come on, y/n." George spoke your name, grabbing onto the handle of your suitcase. That's what sealed the deal. He'd recognized you all the way back at the last airport and spent hours delighting you in conversation. But he'd only just said your name for the first time since school. Maybe even the first time ever.

You had no choice but to float behind George, struggling to hide how smitten you'd become. Or maybe you'd always been.

George was still kind and cheery, even at four in the morning. In his car, he asked if you were warm and took a beat to enter your address in his GPS before taking off onto the eerily empty roadway. You were alone for the first time ever, but it felt natural. The silence in the car felt much like the shared, sleepy silence you shared during the last bit of your flight.

When your familiar neighborhood came into view, your heart sank. You still weren't ready for goodbye.

   "Thanks for the lift." Peering to George as he parked his car outside your flat. He insisted on carrying your bags up the steps, hardly giving you time to decline him. George opened the passenger door for you and reached for your bags as you stood on the pavement.

   "You've been far too kind. Thanks, George." You sighed, digging for your keys. He kept a groggy smile pointed your way as he followed behind up the steps.

   "I guess now you know where to find me." You joked, jamming your key into the door, taking a big chance at slyly asking for a next time with George. He was standing beside you, searching your face as you glanced toward him. He waited a beat too long to respond and your nerves took over, fearing you hadn't made yourself clear enough.

   "I seem to be having a hard time saying goodbye to you." You spoke, looking right at him with one hand on your door handle, ready to run behind it and hide in case he laughed in your face.

"What if... you didn't have to say goodbye?" George softly and slowly reasoned, casting a daring glance at your flat door. And with a couple of snickers and nervous nods, George made a joke about having already packed an overnight bag, and followed you inside.

It was a night you wouldn't soon forget.

───※ ·❆· ※───

Requests are open ♡

[starlocked01]

Eye to Eye

AO3

Masterpost- Previous- Next

Summary: Patton was born with brown eyes and figured he never had a soulmate to begin with. All it took was one theater production to prove him wrong.

Content Warning: Alcohol use

Day 17 PattonxVirgilxRoman- Everyone is born with dichromatic eyes. When you meet eyes with your Soulmate, your eye reverts to its natural color instead of the color of your soulmate’s eyes.

Patton was born with brown eyes. His mother cried over him most nights, studied those eyes looking for any hint of a difference in shade. When he was older, others pitied him for having brown eyes his whole life. "It must be so hard," they whispered behind his back with meaningful glances.

Patton learned to not make eye contact with anyone, and even when he was old enough to pretend he'd met his soulmate already, he still found it hard to look others in the eye.

Virgil was born with one brown eye and one blue eye. This was not out of the ordinary. Bullies found other reasons to single him out and tear him down. He grew out his bangs and dyed his life black in protest of their cruelty. No soulmate was worth the pain of being seen, so he didn't make eye contact with others often. Soon the whispers turned from his clothing to how sad it was he still hadn't found his soulmate. He learned to ignore the gossip.

Roman was born with one brown eye and one blue eye. He was excited to figure out which one was his natural eye color and which one belonged to his soulmate. He eagerly greeted everyone with a smile and met their gaze with confidence, and yet nothing changed. He had faith he would meet his soulmate someday and continued to tackle life with all of his energy.

Patton still wasn't sure how Janus had roped him into assistant directing the community theater production but there he was taking notes on auditions while Janus directed the hopeful actors. Roman Prince sure was giving it everything he could, but Patton was uncomfortable with how often the actor tried to make eye contact across the empty auditorium. Yeah, there weren't many people to focus on but it was unnerving for him.

Of course, Janus was impressed and had Patton star the man's name for the callback. Lovely.

After the auditions, actors and crew were milling around the stage and auditorium, not in a hurry to go anywhere. Patton wished they would leave because he wanted to go home and Janus had tasked him with locking up.

"Hey, Patton?" one of the techies tapped his shoulder. Patton put on a fake smile and turned around.

"Yeah, what can I do for you?" he asked sweetly.

"Some of us were planning on going out for a round of drinks to celebrate the start of the show. Would you like to come along? I'm already Designated Driver," the man barely looked up. Patton found that pretty sweet.

"Virgil, right? Yeah, I'll come along; I just have to lock up the theater. Let me clear this place out first," Patton grinned and stepped to the middle of the stage, projecting his voice to thank everyone for coming and to watch for callback and casting announcements. Most people got the hint and left and Patton gently asked the stragglers to move along.

"Now I'm not one to drink much," Patton was already on his second beer, "but you all are gonna be so fun to work with!"

Virgil snickered. The assistant director was incredibly cute when he wasn't avoiding human interaction. Not that Virgil had any right to critique anyone else's introvertedness, but he was very glad Remy had pushed him to ask Patton along. He felt warm inside just spending time with the man.

"Hey, Pat, who do you think is gonna get the lead?" Virgil probed.

"I dunno, that's what callbacks are for, Virgie," Patton giggled. He was playing up the effects of inebriation just a bit to get on the crew's good sides and it seemed to be working. Especially with Virgil.

Patton felt relaxed for maybe the first time in months. He was actually looking forward to working with everyone on this show. He glanced up at Virgil with a grin and the two locked eyes for a moment.

Something in the back of his head clicked, like flipping a light switch. Patton watched as Virgil’s blue eye swirled and turned brown. The look on Virgil’s face transformed from slightly put out by being the sober person in the bar to utterly confused.

"Patton, your eye…" Virgil couldn't really believe what he was seeing. Patton had brown eyes and he'd assumed that meant Patton had met his soulmate already. Why was one eye now blue?

Patton looked confused and pulled out his phone. He was startled to see the dichromatic eyes staring back at him from his camera. He never had a blue eye, why was his eye blue?

"Virgil, your eyes are both brown now… but mine are different colors? They've never been different before," Patton marveled at his eyes and Virgil pulled out his own phone to check his eyes.

"Woah… cool."

Patton put down his phone to grin at his soulmate. The other brown eye was apparently a mystery he could solve later.

Callbacks were a week later and Roman was flustered beyond belief. He'd made sure to clear his schedule well in advance because there was no way he wasn't going to get the best part he could. He practiced in a mirror and his smile only cracked once, seeing his different colored eyes. He loved his job and he loved theater; he did everything he could to lead a fulfilling life, and yet he had not met his soulmate yet. It was frustrating. They had to be out there somewhere.

The callback went smoothly and Janus posted the cast list the next night. Roman was ecstatic to get the part he wanted. Virgil prepared for the rehearsal process and Patton said a prayer that things wouldn't crash and burn.

Patton now had much more of a reason to look forward to the show as he would be seeing Virgil pretty often before and after rehearsals. Janus had even figured out the two were soulmates and often asked Patton to be the one to parlay with the tech crew.

Sometimes during rehearsals, Patton would watch the actors from the tech booth as Virgil used the blocking process to plan the lighting plot.

Virgil blushed under his foundation anytime he caught Patton watching him work. Rehearsals took too much time to plan dates but they definitely made the most of the time before rehearsal started and after Janus had dismissed everyone to get to know one another.

One night, a few weeks out from performance week, Roman suggested a cast party to celebrate the director. The whispers were kept backstage to preserve the surprise for Janus.

"Ah, Patton?" Patton turned at the sound of the actor's voice.

"How can I help you, Roman?"

"Do you know about the party?" Roman glanced around as he was asking. The theater was mostly cleared out.

"Yeah, Virgil told me about it. Tomorrow after rehearsal right?" Patton grinned, still busy trying to repair a prop.

"Yes! We need you to distract Janus while we set up, keep him from leaving, you know?" Roman grinned.

"No problem, Kiddo!" Patton looked up with a grin and the two made eye contact.

Just like with Virgil, Patton watched as Roman’s blue eye swirled and turned brown. He felt the switch in the back of his head and figured his brown eye must have turned blue.

Roman gasped, "Patton, I- your eyes! They're beautiful!"

Patton marveled, "thank you Roman. How is this the first time we've made eye contact? We've seen each other every day for a month now," he reached over and gently rested a hand on Roman’s cheek.

"Hey, is he bothering you, Pat?" Virgil emerged from the shadows of backstage with a scowl on his face, having just finished his nightly clean up check.

"No," both Patton and Roman replied at once. Patton grinned over to Virgil and Virgil’s breath caught in his throat seeing two blue eyes.

Roman grinned and reached out to take Virgil’s hand, "I hope you don't mind sharing him."

"I don't have much of a choice," Virgil smirked. He took a deep breath and met Roman’s gaze. Neither of their eyes changed visibly but both felt the same sensation they had when they met eyes with Patton.

"Well, who knew? Two soulmates each," Roman sighed happily, "and I found them at the same time!"

"We would have never found each other without Patton," Virgil pointed out, "his blue eyes were crucial."

"All eye know is that I'm so happy! I grew up thinking I didn't even have one soulmate, much less two. I love you guys- I hope it's not too much to say that already," Patton could feel himself tearing up.

"Well, this definitely isn't normal but I think we'll make it work," Virgil grinned as Roman gave them each a hug.

The party and the performances went well with most things running smoothly each night. Roman and Virgil spent the cast party after the last performance trying to drink each other under the table while Patton laughed and joked around with them and the rest of the cast and crew.

It was much easier to plan dates once the show was over and Patton couldn't be any happier. His soulmates' brown eyes never failed to light up his smile. He never thought he'd love brown eyes so much.

Tag List: @stoicpanther @ifrickenhatedeverythingaboutthis @idontgiveafuckaboutshit @tsshipmonth2020

[onlyyyariii]

The Interview

Part 1

"Let's all give a warm welcome to Ms. Liana Summers!" Jimmy says announcing me as I make my way into the stage.

I wave and smile at the audience before taking my seat.

"Boy do we have a lot to talk about!"

I smile and nod, "Thank you for inviting me. I love your show."

"Well most people do," he laughs and I let out a small giggle, "lets start with the movie you just finished up. What was it again?"

"Oh, it was a movie called Unrequited Love. I played opposite KJ Apa. He was my characters love interest."

"Remind us what the movie was about."

"Of course, so my character her name is Daisy Smith and she's loved this boy James Porter for as long as she can remember. They're friends, super close friends but she's definitely in the friendzone. Having such strong feelings for one of her best friends puts her in a place of constant stress and jealousy. She'd never tell him how she felt because she didn't want to lose him completely. The day after James tell her," I pause looking at the audience, "about something, she starts feeling sick. Soon enough she's coughing out flower petals and feeling the effects of Hanahaki disease. Of course her parents get worried and take her to the hospital where they learn of the disease. The rest you guys are going to have to wait for."

"That sounds like such a fun role to play."

"For me it was! I love acting and when I got the call that the casting director thought I would be great for the part of course I went in and auditioned but I got cast for the part about 3 days after I auditioned. Apparently I was just what they were looking for. Then I fangirled over KJ for a little bit before actually meeting him and getting to know him. It took us three months to film the movie. KJ and I have gotten close. We FaceTime a lot and I know he's watching this so," I turn to look into the camera, "I'm watching you K man." I giggle and turn back towards Jimmy.

"You two seem very close."

"Yeah we are, it's nice to have a boy best friend again, ya know?"

"While we're on the subject, do you miss your old best friend, Grayson Dolan? A lot of people say that things got tense between you two after you and Ethan broke up."

I had to laugh, that's the only way to keep my emotions inside. That's the only way to keep myself from full out sobbing on live tv.

"Sometimes I miss them. We grew up together and they were always there for me. The thing about Ethan and I's relationship is complicated. When the three of us got popular on Vine and then YouTube, I was always shipped with them. Like the fans would want me to date Ethan or get married to Grayson. For being such close friends it didn't matter to us, we often made jokes about it. Little did anyone know Ethan and I had been dating since we were 17. I was open with the fans about the fact that I had a boyfriend. I never let them know who it was, just that he and I were together. After about three years of dating Ethan told the world that he had a girlfriend. A few months later we announced we were together. At this point we'd been together for almost four years."

"Wow that's a very long time to be dating someone. Especially when you're so young."

"Exactly. Everyone wanted us to be together until we actually came out and said we were together. At this point we were almost 21. On two previous occasions Ethan had asked me to marry him, only to take it back after a month of me wearing the ring. The second time he asked I said yes because I loved him. I truly did love him but I told him how much I wanted to marry him and have kids with him and he freaked out. I wanted kids young, I didn't want to have my first child at like 28. After he freaked out I told him we couldn't be together anymore. Not only did I compromise with him but I also pushed back what I wanted for the sake of our relationship. I couldn't keep hurting myself anymore. After we announced our break up everyone started shipping Grayson and I again. It made me think that I must've chosen the wrong twin. If I was with Grayson, we would've gotten married the first time he asked and I'd probably of had a baby by then."

"We've all heard about Grayson Dolan and his baby fever that he's had for a long time now. Do you ever see yourself getting together with him or?"

"No, I dated his twin brother. It would be too awkward. Um, after getting out of a long, serious relationship you need a break from love. A break from other people to maybe focus on yourself and see how you've grown. You need to teach yourself how to be independent again. That's exactly what I told myself I was doing when I packed up my stuff and left their house. I moved all the way to Paris. I lived there for about two years before coming back to the states."

"Had you spoken to Ethan or Grayson during those two years?"

"Grayson had messaged me quite a few times but I hadn't spoken to Ethan. I decided to pay them a visit when I moved back to LA. When I found out that Ethan was already married to another girl and she was pregnant..." I shake my head, the tears that had collected in my eyes finally falling, "I broke down. Grayson explained to me that a few days after I left Ethan had met up with Kristina Alice, who we'd know for about four years, and they hit it off and started dating. It was gut-wrenching. I had always thought he was my soulmate and to come home and find him married with a child on the way, it really hurt me. I decided to lose contact with both of the boys after that. I blocked them on social media and everything. Cut ties with their family, after I did that I realized that for the first time in my life... I was completely alone."

"How did you manage? What did you do to fix yourself?"

"I got really into my job and looking for acting opportunities. I bought myself a house and a dog. I went partying with Tana Mongeau. I really wrecked myself. Until one day I decided to get over it. Now I'm here. Happier than ever."

"Well we're all very proud of how far you've come and how you tackled your obstacles to come out the other side a better, healthier woman."

"Thank you Jimmy, I really appreciate that."

"Of course," he turns towards the camera, "stay tuned because after this we get to play some games with Liana and talk about her upcoming book, How to Love Me. Right after this break."

The camera pans towards me as I smile and wave. I do have a new boyfriend but... they don't need to know that yet.

*********

Tag list: @fangdolan @luxplsr @333dolans @blindedbythelightt @rhyrhy462

[dinoyoongi]

Confirm or Deny (5)

SYNOPSIS: You’re a member of the rising group FRNZEE. You’ve been dating Namjoon for years when Dispatch releases an article exposing your relationship. Your company confirms the relationship. Big Hit denies it.

PARTS: ONE | TWO | THREE | FOUR | FIVE | SIX

PAIRING: Namjoon x Reader

GENRE: Romance, Angst

WARNINGS: Strong language

WORD COUNT: 3503

AUTHORS NOTE: A bit shorter than the others but I felt this was a good spot to end the chapter on. There will only be one more part to this before it’s over! I want to thank everybody for your patience - I’m definitely not as quick a writer as some others on here and when I do sit down to work on this, writer’s block hits me like a garbage truck every time. This chapter is kind of rushed and Namjoon-less but it I hope you’ll all like it just the same! Thanks for all the love. ❤️

___________________________________

BREAKING: Y/N officially departs FRNZEE & terminates contract with Hot Star Entertainment!

After two months of speculation of whether Y/N would return to FRNZEE after being attacked outside the KBS building, it's been confirmed by Hot Star Entertainment that Y/N has officially terminated her contract with the company. Y/N was recently involved in controversy after her company confirmed dating rumors between Y/N and BTS' leader RM that the latter denied. She had been removed from the group's comeback and was on hiatus from all activities when she was attacked by BTS fans outside the KBS building during a taping of Music Bank that she had attended with her manager out of support for her members. Despite official statements being released by both Big Hit Entertainment and RM – who uploaded a handwritten plea on Weverse begging for his fans to stop the bullying – Hot Star Entertainment felt that Y/N's mental health was being compromised and released her from contract.

“Like they give a shit about my mental health,” you snicker sarcastically, dropping your phone a little too forcefully onto the kitchen counter. From your peripheral, you can see your mother's lips turn downwards in disapproval at your foul language but she fortunately chooses not to scold you, recognizing the delicate situation. It's not as if this is a blindside. Nobody was pulling the wool over your eyes right now. You had been aware that they were permanently removing you from the group and from the company only one day after you returned home to Daejeon.

You're only surprised that they waited this long to announce it. You imagine it wouldn't look too good for them if they kicked you out of the group right after you were assaulted – no surprise there. Their image is all they care about.

“Has anyone tried reaching out to you?” your mother asks from the stove, stirring a steaming pot languidly.

Your eyes fall down to your still-lit phone, catching the small red balloon icon that signifies missed notifications. Calls, texts, voicemail, emails; you don't need to open them to see who they're from – you've spent the past week dodging any incoming forms of communication from everyone including your members, your former manager, the CEO of Hot Star, numbers that you don't recognize that you assume to be reporters and even all seven members of BTS.

Out of all the names that showed up on the screen on your phone, Namjoon's appeared the most.

His unread messages and unopened voicemails feel like an anchor on your chest. Is he reaching out to pity you for what happened with his fans? Is he reaching out to get back together with you? Is he reaching out to cuss at you because you dragged his name into your articles again? Is he reaching out to hammer that final nail in the coffin and be done with you for good?

All of these scenarios are equally terrifying so you pretend that the messages don't exist. However, there are times when you miss him so much that your chest physically aches and the thought of loading up your phone's inbox to listen to his voice is so devastatingly tempting. Playing his albums or watching him on YouTube isn't the same. You don't miss RM – you miss Namjoon. Your Namjoon.

You're not completely depriving yourself of him, though. Two months ago, the day of your attack, he posted a message messily scrawled onto a napkin to his Weverse account. Despite his username displaying as RM, your heart can tell just by his words that it's Namjoon. You've stared at the message so many times over the past few weeks that you have the words ingrained into your head.

ARMY,

Today, somebody I care about was seriously injured. I want to deny that our lovely ARMY would do anything to cause harm to other people. That's not Bangtan. That's not what we teach, what we stand for. But that was our logo on their phone cases. That was our lightstick in the pocket of their bags. That was our faces on keychains that hung from their straps. At the risk of upsetting some, I speak on behalf of the rest of the group to say to those who harm other people in the name of Bangtan – both physically and verbally – you are not ARMY. ARMY is better than this. ARMY is too good for this.

Please ARMY, let's always be better.

It's a simple message but one that you know was difficult for him to write. Having known the boys for the majority of their career growth, you know that the admiration they have for their fans is one-hundred percent not an act. Knowing that some of them assaulted you in such a humiliating manner had to have felt like a knife in the gut.

“Nobody,” you lie to your mom who quirks her brows, waiting for your response. “Nobody has tried contacting me at all.”

“When are you going back to Seoul?”

You sigh, dropping your eyes onto the kitchen counter. “Mom, why would I go back to Seoul? There's nothing there for me anymore.”

“What are you going to do then?” your mother asks softly. You hear the spoon she was stirring with drop the table, followed by a heavy sigh. “Is that it? You're done with your music career?”

“It isn't as if my contract just expired and I can shop around for new agencies. I was the center of a very huge scandal. I was the butt of jokes and online bullying for so long. I don't think there's an agency out there that would poke me with a ten foot pole at this point.”

“But you trained for so long. You didn't go to university. Y/N, what -”

Your body slides from the stool, your feet slapping against the linoleum so hard that your mother flinches from the sound. “I'm suddenly feeling kind of sleepy. I'll just go take a nap before dinner.”

She calls your name as you lug yourself upstairs towards your bedroom but you pretend not to hear. You're not angry with her – absolutely not. If you're angry at anything, it's your life. It's this situation. It's the world. It's a fact that most idols audition and join agencies for two things and two things only – money and fame. And while those two things can be really great at times, that's not why you decided to be an idol. You decided to become an idol because, well … there was really nothing else you could do.

Throughout your life, whenever anybody asked you “what do you want to be when you grow up?” you never gave the usual answers that your classmates did – police officers, veterinarians, doctors, lawyers, judges, the president. Your answer from the first time you were asked until the last remained unchanged: an idol. Music was everything to you. There was nothing that you could study for, nothing you could major in that would give you a sense of happiness and fulfillment like music did. Like music still does. It was the upbeat songs, the quirky choreography, the super cute but super outrageous outfits, the camaraderie and bonds formed between group members and the thrill of satisfaction when all of that came together for a comeback. That is what you've always wanted. There was nothing that came even close.

And now that you've had it, now that it's slipped right through your fingers … what do you do? What are you supposed to do with your life?

Heaving yourself onto your bed, you groan in frustration. Your phone chirps from the pocket of your hooded sweatshirt, alerting you to a text message. Waving the device in front of your face, you sigh when you see Ji-na's name.

Ji-na: please be strong. keep your head up. don't skip meals. i love you and i'm sorry.

Your chest throbs are you reread the words again. And then for a third time. If you were being honest with yourself, you stopped being angry with Ji-na and the rest of the group the moment you arrived home. If you were to put yourself in their shoes – would you have reacted the same way? An idol's career is already typically short; seven or eight years if you're lucky. Would you be willing to risk that for another person? The knee-jerk response might come easy to some but only those who have been in your shoes, trained as long and hard as you and your members did, can answer that question. But despite not holding onto any anger, you can't erase the betrayal from your heart. Ji-na was more than just a member of your group. Ji-na was your best friend. Ji-na was the hand that you reached for when FRNZEE was getting mobbed at airports. Ji-na is your first dibs sleeping buddy when you had to pair up in hotel rooms. There was very little that you couldn't and wouldn't tell Namjoon but if there was – Ji-na was the one you confided in. Ji-na was everything.

And going through this without her and Namjoon seems incredibly impossible.

Your eyes leave the phone, slipping over to the corner of the room where your suitcase and bags are haphazardly strewn about as you were too lazy to commit to unpacking. The one thing propped neatly against the wall is a sparkly, medium-sized gift bag, intricately tied with rainbow ribbons. Ji-na's birthday is coming up in week but you've had her present ready for months. Instead of leaving it at the dorms, you brought it home with you. At the time, you were so caught up in your anger and woes and self-misery that you had every intention of sending it back to the store once you settled in but now?

It seems you have a present to hand deliver.

_______________________________________

- TWO WEEKS LATER -

You've only been gone for two months but it seems like Seoul has already changed so much. The first big difference? There's now a doorman stationed in the lobby of the dorm apartments. You can tell that he recognizes you immediately by the way his cheeks flush red but he still refuses to let you go any farther, keeping you a safe distance away from the elevator. You get it, you really do. He was probably hired to keep out nosy reporters and fansites and journalists but knowing Hot Star the way that you do now, you have no doubt that he was also explicitly warned not to let you in. Sighing, you pull your phone from your bag, typing a few quick words to Ji-na before hitting send.

It only takes three minutes for the elevator to open with a loud ding and a flash of pale skin is hurtling itself at you. Ji-na wraps her arms around your neck so tightly that you cough from the pressure until she loosens her grip. You try to ignore the moisture that you see building in her eyes when she pulls away.

Grabbing her hand, she tugs you toward the elevator. “Come on. We have some talking to do.”

“Ah -” the doorman interjects, nervously stepping in front of you. “I'm sorry, Ji-na. She's on the no clearance list. She can't go up.”

Ji-na scoffs. “Even with my permission? Even though I'm bringing her up with me?”

He grimaces. “I'm sorry. It's my job.”

“It's okay, Ji-na. I just wanted to drop this off anyway,” you say, thrusting the bag in her direction. She stares at it for a few hard seconds before hesitantly accepting it. “Happy Birthday. If you're ever near Daejeon, let me know, okay?”

You turn on your heel to leave but a painful grip on your hand stops you. Ji-na twirls you around to face her, like a scene straight out of a cheesy drama. She's toe to toe with the doorman, facial features locked in what you know is supposed to be intimidation but on Ji-na it just looks like an angry kitten.

“If you won't let her upstairs, let's compromise. Your office?” she quirks an eyebrow, head jutting toward the door behind his podium. He contemplates this offer for a moment before relenting with a sigh, dropping a pair of keys into her hand.

“Don't tell your management about this, okay? She's not even supposed to be in the building at all.”

Ji-na throws him an obnoxious salute before yanking you into the room.

_______________________________________

Your heart-to-heart is long and full of anger, accusation, revelations, tears, laughter, giggling and so much more. While you're not ready to completely forgive her for leaving you behind that day, you've accepted the reality that Ji-na is one of the only friends that you have and you're not ready to let her go. She understands your continuing edginess with the situation and promises to do everything in her power to regain your trust and make it up to you.

You expected to leave with a heavier heart than you came with. Instead, most of the weight has lifted.

You only exit the doorman's office after Ji-na receives a text from one of her managers about a project meeting the group has soon. Her arm is around your side as she walks you to the front door, squeezing you tightly. “Please come visit a lot more. We have some off time coming up – would you mind terribly if I came to stay with you in Daejeon?”

You roll your eyes but your smile stays wide. “No, I wouldn't mind terribly. Just give me a heads up so I can stock up on soju and shrimp chips.”

She throws her head back to laugh loudly, bumping her hip to yours as the two of you take a few more steps toward the front door. “Yes! You know me so well! And you also have to make sure that you have tons of-”

“Y/N.”

The voice is jarring but immediately recognizable. Lifting your head, you meet the eyes of your previous manager. The last time you had seen him, he was loading your belongings into the back of a car that would send you right home. He gapes at you, gaze wide and shocked. Behind you, the doorman audibly groans.

“Um, he has nothing to do with this,” you hurriedly declare, throwing your thumb behind you in the groaning man's direction. “He was in the process of kicking me out, I swear. He's very good at his job. You guys should give him a raise. Okay, bye.”

You squeeze Ji-na's hand one final time before moving to scurry out of the building. For the second time today, fingers wrap around your wrist and pull you backward. You sigh as you yank your hand away. “A simple 'wait! stop!' would suffice. Why is everyone so grabby today? Look, I was just dropping off a birthday present for Ji-na. I promise that the doorman didn't let me go upstairs.”

“Y/N, I don't care about the doorman. I have something for you,” he says quickly before reaching into the tote bag that hangs around his shoulder. He rummages somewhat frantically for a few seconds before producing a business card, raising it into the air with pride and beaming as if it was the cure to a zombie outbreak. “You remember me telling you about one of my old co-managers for a different group who quit Hot Star and started working for P NATION?”

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion. This was not the greeting that you expected out of your former manager.

“Um … I think so. He's one of Hyuna's managers now, you said.”

“Yes!” he screeches, his chest heaving as if he has just finished running a marathon. You exchange a glance with Ji-na who looks equally perplexed. “Yes, he works with Hyuna. And he called me last week and said that Hyuna heard about everything that happened to you in the news. And so she started looking you up on YouTube and she thinks you're really talented and wants your contact information.”

It takes a few seconds for your brain to register everything that he has just said considering how quick, breathless and jumbled his words are. Ji-na is elbowing you excitedly in the ribs.

“I've tried asking Hot Star for your address but they wouldn't tell me anything. I was literally coming here to ask Ji-na to try to reach out to you so I could pass the information along but here you are! It's like fate!”

Ji-na throws her elbow much deeper this time, accompanying the jab with a sharp screech. You can see that there's something exciting happening but your brain isn't putting it all together yet.

“Um, why does Hyuna want my contact information? You said she heard about my situation in the news so she must know that I'm not with FRNZEE anymore, right? Or any company, for that matter. We can't collab or anything like that.”

Manager and Ji-na groan in unison, so in sync that it seems rehearsed.

“Y/N, please, are you really this dense? Do I need to dumb this down for you?”

You grimace but bat your eyelashes hopefully. “Would you?”

She sighs, slapping her hands down hard onto your shoulders. “Hyuna was kicked out of Cube for a dating scandal. Psy – who founded P NATION – signed her right after. You were kicked out of Hot Star for a dating scandal. And now Hyuna is contacting you. I mean, I'm just speculating here but there's no way this is a coincidence.”

Wait.

If she's saying what you think she's saying then …

Hyuna wants to contact you … to sign you … to P NATION?

All you were here to do was to drop off Ji-na's birthday present. After this, you were going to stop into a few cosmetic stores to stock up on some harder-to-find products and then treat yourself to a well-deserved oreo bingsu before heading home. Talking to Hyuna – arguably one of the most popular and influential females in the k-pop industry ever – about possibly signing with Psy's new agency was not in the forecast.

Realizing your stunned state, Manager smirks smugly, lifting your hand to drop the business card into before wrapping your fingers around it and letting it fall.

The card feels like fire in your palm.

“Y/N,” Ji-na's voice breaks through your haze. You glance up at her silently, her warm smile only heightening your nervousness. “Go home and call her. Listen to what she has to say or what she has to … offer. Okay? And then call me and tell me every little detail.”

“You guys, that can't be right. Hyuna and Dawn's scandal was different – they both admitted to being in the relationship. Nobody bullied or laughed at them. I … I'm a joke. Why would P NATION want to sign me? Do you think they're just going around plucking up poor little k-pop idols who are mistreated by their labels? No, they're smarter than that. They-”

A hand – belonging to either Manager or Ji-na, you're not sure which one – whacks you upside the head. The strength of the blow is painful but it has its desired affect – it shuts you right up.

“Stop it, Y/N,” Manager scolds. “What happened to you wasn't fair and we all know it. You worked so hard for FRNZEE and maybe this is your good karma. Maybe this is ...”

“Fate!” Ji-na squeals hysterically.

___________________________________

An hour later, you're sitting in the corner of the cafe by yourself, a heaping bowl of bingsu untouched in front of you. Instead, your eyes focus on the card that you've set down onto the table. You wonder if this is a prank; if someone from Hot Star is getting one last act of cruel revenge on you before parting ways completely.

But what if it's not?

What if this is what was always supposed to happen? Everything that has happened to you, everything that you've been through, everything that you've lost … was it for this? Half of you jitters in happiness at the prospect of being signed to a label that houses some of the greats – Psy, Hyuna, Jessi. But the other half of you mourns what you had to give up for this.

Namjoon.

Was this opportunity supposed to make you grateful for losing him? Are you supposed to feel like your breakup served some kind of purpose now?

It didn't. Most of the happiest moments you can remember are either with Namjoon or because of Namjoon. If the choice was your idol career or Namjoon then …

Why do you have to make a choice? Why can't you have both? Why is that wrong?

For the first time, you shift your eyes away from the P NATION logo and onto the phone number scrawled messily onto the bottom of the card.

Lifting your phone, you dial with trembling fingers.

< -- PREVIOUS CHAPTER || NEXT CHAPTER -- >

[captainseaweedbrains]

The Dance of the Color Guard, Op.64 Chapter 1

Katniss and Peeta used to be best friends when they were kids, but now in high school, they're barely on speaking terms. It isn't until they are forced together as the titular star-crossed lovers for their marching band's field show that they will have to face their past mistakes and try to get along if they ever hope of defeating the notorious Capitol Height's Imperial Marching Crusaders in competition.

It's all about winning and if that means pretending to be in love with Peeta Mellark, so be it.

But a lot can happen in six months.

Tumblr: x

Ao3: x x

April—Six Months Earlier

“Don’t be so obvious,” her music stand partner Leevy whispered in amusement, “but Peeta Mellark is staring at you again.”

“What?” Katniss looked straight up, not even pretending to be subtle, and locked eyes with the first chair trumpet player sitting directly across the room from her. His eyes widened for a moment, probably assuming she wouldn’t catch his stare with the clarinet section in front of him, but instead of looking away like a normal person would after being caught, Peeta Mellark smiled at her, his right eyebrow raising suggestively in question. Katniss gripped her flute and pointedly turned back to her music, knowing her section would be criticized next on their sloppy runs.

He liked to do that every so often during rehearsal, look at her like she was some kind of joke that amused him. Get her all flustered with those stupid eyebrows and smiles. Leevy enjoyed pointing it out all the time, drawing kissy faces with their initials in hearts on their shared music that Katniss would then furiously erase because what if someone saw that? People in band were gossipy enough with who was dating whom and who broke up with whom.

She didn’t want anyone thinking she had a crush on Peeta Mellark.

Mr. Abernathy, their band director, stepped between them on his podium, breaking any eye contact Peeta could make on her, and tapped his baton on his stand to grab everyone’s attention. “Okay, listen up, ya mangy teens! A few announcements before you all age me once more with your apparent lack of practicing. First being, next season’s field show—”

“Oh, can I say it?” Miss Trinket, their assistant director, asked, already pushing Mr. Abernathy off the podium. Miss Trinket was a small wispy woman, her height mainly due to the massive heels she sported no matter the season, but despite her title and small stature, it was clear to anyone with eyes who was in charge of any decision making for the band program.

Miss Trinket cleared her throat, smiling brightly as the room waited with anticipation. 

Marching season was one of the biggest things they did in the school year. Everyone looked forward to it and a strong field show could finally mean getting Athens Ridge High’s Marching Gladiators to finals and beating the crap out of their arch rivals: the rich snooty Capitol Heights Academy’s Imperial Marching Crusaders.

Every year they always came so close to beating them, but Capitol Heights had the money for large expensive props and Athens Ridge did not. They were lucky enough to have been able to afford new marching uniforms a few years back, replacing the threadbare grey ones with sleek black and gold. Mr. Abernathy always reminded everyone that he didn’t care about winning, nor did he give a rat’s ass about Capitol Heights and all their achievements. All he cared about was that they performed to the best of their ability and marched off the field with pride, but Katniss wanted their band to be the best. Everyone in the Athens Ridge band did.

“Can I get a drumroll, please?” Miss Trinket asked, looking pointedly to Gale in the back.

Gale rolled his eyes, but started the roll on his snare drum.

“This year’s marching show is…” Another dramatic pause.

“Will you just tell them, woman? This ain’t the Oscars,” Mr. Abernathy snapped, sick of all her flairs and dramatics. “We’re doing Romeo & Juliet. There. Now get off my podium.”

Miss Trinket held her ground, her pale features brightening under her anger, making her purple-streaked hair stand out more than usual. “Haymitch—!”

Everyone watched, entertained by yet another round of the two directors going at it once more. Katniss turned to look back at Gale, the head keeper of the betting pool, and he signed another two months before their directors would go at it like rabbits. She shook her head, laughing quietly to herself, and turned back to watch as the directors duked it out.  

“I’ve heard the music to this field show,” Leevy said after practice, cleaning out her flute. “It’s really pretty. I can see why Miss Trinket picked it.”

Katniss carefully tucked her flute back in its case, giving it one final shine before locking it shut. “You think Miss Trinket picked it?”

Leevy laughed and threw a pointed look over to where Mr. Abernathy sat slunk in his chair, stained coffee mug in hand as he scowled at some piece of paper. “I highly doubt Mr. Abernathy would choose a show like Romeo & Juliet without some heavy outside persuasion.”

She had a point there.

As they waited by the door, ready to book it the second the bell rang, Katniss and Leevy rolled their eyes at the chaos in front of them. Thresh Armstrong, a tuba player known for sneaking in toys from home, had brought out a foam football and had tossed it over to Johanna Mason, one of the smart ass percussionists, who almost crashed into the chimes trying to catch it. She held the ball up in victory and the guys around her hooted and hollered in applause. With a dramatic bow, she tossed it to Gale behind her, who caught it and called out for his girlfriend Madge to catch. Madge squealed in shock when the ball hit her in the back of the head, throwing the ball back at him in protest. 

“You’d think Abernathy would put a stop to that,” Leevy commented, laughing despite herself when the ball nailed Marvel Baxter in the face. “People can get hurt.” 

“Maybe he wants to see assholes like Marvel get hit in the face, too,” Katniss snorted, glad she got to witness it. “Do you think we’ll get to see Cato get hit in the face?” she asked, eyeing the bulky blond in the far corner with interest. 

“Doubt it.” Cato Martin was that stereotypical asshole who thought he walked on water and expected everyone to treat him as thus. And the sickening part was that people did. The school’s star quarterback was praised constantly in their school paper for his dedication to both the school’s athletic department and music department, despite being last chair in Symphonic Band and always being hounded for how bad he played by Mr. Abernathy. Despite his assholery, though, he always had a gaggle of followers around him, probably praising him for breathing. 

Katniss hated him so much, and it wasn’t just because they were locker neighbors and she was constantly having to shove him and whatever girl he was making out with off her own locker to squeeze in. Or that, since the 7th grade, he’s only referred to her as “Katnips Everslip” after a very unfortunate wardrobe malfunction at the community pool. Or even that time he taped rubber baby bottle nipples all over her locker sophomore year and only received a slap on the wrist by their dean, Mr. Flickerman, because he didn’t realize how offensive it was and he was so so sorry. Yeah, Cato sucked and she hated him for all those things and more, but she hated him most because Cato Martin was that entitled ass who just expected things to be given to him. He never faced any consequences and those were the worst kind of people.

Laughing at Marvel and his botched up nose, her eyes briefly caught Peeta’s and the amusement she felt seeing Marvel get nailed in the face vanished instantly. Every bully had that one lackey who wasn’t really an asshole, but was kind of one by association because he just went along with anything the bully did. Yeah, that lackey was Peeta Mellark. Which somehow made it even worse. She knew Peeta. Used to be friends with him in elementary school, back when your neighborhood friends were your whole world and nothing could come between you. Now he was just one of Cato’s goons who blindly followed whatever Golden Ass commanded. 

“Are you auditioning for color guard again?” Leevy asked, snapping Katniss’s attention back to her friend.

“Huh?”

Leevy’s eyes followed where hers had been and Katniss pretended not to notice the knowing smirk on her friend’s face, picking at a loose thread on her sleeve instead. “Are you trying out for color guard this year?” she asked again.  

“Of course.” Katniss flushed at her sure answer, but she always did color guard. It was kind of her thing, especially since Miss Trinket had singled her out freshman year, snatching 14-year-old Katniss off the practice field where she had been marching with her fellow flute players. “You’ve got the perfect arms,” Miss Trinket had told her and she’d been part of color guard ever since. 

“I’m hoping for captain, actually,” Katniss admitted, looking down at her beat-up sneakers. She hadn’t told anyone but Prim that, afraid she’d jinx it by putting it out in the universe too much, but going into senior year next season, she’d be the most experienced one auditioning. The odds were definitely in her favor, but the universe also had a tendency of fucking things up when she least expected it and she didn’t want to chance it.

Leevy sighed. “I wish you’d stay with the flutes. Maybe then I wouldn’t have to deal with that”—she pointed at the giggly flute players who were now fawning over Cato like lovesick puppies—"all by myself.”

Katniss gave her friend a sympathetic pat on the arm. “I’d rather shoot myself in the eye than have to deal with Golden Ass’ fan club. Why don’t you try out? You’re small, like me. I bet Miss Trinket would love that.” Their assistant director would be beside herself with joy at having another petite person in guard she could have tossed around. Miss Trinket was always complaining how there were too many tall girls nowadays and that it limited her “vision.” 

Leevy shook her head. “Oh, no. No, I don’t think I could ever do what you all do. Who would trust me to throw something in the air and expect me to catch it? And the way you did those handsprings for last year’s show?” She shook her head again in amazement. “I can’t even balance on one foot without falling. I’m nowhere near as talented as you.” 

Katniss’ cheeks darkened again at Leevy’s appraisal. Those handsprings were a bitch to grasp, she remembered, and the only reason she was the one doing them wasn’t because Trinket saw her as some talented goddess. No, it was just because everyone else was too afraid of doing them without any type of mat underneath them and Katniss wasn’t. She was about to tell her friend this—that yeah, she was pretty good with a flag and rifle, but all that can be taught and Leevy’s lack of gymnastic talent shouldn’t stop her from auditioning—when the foam football smacked her hard on the side of her head.

“What the hell?” She scanned the chaotic room for the culprit, rubbing at the spot where the ball hit. “Who threw that?” 

The culprit in question raised his hand apologetically and jogged over to pick the blue ball off the ground. Her hands balled into fists.

Peeta Mellark.

Of course.

“My bad!” he apologized, smiling down at her in that totally non-assery way that just pissed her off more. “I was trying to throw the ball to Glimmer and—” he started to explain, casually pointing behind him with his thumb.

“Your aim sucks that much?” she fumed, interrupting him. Glimmer was clear across the room by the other French horn players, far from where she and Leevy stood. “That could have hit my eye!”

There was a time, long ago, when she was once taller than him. She used to jokingly lean on Peeta while they waited in lines at school or the grocery store, calling him squirt and messing up his curly blond hair like his dad did, laughing when he’d scowl and pull away, hating that nickname. He always vowed he’d reach his growth spurt someday soon, just like his brothers, and she’d be sorry she ever called him squirt. Peeta stood almost a foot taller than her now, but she stood her ground. Glaring up at him, she considered using the old nickname, just to see if it rattled him

There was no way his aim was that bad. They’d had the same gym class for almost six years now and she knew he wasn’t terrible. Peeta was one of those guys things just came naturally to, especially sports. For years she has watched as he made the winning pass in basketball, smacked a volleyball down to score like nobody’s business, swiped the puck in during hockey. She smelled bullshit. 

This was probably some stupid dare Cato or Marvel put him up to. She eyed Marvel off to the side, still rubbing his nose. He was probably pissed at her for laughing at him and thought it’d be funny watching her get nailed in the face, too. Let’s see how hard the ball can bounce off Katnips Everslip’s tiny head! she could hear the idiots snickering. Marvel always did have a small ego. And of course, like always, Peeta just went along with it because that’s what Peeta did. Just go along with anything his friends suggested, even if meant injuring an innocent bystander.

“So why’d you throw it at me?” she point-blank asked, crossing her arms. “Did Marvel put you up to it? Cato?” 

His face quickly went from apologetic smiles to annoyance, rolling his eyes at her sneer. “You know, Katniss, believe it or not, accidents do happen.”

“Accident? Please,” she scoffed. “I know you, Peeta. You don’t do accidents. Everything you do is strategically planned and executed with exact precision. So who dared you? It was Marvel, wasn’t it?”

He looked back at his buddies and laughed, shaking his head incredulously. “I’m touched that you think I’m so robotic, Katniss, truly, but believe whatever the fuck you want. I said it was an accident because it was an accident.” 

“Just answer the question.”

“I already did.” He leaned toward her, his dark blue eyes mocking, and tapped the football on her nose with a smug smile, walking back over to his friends. Some of the guys made kissy faces at his return, laughing when Peeta shoved them to quit it, but he was laughing along with them. 

Katniss’ nails dug into her palms as she watched them, briefly wondering if someone could be glared to death. God, they were the worst.

“Wow,” Leevy breathed, watching the trumpet players, too. “The sexual tension is strong today. Felt like I was in a movie just now.” 

She turned to her friend, incredulous. “Sexual tension? With Peeta Mellark?” She gagged at the thought. “Did you not just see him be a complete ass to me? He hit me with a football!”

“Yeah and apologized for it.” Katniss rolled her eyes at the low standard bar Leevy had for apologies. Peeta’s apology was obviously fake and what about that annoying ball tap to the nose? Did she not see how condescending that was? “You two are so going to bone by the end of this year.”

The bell rang before Katniss could choke out a rebuttal.

[princessofguineapigs]

A Straight Line to You | Harry Holland Chapter 1

What person is this? First? Second? Third? Who knows? Prepare to know some of Y/N’s thoughts and some of Harry’s. But I’m still telling the story to you about you so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Also, I’m taking suggestions for how this story should progress.

University AU

The sound of voices singing let you know that you were getting close to the choir room at last. You kept getting lost in this large university building. All the buildings on campus were hard to navigate, but the music building was a true labyrinth.

You reached the doors of the classroom and tried to slide in discreetly, slowly shutting them behind you to keep from making noise. With the cacophony of voices, you don’t think anyone heard you come in. Certainly, no one saw you. You were used to being invisible.

You slipped in at the middle row of sopranos. The choir never stopped their song, even as you pulled out the packet of music you received the day prior. Being a transfer student, you weren’t sure of the protocol, but you were quick to identify which song they were on and began sight reading the music and singing softly. Thank god it was a song without many accidentals.

When the song finished, the director cleared his throat. 

“As you all know, in a few months, it will be time for our winter concert. This year’s performance has the potential to be a great one, especially with the orchestra accompanying us,” he said.

There were a few twitters of excitement in the group.

He continued on, “That’s why, I want to start the audition process for the Laudate Dominum solo next week. Any of you who wish to have a shot should start preparing. Now, let’s get back to it.”

With a nod to the pianist, the class went on to the next song.

*

Harry noticed her right away. The choir crescendoed in unison right before she entered the room, but the second she walked through the door, Harry’s voice faltered and all he heard was deafening silence. Everyone around him continued with the song, but it was as if all his senses left him except his sight. The miraculous vision before him was lovelier than any girl he’d seen before.

He craned his neck and watched this angel make her way unobtrusively to the other side of the risers. He knew then that he had to hear her sing. But there were too many voices for him to ever make out her voice like this.

When Dr. Cieber announced the solo audition, he prayed she would try out. He told himself he would introduce himself to her, so he spent the rest of rehearsal gathering the courage.

When it ended, Harry gathered up his things and strode over to her.

“Hey,” he said, lamely, kicking himself. Damn. He didn’t have a line. He didn’t even know what to say. He was so not smooth.

You felt surprised that someone was talking to you. You were notoriously shy and didn’t know why this super attractive guy had come over to you. Nervous, you tucked a piece of hair behind your ear.

You didn’t know why your heart was suddenly thumping out of your chest.

“I’m Harry,” he said, tucking his hands into his jean pockets. He was wearing a red jumper that made his ginger curls look even redder.

You wrapped your arms around yourself, still feeling unsure.

“I’m Y/N,” you introduced yourself.

“Are you...are you new?” he asked. He seemed nervous too. And so adorable. Wait, what? 

“Yeah, I’m a transfer,” you answered.

“I’m glad you joined choir,” Harry said, “What class have you got next?”

“Chemistry, it’s my last class of the day.”

“Hey, that’s great. My next class is in the same building. I can walk you there,” said Harry, “ y’know, if you want,” he amended shyly.

You’d gotten lost so many times today, you decided to take him up on it. Plus, you wanted to get to know at least one person at this school.

You put your bag over your shoulder and Harry picked up the books you’d been carrying that didn’t fit.

“You don’t have to do that,” you protested. You weren’t used to people doing things for you.

“What kind of gentleman would I be if I let you carry these heavy things yourself?”

You smiled gratefully.

“Let’s go then,” you said.

*

The next day, you were on your way to morning classes when you got a text from Harry. You had exchanged numbers after he walked you to class. When you read it you got butterflies.

Harry had asked you to meet up for lunch. Your morning was a blur of note-taking as your mind reeled ahead to when you’d see him next. Ugh, you had it bad and you’d only known him for a day.

When you reached the cafeteria, Harry was waiting for you.

“Let’s grab a table,” he said. In an old-fashioned gesture, he pulled out a chair for you.

“How have your first few classes been?” he asked.

“It’s beginning to shape into a tough workload already,” you laughed, “but I think I can handle it. I always liked school when I was a kid.”

“Nerd,” he quipped.

“And you’re not?” you cocked an eyebrow.

“Well, I’m not the smartest of my brothers,” responded.

“Your brothers? How many?”

“There’s four of us,” Harry said, “My younger brother Paddy, my twin Sam, and my older brother Tom.”

“So who is the smartest?”

Harry thought for a moment, “Sam.” he decided.

“So you’re saying you’re the stupid twin?” you joked.

“Hey, that’s not what I said!” Harry shouted a bit too loudly, but there was a smile on his face.

“So, do you think you’ll go out for the choir solo?” Harry asked, changing the subject.

You nearly spit out your tea. Where had that question come from?

“I don’t think so. I’m not confident enough to sing a solo,” you answered.

“Aw, I’m sure you sing beautifully. You’re so pretty with a speaking voice to match. I bet your singing voice is just as lovely.”

You blushed all the way to your ears. Meanwhile, Harry couldn’t believe he’d said that out loud.

As you and Harry talked, you found yourself staring into his eyes more. His irises were unusually detailed. They were brown and warm, but like a thick molasses with flecks of light caught in it.

Eventually, you did have to leave. This time, your classes weren’t in the same building. Harry offered to walk you anyway, but you declined. You didn’t want to make him late for this own class.

*

With your red jacket zipped up tight against the wind, you made your way back to your dorm, bag over your shoulder and books in hand. As you walked alone, you thought to yourself that you should probably make an effort to get to know some other people. Maybe some other girls.

You had seen a flyer for a forensic science study group. You could use some study partners and the girls in your class seemed nice. Maybe it would be fun. You had an hour to decide. In either case, you wanted to freshen up in your room first. 

Once you were ready (you had settled on going) you took a deep breath. You could do this. There was nothing to worry about. Just a study group. No big deal. You might even make a friend. Plus you needed to think about something other than Harry. You’d see him tomorrow at choir.

*

At the study session, you were greeted by a girl you recognized sat in the front row of your class.

“Hey, Y/N, right?” she beamed at you.

“Yeah, and you’re Briana?”

She nodded.

“We just got started. No one wants to study alone,” she said.

You sat down with the other girls.

“I’ve been so lost on this assignment,” you admitted.

“Let me take a look at what you’ve done so far,” Briana said. She skimmed over your work and the notes that accompanied it.

“I think we can work through this together,” said announced. 

You felt relieved. She was being so nice.

After a few hours of homework and studying, the conversation dissolved into girl talk.

“I know you’ve only been on campus for a few days, but tell me, have you spotted any guys you’re interested in,” Briana questioned.

It was a bit nosy, but you hadn’t had anyone to talk to about your love life in a long time. Plus you felt like you could trust her.

“Well, there’s a guy I met the other day. I know it’s early, but I think I’m falling for him,” you said quietly.

“Oooo, what’s he like?”

You sighed, “He’s like a dream, honestly. He’s the first person I met here and we connected so easily. I feel at peace when I’m with him, though I’ve only known him two days.”

Briana giggled, “What’s his name?”

You shook your head, “Sorry, not today. I’m not sure I want to tell people yet. I don’t want him to know.”

“Aw, I won’t tell,” she pouted.

You stood up, “I should get back to my dorm.”

“See you in class!” Briana yelled after you.

The moonlight cast shadows on the walkway as you scurried through the dark streets. You had no reason to feel unsafe, but you were paranoid anyway. The stars sparkled brightly above you. It could have been a romantic walk if you had someone to walk with. 

Just then you paused. Were there footsteps behind you? Surely not. You were almost to the end of the street where you needed to turn. Your dorm was at the beginning of the next one.

You glanced back. You didn’t see anyone behind you. You must have imagined it. Taking faster steps now, you carried on. Your own footsteps were light. The ones in your imagination were heavy. Funny, how our minds could do that.

You moved to round the corner. And time slowed down. Hands grabbed you from behind and you screamed as you were dragged backwards. You could feel your sneakers scraping helplessly over the pavement. You twisted and struggled against the arms. You felt the hardness of the back of your head smacking into something brick or stone. Your vision blurred and you felt darkness take over your senses.

End of Chapter 1

[13atoms]

Deep Focus: Chapter 2 [Tom Hiddleston x Reader]

Summary: Tom is a successful porn director with a romantic streak which proves very popular with his female audience. His resident porn actress and business partner has been with him through thick and thin, the two of them growing completely inseparable, even as her own career starts taking off.

But working in such close proximity is intense, and burgeoning feelings threaten to complicate their professional relationship.

Mature, smut, porn director!AU, ethical porn production discussion, porn-star-and-coworker!reader. Friends to lovers, slow-ish burn.

This chapter: [6.4k] Ao3 link

For the first time in forever, you were at the studio before Tom.

You couldn’t remember a day he’d been later than you, and you finally started to work alone as the clock ticked past midday. As punishment you sat at his desk, booting up your computer where his usually sat and ignoring the quiet fear that something was wrong.

The studio was too quiet. The kettle was cold. There were no props strewn about the place, no piles of scripts left on every free surface. There wasn’t a random actor there to audition, or tape marking out marks for a future shoot. As you stared out of the office doorway, absorbing the clean, lifeless space, you kind of hated it.

The camera was back where it belonged, the corner you’d shot in yesterday was empty. The lights were all packed away and the space seemed huge again. Like it had yesterday. If you closed your eyes, you could still see the cosy bed in that corner, the place on the floor Tom had sat as he watched you, the heavy black lens that couldn’t distract you from his bright eyes watching you.

Had you done something wrong?

You tapped nervously at your keyboard, opening your inbox just for something to do.

And there was that job offer: staring you in the face. You hadn’t replied yet, still undecided. It was a huge pay check. A one-off gig with a studio you knew Tom didn’t really like. They were… cutthroat. Rough. More traditional in their… treatment of their stars. You knew they were professionals, but the content they produced wasn’t exactly morally what Tom approved of.

The film they wanted you for was brutal. It would be safe, but it would be intense. Probably demeaning. Against the principles Tom stood for. You closed the email again.

The two of you had never thought to discuss exclusivity, and you wondered if it was implied in the working relationship you had. If he just… expected it. You needed to bring it up with him soon. You’d been avoiding the email for long enough.

“What else?” you sighed to yourself, half-expecting one of Tom’s usual snarky replies as you talked to yourself.

The office was silent. Your inbox was boring. You only had one more unopened email. As usual, it was from Tom, though one email was better than the usual half-dozen he sent you every night. It was titled: Approval?

That was the usual process, you approved the videos before they went live. But what was he planning on posting? There wasn’t anything for this week.

Unlisted on his site, you immediately recognised the set from today. The timestamp said forty minutes. For a moment you were gobsmacked, wondering how late Tom had worked to have that footage exported and edited already. Wondering why he’d uploaded it already. And how forty minutes had slipped through your fingers, watched silently.

It was a startlingly quick turnaround. He had to have a reason, he usually did. Yet your hand still shook as you hit play.

You winced at hearing your own voice, seeing yourself so out of control like that. But it all looked good. Scrubbing quickly through the timeline, there was one edit you were looking for. One clumsy edit that would look like a jump-cut, and you feared might ruin the film.

You didn’t see it. Instead, the whole video was uncut, even the moment you were sure he would remove. You looked debauched, ruined, hair messy and your body thoroughly overworked. But you could only look at your face. At the vulnerability, as you looked past the camera, staring at Tom.

Why did he leave that in?

In the moment you hadn’t realised how long you were looking at him, searching for what to do next, desperate for something from him. It was no longer your voice coming from the laptop’s tinny speakers, it was a deeper one. A comforting, soft tone.

“You’re doing amazing,” he said, clear as day. And then, “another one?”

You paused the clip, grimacing at the contorted look of desperation on your own static face, and let your face fall into your hands. Tom was never clumsy. He was a perfectionist. He was never in his own films.

So why had he left that in? You’d have to talk to him about it.

Then you’d have to save this copy of the clip.

Fuck.

The door finally opened, the jingle of Tom’s keys announcing him before he arrived. You didn’t bother to hide your screen.

“Morning,” he greeted, cheery as ever.

“Afternoon,” you returned.

That was his usual joke at your expense. Except he was late for once. He gave you a short laugh, so short you barely recognised it.

“Yeah, I know,” he conceded.

You offered an olive branch; neither of you really cared if the other was late.

“Up all-night editing?”

He hummed approval, barely acknowledging your comments. He’d already glanced over your shoulder as he reached for a folder, not acknowledging that you’d stolen his desk, wordlessly settling in opposite you.

Instead his short nails tapped against the folder, his feet settling against the outer side of the desk, as he seemed to look for the words to say to you.

You’d never noticed how much higher his chair was than your usual one, letting you peer down at him a little. You liked it. And wondered if it was intentional.

“I was surprised you got yesterday’s shoot polished off so quick,” you commented.

He had the nerve to look a little embarrassed.

“It was a good one, I, uh, I thought we could post it today.”

You raised an eyebrow, he kept talking.

“It didn’t even really need editing I mean you were… it was amazing. I think it’ll do really well and –”

He trailed off. You took the chance to interrupt him.

“I think you forgot to edit yourself out. Twenty-eight minute mark.”

You expected him to pull the video up. He just sat there, watching his hands as they tapped across that fucking file.

“You can hear your voice, Tom.”

He finally blinked up at you, and you suddenly realised you hated this. This switched power dynamic. You wanted to give him his big serious job back. Be the annoying, less-serious one who relished in kicking at his desk and winding him up.

This wasn’t fun.

“Is that a problem?” he offered, finally.

Your mouth opened in surprise.

“I mean, it’s your choice. You’ve just never done that before.”

“Hm?”

“I mean, your name’s always there but… you’ve never been in the films before.”

“It’s just my voice,” he brushed it off.

But both of you knew that was a lie.

Because that made him your costar. The person you were… performing to. It made him part of the fantasy itself. You closed the video in front of you. You didn’t need to watch any more. Couldn’t watch any more in front of him.

“Well if that’s all good… then yeah. Send it.”

You couldn’t hide the flatness of your voice, and you caught Tom’s concerned glance. You scooped up your computer before he could say something serious.

“I’ll, uh, give you your desk back,” you smiled, standing to swap seats, “your fancy chiropractic chair is hurting my spine.”

He huffed, but stood to swap places with a good-natured smile. You tried to conceal your jolt of surprise as he brushed past a bit too close. You’d opened your laptop back up again, ready to take on some bullshit task, when Tom reached across to gently close the lid.

“I wanted to talk.”

You set the computer aside, lacing your fingers together instead, your throat closing as you wondered what on earth about. Could he fire you? The seriousness on his face was enough to make you worried.

“What about?”

Your words sounded so flimsy, so much hollower than his rich, clean baritone that you wanted to say them again. Without sounding like a coward.

“Just… yesterday.”

You glanced up once to meet his eyes, but you couldn’t take it. Your focused on the shallow marks your nails left against the back of your hand.

“You seemed unhappy,” he continued, “and although the shoot was great, I just wanted to check in. I ask a lot of you, and I just wondered if it was too much.”

You blinked in surprise, and felt that hot shame rising in your chest. You had a horrible feeling you knew why you’d been so strange. And you couldn’t meet his eyes.

“I’m fine. Sorry, it was an off-day.”

“I’m just worried,” Tom placated, but you only heard concern.

“I can do the job,” you told him firmly. You were close to snapping at him, and you hated yourself for the dismay on his face. “I’ll be back to usual by the next shoot. I think everything being so… quiet… freaked me out.”

Tom closed his eyes, sighing heavily. You were surprised to look up and see his head resting on his knuckles, an unusual agitation in the fidgeting of his body language.

The moment passed in silence, and you watched him in concern. Wondering if you ought to be worried too.

“That was unprofessional. Yesterday. I crossed a line.”

He sounded sombre, so sombre it was jarring. You shook your head, surprised by how seriously he was taking this. How much it seemed to really, really nag at him. You wondered if ‘make it real’ was the nicest direction anyone had ever been given in the entire porn industry.

“You were just directing. We saved a lot of money on production,” you offered, “even if the video’s no good, it was free to make.”

He looked at you seriously, piercingly, and you felt pinned to the chair by the way he appeared to look through you.

“It was the best video we’ve ever made.”

You brushed off the comment. He said that all the time.

“I’m sure it’ll do well –”

“No, it… while I was editing, I just kept thinking… It was good.”

You’d seen his crouch yesterday, the speed he’d sent you off to shower. The memory had accompanied you late into the night. He’d definitely liked the shoot.

You wondered if that meant anything. Maybe not.

When you looked across at Tom, he was beet red.

“If you insist,” you shrugged, keen to move on from the moment.

Tom refused.

“That’s why I’m worried. That was your best work but… I feel like you were upset. Freaked out. If I ever cross a boundary like that you need to tell me. I refuse to be some industry creep, if you want someone else there while we film, or –”

“Who would I have, Tom? There’s no one I trust more than you.”

And suddenly his head was in his hands again, a dismayed groan quiet in his throat, and you wondered if he’d lost sleep over yesterday.

You wondered if he’d lost sleep for the same reasons you had.

“Tell me,” he insisted, words firm. “You have to tell me if I ever make you uncomfortable again.”

“I will,” you promised, “but you didn’t make me uncomfortable yesterday. It’s fine, really. I think I was just – ”

Overwhelmed by you.

“Spaced out.”

He didn’t buy it, but the conversation was going nowhere. You stared out the window behind him. There was nothing out there but a car park, but it was better than trying to work out what was happening in the office.

Tom cleared his throat. You tapped your fingers against your laptop.

That email at the top of your inbox was nagging at you.

“Do you think we need a break?” you offered, and Tom’s head shot up, lines appearing between his eyebrows as he searched your expression.

“What do you mean?”

“The studio. We should shut down for a week. I don’t know, pre-record something. You could book a holiday.”

The wry smile on Tom’s lips told you nothing was further from his mind.

“It could be nice,” he conceded, “only if you promise to take a break too.”

Caught.

“I’ve… I’ve been offered another job.”

Tom took his work seriously. It was his passion. He never accepted the industry for what it was – he dedicated every waking hour to making his work the best. It was the reason his kind, overly-sincere, oversized heart beat.

And in the quiet of the office, you could hear his heart breaking.

“Oh.”

“For one shoot! Not – Jesus – not actually another job. Triple Tricks want me to do a shoot. It’ll be like, one day. And I might need some time off afterwards so we could take the week off.”

Tom had blanched at the mention of Triple Tricks. He had winced at the mention of time off. You studied his face, trying to work out which emotion was seizing hold of him now.

It certainly wasn’t joy.

“Tom?”

He stayed quiet. You hated this schtick. He hated the other studio.

“We don’t have an exclusivity clause, do we? I did try and check.”

“What kind of shoot is it?”

He knew. If you needed time off afterwards, he knew. He was making you say it anyway.

“BDSM.”

You’d be bruised. That much was evident. You’d Googled them, heard of them through peers. But fuck the money was good. It would be zero-preparation. The concept was kind of hot, you thought you could sell it. It wasn’t scripted, you just had to… be a body. This wasn’t what Tom made. But you could still be good at it.

“You know I don’t like it,” he sighed, and you shrugged.

“A pay check is a pay check.”

And that was where you and Tom differed. This was more than money to him.

“Sorry,” you added, the word falling flat as you heard it.

“I can’t stop you, and you’re not exclusive to us, I just…”

“Don’t make it weird, Tom.”

“I do all this, we have this amazing shoot day, and you’re planning on working with ‘Tricks?”

He was being stern. You realised it abruptly, realised it from his growl and his carefully controlled volume, and the white of his knuckles as he clasped them together.

“The money is too good,” you retort, trying to match his firmness, and just feeling cold. The words are an apology.

“I’ve offered you more! If you need it, I can lend you – ”

“You don’t need to ‘lend’ me money, Tom! I earn it. Just like you. And now I can earn more. Wouldn’t you do the same? Name one other actress who only works for one studio.”

“I just want you to be safe.”

You frowned.

“Not as your… director. Or business partner. We’re friends, and they’re bastards over there. I just want you safe.”

“They won’t actually hurt me,” you promise, trying to push away the clips you’d seen online. Not really, you reasoned.

Tom’s expression told you he didn’t believe a word of it. And that he wasn’t just worried about physical pain.

“When’s the shoot?”

“I haven’t said yes yet.”

He sighed.

“You wanted to ask me?”

You nodded, and as soon as you saw his face in his hands, you knew your mind was made up. Tom remained quiet, and you wished you could see the inside of his mind.

“If you’re that against it, I won’t do it.”

The expression of relief on his face as so powerful, you weren’t sure you’d ever forget it. He just nodded, offered you a weak smile, and turned to his computer.

*

You weren’t sure how long you stared at the email you’d written, waiting blankly, as if you could send it telekinetically by staring long enough. It was short, polite, and you really hoped they didn’t test your resolve with a higher counteroffer. But it was done. You couldn’t betray Tom’s morals. Not for less than a very nice car, at least.

Tom had posted the video, you only knew because of your notifications, he’d tagged your work accounts social media accounts in everything to promote it. When you looked up at him, he was waiting to speak to you, hair tousled in the way it was when he absentmindedly tugged at it while he worked.

You could see his apology before you heard it.

“I’m sorry for being harsh. I just – I can’t tell you what to do, but please not them. If it’s another ethical studio you’ve got my blessing, but… not that. I can’t see you like that.”

You knew he couldn’t bear it. You were surprised by the relief you felt, hitting send.

A few minutes later he had made tea, settled in for a day of planning out future videos and not much else. These were your favourite days, just fucking around and dreaming up plots with Tom.

A hand settled on your shoulder as he set your mug in front of you, rubbing a little across the fabric of your shirt. You wanted to lean into his touch.

“You’re getting all of it. The money from that video, I mean. You deserve it.”

You frowned. That wasn’t the deal.

“Halves on everything, remember?”

He didn’t respond, but his hand just stayed there, a comforting weight as he stood over you. You could see his reflection in the window glass, the unusually solemn expression on his face.

“Call it an apology. For you turning down a good pay check.”

You smiled tightly, covering his hand with yours. That seemed to shake him out of his own head, giving your shoulder one last squeeze before he walked away from you.

“You did the edit! It’s your studio,” you protested.

“It’s our studio. And the edit… was a privilege. You made it easy.”

Tom closed the door after he left, busy fussing around with the props cupboard or something. You stared blankly down at your keyboard, wondering what the hell was going on inside his head.

*

As they days passed the incident was forgotten, as your easy friendship with Tom returned. You didn’t hesitate a moment turning down Triple Tricks’ second higher offer, too busy enjoying yourself with Tom. It was just the two of you, preparing for a shoot the next day, sharing the familiar space of the office.

“You’ve seen it a hundred times before!” you laughed, watching as Tom covered his eyes with his palm, his other arm reached out as if to warn you away. Your shirt was already off, bra following as you worked out how to get into the medieval princess costume Tom had ‘invested’ in.

“Not in our office! The bloody windows are open! Anyone could see!”

“Oh no! My modesty!” you mocked, ignoring him as you tried on the outfit, laughing at the tackiness of it.

It certainly was a ‘princess’ outfit, all gauze and corset – definitely not historically accurate – and you wondered where the hell Tom had bought this. You usually sourced costumes, but he’d been insisting on doing more recently. You tried to just appreciate the reduced workload, and ignore the nagging worry that you knew the reasons behind it.

“Help me with the corset?”

Groaning and dramatically uncovering his eyes, Tom circled around the desk to you, already eagerly kicking your jeans off. You’d been ecstatic when Tom told you it arrived, eager to just play dress-up, before the damn thing got ruined.

His fingers traced the edge of the fabric, making sure everything laid comfortably against your skin, and you impatiently waited for him to tighten the back of the bodice. Pointedly ignoring his soft, warm fingertips as they traced the material.

When he tentatively pulled the laces tighter you were pleasantly surprised with his costume choices. It fit like a glove. Rushing to a mirror, you ignored the rush of fondness you felt for the man as he eagerly followed.

“My tits look great!”

He fidgeted, one hand rubbing the back of his neck, and you tried not to relish in the blush painting his cheeks. He did that a lot recently: blushing. It was delightful, to see it reflected in the mirror.

“I, um, yeah.”

Turning to face him, he finally broke into a laugh, hands finding your elbows in that casual way he liked to touch you.

“What’s the end game here? I get fucked by a bunch of knights?”

He snorted, still fussing with the lacing behind you, and you bit your lip as his fingers tested the give of the fabric to make sure you weren’t being crushed.

“You make it sound so romantic. Haven’t you read the script?”

“Not yet. Sorry, Tommy.”

He tugged on the laces suddenly, making you jerk back an inch, grumbling as he laughed. The tightness of the fabric against your torso when he did that didn’t feel half bad. You filed that away for another day.

“What’s your plot then?” you teased, turning to face him.

You hadn’t realised you were practically in his arms, and you saw his gaze shift down from your face for a second before he spoke.

“A competition? For your hand in marriage?”

He crouched teasingly, lifting your hand, and for a split second you wondered if he was actually planning on kissing your knuckles. Nope.

A glance through the open door reminded you why you were here.

“That’s a common fantasy, right?” he faltered, the teasing edge of his voice dulled just a little with questioning.

“Yeah, yeah. For sure. I’m not sure about in porn though.”

He pursed his lips, thinking, as you finally got the hips of the dress situated and stepped into the studio to find a mirror.

He followed you as you examined how your body looked in the costume, and you caught the quirk of his lip as you spun, not hiding your excitement.

“You haven’t asked me what kind of competition,” he taunted. You took the bait.

“What kind?”

“Who can make you cum first?”

For just a moment, you didn’t know what to say. The outfit took on a whole new meaning as you imagined the shoot, where you would be in twenty-four hours’ time.

“You do know the way to a woman’s heart,” you hummed, not quite realising the implication to your words until you’ve said them. “I mean, what makes them tick. That’s hot.”

He chuckled.

“Glad you approve.”

There was a reupholstered chaise in the studio that he’d bought for the shoot, and you’d been enjoying lounging on it. Tomorrow you wondered if you’ve be enjoying it more, or cursing Tom.

Depended on the guys, you supposed.

“Who’ve you got?”

“Three guys, and a girl. Two of the guys are twins, it’s their whole thing. Seems as bit weird, but whatever.”

You frowned. Was that in the budget?

“That’s expensive, and… I don’t know them?”

He looked away from you in the reflection.

“I put it all on the spreadsheets. I didn’t’ want to bother you – ”

God. If he’d fucked up those cashflow statements, you were going to throttle him. He knew it, too. The corset just made you angrier as it restricted your ability to inhale and shout at him.

“They’re going to be inside me, Tom. I’d prefer if you bothered me.”

He winced, and you immediately regretted being so snappy, seeing the tightening of his broad shoulders as he stood beside you in the mirror.

“I… that’s fair. Sorry,”

You let the argument pass, a silent acceptance of his apology as you fidgeted with the costume again. He was trying. You trusted him.

The two of you definitely needed to talk.

“If I’m gonna be a princess I should have a tiara,” you teased lightly, eager to nitpick anything, just for Tom to be wrong.

Instead he smiled, smarmy bastard, disappearing into his office and returning with a tacky jewellery box.

“Your highness,” he held it out to you, and you rolled your eyes, frustrated by how quickly his stupid antics could win you back.

Flipping open the lid of the box, he revealed a surprisingly nice tiara. Certainly more a bit nicer than the plastic prop jewellery you’d expected, though certainly nothing outrageous. He set it delicately on your hair, wary of damaging it. You laughed at it immediately fell half-way out, sitting crooked an inch above your forehead.

“Absolutely majestic,” Tom teased lightly, but you sensed the underlying tension in his voice. An olive branch.

“Good choice,” you approved, reaching up to properly fix the piece in your hair.

In the mirror, you caught Tom beam.

*

The shoot ran perfectly. Like clockwork. Everyone was lovely to you, nothing chaffed, and you wondered if Tom’s guilt was the solution to finally having a problem-free shoot day. Well, aside from that other problem-free shoot day. But the two of you didn’t talk about that, even as the video had exploded in popularity. You were enjoying a healthy income stream from it.

You had no doubt this video would do well too. It had been hot, at least from what you’d seen in the monitor. It was more like Tom’s usual productions, full of reshoots and dialogue and an entire storyline which culminated in you reclined on the chaise, corset shoved below your bust and skirts pushed up.

For a whole afternoon you had just followed Tom’s commands on how much you were supposed to be enjoying the various different fingers, cocks and mouths of your costars. It didn’t escape your notice that he hadn’t written you anything remotely difficult for weeks.

“Lay back and look pretty,” he’d winked to you between conversations with the rest of the cast and crew, and you had smirked from your chaise.

Inwardly, you wondered what the hell was going on.

The tiara had pressed against your scalp as you’d been fucked, and the reminder of Tom’s sweetness made it difficult to keep your gaze on your costars. There was a tall figure behind the cameras seemingly begging for your attention. You realised you had forgotten to react for a few seconds, so distracted by your own thoughts, faking a moan as one of the men shoved just a little too deep into you.

“Wait!”

Fuck.

Tom must have seen you wince. The man – Michael, you forced yourself to remember – nodded to you apologetically, stroking more lube onto himself at Tom’s behest. He was the last of the actors to have a turn at pleasing you, and frankly you were exhausted.

“We can redo that with a close up, then we’ll move on,” Tom was declaring, but your mind was elsewhere, your body in that strange state of physical pleasure and emotional detachment. Your mind was elsewhere.

The chill of the room was getting to you, and you caught yourself shivering as the cameras were moved.

“Okay, sweetheart?”

You nodded, blinking in surprise at the feeling of Tom’s hand cupping your jaw, refusing to meet his eyes. He’d see right through you if you made eye contact. Satisfied, he moved on, behind the cameras again barking the politest orders to prepare for a few close up shots.

Oh, god. Time to go again.

Michael muttered an apology as his hands found your bare breast again, pinching at your nipple to make it harden again, and in that moment of tenderness you saw something familiar in his blue eyes.

“You are beautiful, you know.”

If you closed your eyes, that voice could belong to someone else.

You smiled, surprised by a more genuine sense of arousal settling deep in your stomach. As Michael gently probed a couple of fingers inside of you, testing you were wet enough to take him again, you had to bite back a moan.

He noticed. Of course he did. With a near-clinical curiosity he sought out your g-spot, gently pressing against it, and you felt yourself clench at the light chuckle he made.

“This could be fun,” he whispered to you, and you bit your lip, melting ever so slightly more into the chaise as he withdrew his fingers with a final stretch, rubbing a few hard circles on your clit as he left.

When Tom called action, you barely heard. You were too busy thinking about how much you actually wanted what was about to happen next. This wasn’t just fun, or pleasure. You needed it.

All the shot called for was Michael fucking you. He had to be ‘the best’ as Tom’s script had dictated. You weren’t aware he would be quite such a good fit for the role. He teased you with few shallow thrusts before doing what the shot demanded, his thick cock spearing into you in a way that made you gasp for air and clench at the sheer size of him.

He was grunting, saying something which fitted Tom’s storyline, but all you could do was take him. You were focusing on breathing, on reacting, you had no memory of what the script had said. You could barely remember his name. His fingers on your clit were giving you plenty of reason to forget everything, surprisingly dexterous as he fucked into you with the same pace as those tight little circles which were driving you closer and closer to forgetting you were on camera.

“Go on, sweetheart.”

That wasn’t in the script. It wasn’t even for the microphones. As he fucked you into the chaise, one hand bracing and the other working your clit like it was actually part of his job, Michael whispered only to you. And fuck, you could have sworn that ‘sweetheart’ sounded identical to how Tom said it.

You tried. You tried to be professional, to wait for instruction to fake an orgasm, but damn it Michael was good. He was pounding into you and pleasuring your clit and talking like that, and before you knew it he was pausing slammed inside of you so you could moan through an orgasm. With your eyes screwed shut and your senses overwhelmed, you clung to him, desperate for him not to stop with those damn circles on your clit, damn whatever the script called for.

In your most impressive acting to date, you remembered to moan the character’s name as your pussy continued to clench and spasm, Michael pulling out to finish messily on your stomach as you remained in a daze.

When the crew finally called cut you barely had the energy to sit upright.

And through it all, you wondered if Tom liked the shoot.

There was a typical shuffle as the crew packed up, as Tom paid the actors and bid them goodbye, typical chatter and panting and offers of water and showers which everyone declined. It took less than quarter of an hour for everyone to leave, and you barely moved from the chaise. In a robe, clutching an unopened water bottle, you were left in a silent room. The locking of the door, Tom’s footsteps. The dull ache inside you and the numbness that seemed to overcome you during every shoot lately.

Ever since that one damn solo video –

“Can I join you?”

“Of course.”

You moved your robe to let Tom side beside you, wincing for his nice trousers as he sat beside you on the sweat-stained burgundy velvet. You knew you should talk, say something lighthearted, move to face him, something.Your mind felt a million miles away as the cushion beneath you shifted with Tom’s weight, his solid body faintly comforting beside you.

“This needs cleaning,” he mused, no real urgency in his tone.

He was testing the waters.

Reply, you mind screamed. Your face fell to your hands, a deep sigh leaving your lungs. Tom fidgeted, fingers on the velvet between you, not quite ready to reach out.

“Are you okay, love?”

“Tired.”

One strong arm wrapped around you, making your robe shift against your warm skin, and you leant into Tom without a second though.

“What’s wrong?”

His voice dropped to a murmur, and you wanted to cry. And you weren’t sure why. Fuck.

“I’m really not sure,” you admitted, “I don’t know, Tom.”

Your voice caught as you spoke, tears threatening your eyes, and you could practically feel the change in Tom as realised how upset you were. His whole body shifted, pulling you against him, leaning back on the chaise and holding you to his side. You turned your face against the plane of his chest, makeup no-doubt ruining his white shirt, leaning your entire upper body on him.

And to your horror, you realised you were crying.

Tom said nothing. He just held you while you ruined his shirt with slow, quiet tears.

Then it was over. Out of your system. And Tom was still there, warm and strong and underneath you. You cleared your throat, pushing off him until you were just leaning against him, sitting under your own strength.

For the brief second you could looked to his face, you saw open worry on his features. You looked away again quickly, guilt filling you at the distress you were causing him. You wiped at your eyes, embarrassed. It had been minutes, but you had sobbed on him, still reeking of sex, barely covered by a robe. You tried to be subtle as you hid your face from him.

“How is this my life,” you muttered, pleasantly surprised as Tom broke out into a nervous laugh.

He stopped as you glanced at him, but you shot him a smile, careful to try and rebuild your sense of stability as he watched you. And not be an emotional wreck. You winced as you shuffled in your seat, twisting so you could talk.

“Overwhelming?”

You nodded.

“That’s an understatement.”

“You did brilliantly today,” he told you earnestly, “I’m sorry it was such a long shoot. One of those overproduced ones today, you know. Too many moving parts.”

You smiled, trying to conceal your amusement.

“I am well aware.”

“Right.”

You loved the pink dusting his cheeks as he looked down to his lap, a self-depreciating laugh on his lips.

“Sorry,” he murmured, “if it makes you feel any better, I think I’m going to be editing this for the rest of my life. We’ve almost run out of SD cards, there was so much footage.”

You snorted.

“It’ll be, like, three hours editing max.”

“It’ll be forever,” he whined, “I’m going to die editing.”

He was being a drama queen, one hand on his face and the other wrapped around your shoulder as he acted up. Trying to make you laugh. Just the sweetness of the gesture was enough to make you feel better.

“We can do it together, grab some takeaway, make a day of it,” you offered.

Tom looked ready to argue, to give you more time off, but instead his shoulders softened and he nodded.

“That sounds great, love.”

For a second the two of you looked around the studio, the empty space and the dents in the floor which had accumulated over the years, the white walls and the scattered equipment. The strange space which had started to feel like a second home, after all the time you’d spent here together.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

His words were quiet, laced with concern that he tried to dress in a light-hearted cadence, lips near the crown of your head as he asked.

“Overwhelmed,” you reassured him, “just tired. I just got a bit emotional. I’ll be fine, though. Just needed a cry, I think.”

“I can understand that.”

You wondered if he could. If he’d let you be there for him, comfort him like he’d comforted you. You hoped he would. The smudge of your makeup on his shirt was barely noticeable, and he batted you away as you tried to rub at it.

“It’ll come out.”

“It won’t,” you promised, and Tom rolled his eyes.

“It can go to the costume department then.”

“’Department’,” you snorted, gesturing to the tiny props room.

Tom’s hand on your shoulder tightened playfully, a more pleasant quiet settling over the two of you this time, both of you lost in thought. He interrupted your daydreaming suddenly, with an awkward clearing of his throat and a roll of his shoulders before he spoke.

“Can you be honest with me? It won’t affect how incredibly highly I think of your skill.”

You knew the question Tom was about to ask, and frankly you were surprised he had brought it up at all. But you sighed, nodded against him. Your pussy still ached.

“Yes?”

“Did Michael make you… orgasm? At the end there?”

You nodded, lips pressed tightly together, and waited for Tom’s reaction. It was understated. He pulled his arm a little tighter around your shoulder.

“Wow.”

His response made you laugh, and he joined you, astounded.

“Good for Michael.”

“I know, right? I hope you paid him a bonus.”

Tom huffed.

“For distracting my lead? I don’t think so.”

“’Distracting?’” you teased, “I think you mean ‘helping’. You know I’m not that good at acting.”

“Nonsense,” he chided.

You shoved your shoulder against his slightly, and he exhaled dramatically in complaint, though you were sure he’d barely felt it. His thumb snaked further across your shoulder, kneading into the tense muscle of your neck. He was being serious again, and you felt yourself stiffening even under the touch of his hand.

“I, um, I owe you an apology. I should have consulted you more on the script. Checked what you were okay with, let you choose actors. And the budget… it’s over. I think it’s worth it but I –”

His hand had stilled on your neck, and you found it hard to distract yourself from the feeling of it against your robe.

“Tom it’s fine. Just… don’t do it again, you know?”

“Of course.”

He really meant it. You loved that about Tom. He always really meant it. That made it more fun to tease him, too.

“Although I do enjoy you going so easy on me recently,” you teased, knee bumping his.

You felt his chuckle as clearly as you heard it, tinged with awkwardness at being caught.

“You’re getting famous these days, can’t have you running off to someone else because I didn’t treat you well enough.”

“Tom…”

“I’m serious!” he protested, and you realised suddenly that he was really worried.

Worried you would leave him. Professionally, of course.

“Besides,” he continued, “why would I make you do anything worse than you have to?”

He wasn’t just talking about the books. Those emails from the BDSM studio had shaken him more than you’d realised. He’d read the second offer, raising his eyebrows at the number after you left your phone flat on the desk, and you wished he hadn’t seen it.

You half expected him to start forcing cash into your hands before you left, he was so desperate to compete. But you didn’t work with him for the money.

“This is my job, Tom. I’ll do whatever I have to.”

He sighed.

“I know, and you’re amazing at it, don’t get me wrong. But you shouldn’t have to do more than you want. Your numbers are great, but that doesn’t mean you have to keep going. We can get more people on board, you can work less – “

You frowned, and he picked up on your worry immediately.

“I’m not firing you! I just think, you’re so good off camera too, and we make so much…”

Fidgeting on the chaise until you could speak face to face, you found his forehead lined with worry, and insecurity painting his face which didn’t suit him in the slightest.

“I’ll tell you if I’m unhappy,” you promised, “but I don’t need to be wrapped in cotton wool, I’m fine.”

He didn’t believe you. You didn’t believe you. As his thumb started to smooth across your shoulder soothingly, you tried not to think too much about why.

“I don’t want you being uncomfortable – or worse – when you don’t have to be.”

You cleared your throat, coughing as you swallowed awkwardly, and winced at the immediate distress on Tom’s face.

You knew both of you were reminded of the same moment, of Tom rushing into a shot, of the actor who’d accidentally gone too far, not noticing he was ramming his cock into your throat too hard until you gagged and coughed and coughed. You’d been watery-eyed and coughing an hour later, long after Tom had called the shoot off and wrapped you in a robe, and then into his arms. He’d pulled you close on the couch in his office, muttering apologies into your hair until you hadn’t wanted to hear the word sorry ever again, your voice hoarse as you promised and promised it wasn’t his fault.

It shouldn’t have been a big deal, but both of you had almost quit that day.

Your throat had hurt for weeks. Tom had been angry for longer, blaming himself as though something a thousand times worse had happened. On the chaise, he was holding you like that again.

Like you needed his comfort. His protection.

You often wondered if it was the other way around. Like he needed to feel like he was protecting you.

“We don’t have to do that anymore,” he soothed, “we can just let you enjoy shoots. I know they’re work but –

One word stuck like shrapnel into your chest.

We.

On the chaise, Tom was reaching for your water bottle, opening it for you and silently imploring you to drink. If only for his sanity.

Between gulps you insisted: “I’m fine.”

He didn’t believe you.

“Go and shower, love. I’ll drive you home.”