#the current state of the film industry terrifies me

[rq-producerperson]

Hello!

Basic question: any tips for getting into a career involved with creative stuff? (Anything, but specifically audio design and writing.)

Additional information about my specific situation I suppose: I'm heading into my second year of college, and have been working towards getting my degree in anthropology with the hope of going into artifact preservation/restoration. However that's kind of always been a... Second priority, I suppose, as I've always wanted to make a living off of my writing, but assumed that even if that was really possible, I should get a degree in something else.

Last year at school I was working as a stage tech for the college of the arts there (mainly for concerts, not theatre), and I loved it a ton and genuinely wouldn't mind a career in that vein.

The last three months I've been working a shitty assembly line job (9 hour days in a windowless room doing the same thing over and over and over and-). The only plus side to it is I've had plenty of time to listen to stuff, and I've gotten really into Magnus. The Q&A episodes and things like that made me realize that there are other things I could do (and love) in a creative vein than just writing. I'd also never considered that my enjoyment of doing tech for live stuff might translate outside of that, but I really genuinely think it would.

So next year I'm taking a bit of a jump and I'm going to be taking some of the introductory journalism courses at my school. (There's a film and media production emphasis under the major with plenty of room for more fiction-oriented work. And then grad school is something I've been seriously considering since I learned the word anthropology, so that's still very on the table if I choose to pursue this.)

This has been a really big switch for me, and quite frankly I'm terrified of getting stuck at a job like the one I currently have for the rest of my life, with a creative degree just rotting in the corner. (At least with anthropology there would probably be another five+ years of school after undergrad, so that was less of a looming issue.)

Just... Any advice on getting my foot in the door? Especially with hopes of eventually moving out of the states?

Sorry for such a long ask, I'm very bad at being brief. :p

Thank you!

Heya, thanks for the Ask. I’ve had this one sitting for a while thinking of the best way to answer, because the truth is that life is variable so I struggle to give what I feel is meaningful advice when the landscape is always shifting.

However, I’ll do my best with what I know.

The keys that I think are best are Patience, Perseverance, and People.

First, Patience.

I’ve mentioned this a few times but it’s important to remember, life changes quickly and the creative market is constantly shifting. Being able to pursue a job in the creative industry means having the patience to wait for the right wave to paddle to, the right gust to lift you up. But like with nature, there is never a guarantee that the winds or tides of fate will flow your way. There’s an element of chance to it.

You have to be prepared to change and take chances when you feel they are right for you. Shoot out before you’re comfortable and you’ll sink, wait too long and you’ll miss a great wave. I can’t give an answer to when is best to know your ready or what the right chance is to take. I CAN however advise that waiting, watching, and learning is the best chance to take that shot. So, learn as much as you can and stay curious and adaptable.

Second, Perseverance

When you have decided a path to trod, a wave to ride. You commit. Know how to move with the current and keep your focus. It’s easy to keep laying out options, but when you have found that Moment that’s right for you to act on your chosen course, you can go in half way.

Before RQ and during the first half of my employment here I was always working two jobs. I’ve done retail, freelance, post graduate work, office administration, accounting, entertainment hosting, you name it. I was an office assistant when I started at RQ but quickly knew that even though I couldn’t make money with it (it was still just Alex in a Yurt at that time), I wanted to commit to it, to make that job the best thing I could do, and I kept a simple day job to make ends meet. I got lucky, I found a mentor who taught me how to advocate for myself and that I had a creative voice after spending years being beaten down. But I also had the conviction and perseverance to know there was something worth building on.

And we did that together.

Which brings me to my last point, People.

You hear a lot in the creative industry that it’s “about Who you Know” and that’s true, but not entirely in the way you think. Learn about people, what their strengths are, how they compliment each other. Surround yourself with likeminded people that want to attain the same goal, have the same passions. Breaking through the creative industry cannot be done in a vacuum. Always make sure you have a support network of other passionate, skilled, and dedicated humans.

Don’t know how to meet people? I bet you do more than you think. Fandom was my in, not just from shooting my shot, but for teaching me how to work creatively with others. (I still try to do art companion work with fanfic writers when I can)

So yea, maybe it’s a standard answer or underwhelming, but the truth is there is no magic key. There’s Skill, Luck, Determination, and Community that make these kind of jobs possible.

[larielmusic]

Yep, it’s February 2nd, 2023, Groundhog Day! And I’d like to take this opportunity to share about one of my favorite movies of all time, Groundhog Day, starring Bill Murray and Andie MacDowell, on its 30-year(!) anniversary. 

The film, known as an “existential comedy” by the great Harold Ramis, is now considered by most theologians to be one of the great depictions of a universal spiritual lesson - what the hell are we doing here, what is our purpose, and when do we achieve enlightenment? To Bill Murray’s character Phil Connors, it means having to live the same day over and over until he finally gets it right.

There's a popular phrase in 12-step rooms - "insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results." There are innumerable ways and means in which I was the Phil Connors in my own life story, reliving the same experience over and over, furious and terrified and bewildered as hell, wondering why nothing was changing.

So, throughout my life as a creative, in order to pay rent and live, I would take these office jobs. It was the quintessential day job, trying to strike the perfect balance of little responsibility (entry level) and no demand (I'm not spending one fucking minute after 5PM at this bitch.) Because, I AM AN ARTIST. I don't have time for you people. I would look down my nose at the other workers, the interns, and of course the bosses, privilege and contempt dripping from my pores. You dare to ask me to wipe down the conference table or order lunch? I graduated magna cum laude! I studied Shakespeare, assholes! And, the years would pass and those interns would turn into my next bosses (meetings may be temporary but kale salad orders are forever.)

Sometimes I would try and pull a geographic - I'd quit the job in a dramatic fashion (oh, please, who am I kidding - I'd give a month's notice because I was sooooo indispensable), start looking at grad school applications in other states, or even move across the country. But somehow, no matter where I went, there I was - somehow with the same job, the same boss, the same misery and giant ol' chip on my shoulder getting ever heavier.

But what about your creative endeavors, you ask? Didn't you focus your energy and attention to working on your craft, using every possible free moment, each available cellular unit of energy, to create? That would be a giant fucking NOPE. Instead, I just became obsessed in the pursuit of it, much like Phil Connors' pursuit of Rita.

Just like Phil memorizing French poetry, I thought maybe if I KNEW all about the music industry, then I could finally break free of my self-imposed eternal prison. I turned into one of those annoying people you meet at cocktail parties, spouting expertise and blabbing about all the current trends in music, etc (I even made a podcast!). But to actually sit down at the keyboard and create??? Oh HELL no. My art was placed on such an insanely high pedestal, adrift in the waves of "if onlys" and "somedays" that it became the Moby Dick to my Captain Ahab, somewhere out there in mystical perfection, my hopes of ever finding it getting dimmer by the day.

Once Phil realizes that he can't escape this eternal day loop, the wheels come off and he starts acting out, in fun ways that eventually turn dark. For me, faced with my endless loop, It was far easier to "get busy dying," to quote my other favorite movie. Just stay in the shit, endlessly complain about this boss or that stupid-ass project, eat and drink away any notion of taking personal responsibility for my circumstances, and find whatever distraction I could* to relieve the anguish that I was a failure, a joke, a victim of life's cruel sense of humor. (*dive bars, Netflix binges and doom scrolling are a few favorites of mine)

So, what's the turning point, the solution, to all of this? For Phil, it's coming to terms with the fact that there is no solution. He's tried everything, including several creative ways to off himself, but he keeps waking up at the same time, in the same place, every day. He's had to let go of the illusion that he could control anything, least of all the possibility of a tomorrow.

He starts to poke around the walls of his self-imposed prison and starts taking a sincere interest in his fellow cell mates. He learns how to play piano (nice one, Phil!) He learns ice sculpture. In addition to self-improvement, he becomes a friend, a counselor, a comfort and a support to everyone in the town - a George Bailey of Punxsutawney, if you will. He learns to love without any expectation of return. And he tries to make each day, each "same" day, the best day of his life.

So, have I personally achieved Phil Connors' Nirvana? Um, no, because my life is not a movie. Have I been inspired and humbled by Groundhog Day? God, yes. When I stop and think about it, some of the coolest people, the smartest people, the most thoughtful and creative people I have ever met in La-la land were from these office jobs. Some of my most enduring friendships have come from office jobs. So much kindness and generosity came from the very people I resented - the bosses who asked about my music, came to a show, donated to my tip jar, championed me and protected me from far worse outcomes and possible destitution that I never realized until much later. Saved my ass, basically, and asked for nothing in return.

“Life is art. Art is life. I never separate it.” – Ai Weiwei Being an artist is tough. For whatever reason we have to support our art, sometimes over several lifetimes, until it can support us. However, the jewels of inspiration are in the fabric of the every day, the life we are living in this very moment. Sure, I'd rather be inspired by the whitewashed walls of Rick Rubin's studio than the gray matte fabric of an office cubicle, but life's what you make it, with the tools you've been given. To quote Phil Connors, "I think people place too much emphasis on their careers. I wish we could all live in the mountains at high altitude. That's where I see myself in five years. How about you?"

[bewitchingbooktours]

Black Hills Wolves by Celia Breslin - Haunted Halloween Spooktacular

Beware the Night Hag By Celia Breslin

My childhood was filled with my Irish grandmother’s stories of the “Wee Folk”, as she called them. Some of her tales were whimsical and fun, while others sent chills down my spine. One of my favorites is her personal encounter with the Banshee, who she heard wailing when her own grandmother passed away. She also told me stories about the Old Hag, a malevolent, nightmare spirit…

Also known as the Night Hag, this wicked fairy visits you while you sleep, sits on your chest, and makes you have nightmares. She then feeds on the negative energy created by your heightened emotional state. Locked into sleep paralysis, you experience horror, fear, anxiety, and panic, aka her favorite food. Her appearance is as frightening as her vampiric power. My grandmother described her as a wrinkled, knobby old woman in a tattered, hooded cloak, with skin like charcoal, and burning red eyes.

My grandmother’s tales of the fairy folk have inspired me to write my own stories of the Fae, including one about the Night Hag. In my dark fairy tale, titled “The Night Hag,” the wicked fairy uses a glamour to hide her true appearance while she stalks her victim…

(excerpt, “The Night Hag”)

“... Fog poured inside like creeping vines, and with it came a slender woman.

Her willowy frame melted and solidified as she stalked toward the bed, her moon-white dress dancing around slender limbs. Waist-length platinum hair snaked around her head, tendrils reaching forward as if tasting the air, as if seeking out Morgan. Glittering red eyes set in a pale gamine face focused on her. The woman reminded Morgan of an evil Audrey Hepburn, the actress in all those classic old films she used to watch ages ago with her long-deceased and sorely missed Nana Shannon.

Evil Audrey hovered at the foot of the bed by Morgan’s feet, canting her head as if listening to Morgan’s thoughts. A wicked grin flashed and disappeared on the entity’s haunting, beautiful face. “Evil Audrey.” 

Crap, the scary-as-snakes ghost thing could definitely read minds. The tightness in Morgan’s throat increased, and she struggled to catch a full breath. Fight-or-flight flooded her system, yet she remained paralyzed, which was bad, bad, bad, what with a spook in the room and the fact a panic-induced asthma attack was on the way ...”

Happy Halloween!

Diamond Moon

Black Hills Wolves 

Celia Breslin

Genre: Paranormal Romance

Publisher: Decadent Publishing

Date of Publication:  March 27, 2015

ISBN: 978-1-61333-803-2

ASIN: B00T2E7ZEY

Number of pages: 85

Word Count: 29,737

Cover Artist: Fiona Jayde

Book Description:

Human-wolf hybrid Darci Diamond spends every full moon locked in auntie’s basement in Southern Oregon. Her excruciating shifts terrify her, the last one causing her heart to stop beating. Seeking a cure, she journeys to Los Lobos. 

Ross Luparell returns to the struggling Tao pack, using his millions made in the tech industry to build homes for pack families in need. He never imagined he would also find his one true mate. But when a hybrid with the biggest green eyes he’s ever seen lands on his doorstep in the middle of a wicked summer storm, there’s no denying it. She’s the one.

She wants a normal human life, free from pain-filled shifts. He won’t give up on her Wolf, and will do whatever it takes to help her accept her true nature. But can he convince her to trust him with her heart?

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Audiobook

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Under a Mating Moon

Black Hills Wolves 

Celia Breslin

Genre: Paranormal Romance

Publisher: Decadent Publishing

Date of Publication: September 18, 2015

ISBN: 9781613338940

ASIN: B0148W4RHW

Number of pages: 114

Word Count: 32,200

Cover Artist: Fiona Jayde

Book Description:

British Alpha wolf Jake Marsden spends his days among humans, pursuing a lucrative music career and avoiding his pack’s politics. When his current DJ tour takes him to the US, he stops in Los Lobos to visit family, and runs into the one Wolf he never wants to see again—the mate who rejected his claim.

While visiting her brother in Los Lobos, free-spirited Lexi Luparell is shocked to encounter the Wolf she’d denied when they were teens. Now she must face her guilt for the cruel way she spurned him all those years ago, make amends, and admit the truth. Jake was right all along—they’re meant to mate.

Lexi would love to explore the mate concept and her overwhelming attraction to virile, alpha Wolf Jake, but he wants nothing to do with her. How can she break down his defenses when she’s the reason he built them in the first place?

Jake dates only human women now. Lexi had her shot at being his mate, and she threw it away. But when her life is threatened, he may have to rethink his position and do whatever it takes to claim his one true mate.

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Jasmine Moon

Black Hills Wolves 

Celia Breslin

Genre:  Paranormal Romance

Publisher:  Decadent Publishing

Date of Publication: June 3, 2016

ISBN:  9781683610458

ASIN:  B01GKB9WMO

Number of pages:  108

Word Count:  36,400

Cover Artist:  Fiona Jayde

Book Description:

Tech mogul and workaholic Wolf Evan Luparell has little time for distractions but takes a break for his brother’s wedding in South Dakota. When asked to escort another wedding attendee from the airport to Los Lobos, he agrees. Then he meets the curvy spitfire, and she ignores him.

Designer and Wolf Mina Carver didn’t mean to be rude to the handsome, glowering man claiming to be her ride, but she was busy working. Now she must endure a ride to the Black Hills with the cranky but sexy Dominant Wolf. Unexpected mating energy sparks between them, but still—should she dismiss, or kiss him?

Kisses win and they agree upon a no-strings fling. But with each wedding activity throwing them together, and their powerful chemistry and mate compatibility complicating matters, can two workaholics truly have their fun then walk away?

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Read an Excerpt: https://wp.me/p2fl3L-1VX

About the Author:

Celia Breslin lives in California with her husband, daughter, and three feisty cats. She writes urban fantasy, paranormal and sci-fi romance, and has a particular fondness for werewolves, vampires, the Fae, and cyborgs. When not writing, you’ll find Celia exercising, reading a good book, hanging with her family, or indulging her addiction to fantasy TV shows and movies.

Website: http://www.celiabreslin.com      

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/celiabreslin/

BookBub: https://www.bookbub.com/profile/celia-breslin 

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/CeliaBreslinAuthor  

Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/CeliaBreslin     

Newsletter: https://dl.bookfunnel.com/q8ghvjgpgc

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[casspurrjoybell-26]

The Contract - Chapter 21

*Warning: Adult Content*

After a long day of filming, I make it back to my trailer completely exhausted, bloodied and bruised.

The scene went perfectly, Amanda did really well during the sex scene where her dad bursts in the room and catches us in the act, then throws me out of the house.

During that scene, Dave Burrow, who plays Amanda's dad in the show apologized if he had hurt me during the throw out scene, making the whole crew laugh considering he was this 6'6 guy who looked completely terrifying.

After everyone had finished laughing and wrapping up, I was told by the director that 'Love You To Death' was currently number one on every international paid streaming service online.

When I shut my trailer door and opened my phone from the charger I found, my phone was completely blown up with text messages from Natalie and the agency stating that I was being seriously considered to star in movies, adverts and more shows.

I had photoshoots lined up for magazines for the next three months, where I'll be positioned right next to supermodels for well know perfume brands like Dior, Hugo boss and Givenchy.

My life had never been so busy and at twenty two years of living, I can finally say that I've made it.

I've finally got to where some actors only dream of.

So why couldn't I enjoy any of it?

Donovan's words ring in my ear 'I made you famous' over and over, whenever I hear about a new opportunity or that I've been offered a part in a movie.

Going through my phone, I have countless messages from friends and family I hadn't spoken to in years, not since my dad passed away, there were hundreds of them, way too much to go through every single one, not after shooting from early in the morning till 9 PM at night.

I scroll through and one thing I notice is, that I didn't get a single text or call from Donovan.

I don't care.

I should just listen to Jill and move on, focus on my work so I can pay him back and never see his fucking face again, maybe even change agencies, the thought had crossed my mind more than once during the weekend.

If I move agencies now, there would definitely be raised eyebrows about why and that's when life gets messy and people start digging for gold, they might even find out about the contract.

I don't even know what my sexuality at this point is and if word gets out that I had a sexual relationship with a famous and wealthy businessman billionaire like Donovan Steele, a well-known public figure in the industry and business world...

There's no saying what the headlines would say, or how much my life would turn upside down.

I groan, stressed to hell and rub my face roughly, just as there was a knock on my trailer door.

Sitting up and putting my phone down, I shout 'come in'.

My co-star, Mich Brenner comes inside my trailer holding two cups of coffee.

"Oh," I say, literally drooling. "You're officially my favorite person," I tell him.

Mich laughs and hands me a coffee and sits down next to me.

"Figured you needed this after a day like today. I know I do," he said grinning tiredly.

"You had no idea," I say, taking a sip and then sighing out a moan. "I'm so tired I can barely see straight."

"You even put cream and honey in it," I laugh and he shrugs.

"I've watched you make your drink every day for the past week, only you use honey in your coffee on set," he grimaces. "You're practically a freak of nature Evan."

I shrug and put the coffee down and then put my hoodie up, feeling all kinds of tired as I yawn and then pick up my phone to check the time.

"I should go or they're never going to let me leave," I joke, getting up.

Mich follows me, grabbing his coffee.

"It's getting pretty wild," he says. "I heard that they're considering you for some award. You were even on the news the director said."

I freeze and then feel pale.

"Why?" I ask, trying my best to act casual.

Mich looks at me like 'really? you don't know?'

"Dude, you're 'Connor Whitlock' The new heartthrob of Hollywood in a hit series and it's not because of Amanda, that brainless barbie doll is a sad excuse for an actress," he scoffs. "I heard she only took this role because she's drying up on offers," he shakes his head, taking a sip of his coffee. "If it wasn't for you, her career would be long dead and this show wouldn't be number one. All the other cast agree," he adds, shrugging.

I'm completely speechless.

The nasty tone in Mich's voice when Amanda came up, almost made me punch him in the face for talking shit about her behind her back.

She didn't deserve that.

I never expected any of this from Mich.

He always seemed like a nice guy, to everyone, including Amanda.

"Must be why she's clinging onto you and following you around between sets," he laughs out like it's the funniest thing ever. "She's so pathetic."

That's it. I've heard enough.

"Maybe you should keep your fucking opinion to yourself, Mich," I stop walking and snap out. "I didn't realize you were doing so well getting parts to shit on her for trying to stay afloat."

Mich's eyes widen as he stands there speechless, looking at me like I grew two heads.

"Thanks for the drink," I say dryly before dumping it in the nearest trash cash, then walk away.

Fucking piece of shit.

I hate guys like him.

He had been flirting with her during every break between sets and now he's calling her pathetic for landing a job and struggling.

Mich is just fucking sour that Amanda rejected him or some shit.

Knowing Amanda, she's not into pricks like him, the type to talk about you behind your back.

He's the pathetic one.

I should've punched him in the fucking face..

I turn around a corner and see Amanda, leaning against my trailer with fresh tears falling down her face.

Oh fuck.

I walk over to her and wrap my arm around her as she sobs into my jacket, while I rub my back comforting her.

"How much of that did you hear?" I ask softly, feeling like an asshole for not shutting him up sooner. "He's just being a..."

"He's right you know." He says quietly, her throat hoarse. "I am pathetic and washed up. T-There were plenty of other girls better to take this part, I only got it because I know the author of the book." she hiccups. "A-And it's only doing well because of you E-Evan, everyone loves you."

I want to scoff and tell her that she has no idea what she's talking about but I keep my mouth shut and stroke her hair as she lets it all out and cries into my chest.

Amanda sobs quietly, wrapping her arms around me as I try my best to console her, with thoughts of finding Mich and beating the shit out of him.

"Come on, don't cry," I say, pulling away and wiping her tears with my sleeve, seeing her tear-blotched face. "Fuck Mich. He's only talking shit because he's only jealous of you."

She sniffs out and looks up at me with red bloodshot eyes.

"What's he got to be jealous of?"

"I don't know," I scoff. "Maybe the fact that you're smoking hot and you have no interest in him." I say, messing up her hair. "So fuck Mich. You shouldn't care what he thinks, because I know and you know that you're an incredible actress."

Amanda smiles, then without warning, she pulls my hoodie tightly towards her and presses her lips against mine as her free hand goes to the back of my head.

I don't have time to react as she turns me around and pushes me against my trailer,and I kiss her back, confused, speechless,and lost in the moment as I bring her closer to me, ignoring a part of my brain, screaming at me to stop.

Her soft lips move in perfect rhythm to mine as she moans out softly into my mouth, the sound of her moan instantly turns me on because of how much I actually didn't dislike kissing her.

What am I doing? I think, as I press my lips harder against hers and rub my erection against her, making her moan out louder, making me remove my lips from hers and replace them with my hand, making her laugh into my palm.

We're both panting hard as we stare at each other, both of us not knowing what the hell just happened as we listen to see if anyone heard us.

When we hear nothing, I move my hand and step away from her, letting the reality of what the hell just happened kick in.

Fuck, Evan. What the hell did you just do?

"Do you want to come with me, back to my place?" she asks, making me turn around and stare at her completely bewildered and speechless.

Thinking of the sofa that I slept on all weekend at Robbie's makes me seriously take want to take her offer up, that and the way she's looking at me, with feelings so real and pure.

"Sorry," I close my eyes tightly and rub my face, feeling like the worst person ever as I snap out of it and back to my senses. "I can't..."

Because I still...

"I'm sorry Amanda. I shouldn't have even kissed you."

I take one last look at Amanda, trying to catch her breath and looking at me with that sad beautiful face... then I walk away, like a coward, who just made a huge fucking mistake.

[queenmercurys]

So, I usually refrain from expressing too many “problematic” opinions on this platform mainly because I don’t wanna deal with anon hate. I’ve done so in the past and it’s never been fun. But since I’ve been talking my friends’ ears off about Disney recently, I thought I would give it a go here. Yes, in the safety of the “read more”-button, because overall, my opinion doesn’t matter and I don’t wanna force it on anyone.

Let’s cut to the chase. I kind of hate Disney. Don’t get me wrong, I watch Disney films and I occasionally reblog some Disney stuff. I think some of their earlier things, from The Hunchback of Notre Dame to Atlantis, are truly enjoyable films. But I’ve never been into the whole Marvel phenomenon. I don’t care about superhero movies, and the way Marvel is insistent upon franchising everything and essentially making every film a cliffhanger for another cliffhanger film, just makes the whole sub-genre less appealing to me. I’m not exactly an action film fan as it is, and when it’s done in such a chaotic way as the Marvel films tend to be, I’m even less convinced. I’m not saying every Marvel film has to be a John Wick in the quality of action, but... one of them could be, no? As for Star Wars, well, it is my personal opinion that Disney has thoroughly ruined the franchise, to the point that I actually prefer the prequels. Maybe they were messy, badly acted and boring, but at least they felt like films - rather than products made for a cash grab. 

As for their other products, well, I like Tangled. Moana is passable. Frozen is fine (but only fine). But none of these animated films have touched me in ways that, for example, The Swan Princess, The Prince of Egypt and Quest for Camelot have. Ever since I was a child, I’ve preferred non-Disney animated films without even realizing it. Maybe it’s because to me, the non-Disney films just tackle more complicated, fascinating stories that rely less on the chance to make merchandise and more on the opportunity to make good content. I have often heard the term of something being “too Disney”. Which, basically, kinda means that a film is just too family-friendly when it really doesn’t have to be. And that is probably something missing from the non-Disney examples I just gave. Admittedly, all of these films are from the 90′s, and I’m sure Dreamworks and co. have now fallen into the same cash-grab trap that Disney is currently sitting in. But nevertheless, I still consider most non-Disney animated films to be superior to their Disney counterparts. Part of it is definitely my annoying habit of disliking something that is too popular simply because it is popular - but I don’t think that’s the whole story. And my dislike of Disney has only grown over the years, to the point that I’m considering boycotting the company entirely. And here’s a few of the biggest reasons why:

Disney+. Yes, every company has the right to try to make money, and they should. But I think Disney+ will only mean the death of other streaming services, and eventually, the death of diversity and creative freedom in the film and TV industry. I prefer Netflix over anything Disney has ever spat out, and while I recognize its flaws, I hope that it will not get overshadowed by Disney+. But who are we kidding? It will. Especially in America, Disney is this sacred thing that nothing can defeat. Disney’s mediocre films (such as Frozen and Marvel movies) are praised as gifts from God, and everything else is either compared to Disney products, or discarded because of Disney. From everything I have read and watched, Disney+ is going to be a real threat to all of its contemporaries. It’s going to be cheaper than Netflix and others, and it’s going to have the products the masses adore (again, namely Marvel). Netflix will lose customers, and Disney+ will gain them. This will most likely make it difficult for Netflix to make new original content, and will most likely also affect movie theatres. Because if Disney+ continues their trend of releasing films on the platform rather than in theatres, well, what choice do Disney fans have but to join the service? And in the end, we’ll be left with nothing but films and shows that are so lifeless, or old classics we know from beginning to end. And neither one of these options encourage anything new. 

This brings me to my second point, which is the lack of creativity and new ideas. You only have to look as far as the Disney liveaction remakes to see that they don’t care if they give you new, quality entertainment. All they care about is getting your money. And again, I am also at fault here. I liked Cinderella just fine. I loved the new Aladdin. I paid to go see those films. I gave Disney my money and thus, encouraged them to make new liveaction remakes. So, I can’t really criticize much when I’m also the offending party here. But still. Remaking every single classic Disney film? That is just exploiting nostalgia to the point that it’s becoming absurd. And all this does is stop Disney from working on new, interesting films that don’t exist in an already established franchise, or aren’t direct remakes. It’s not like Disney doesn’t have the money to take risks. It just refuses to, because why take risks when you can make easy money? And make no mistake. Aladdin 2019 was easy money. Frozen 2 was easy money. And however nice these products are, it does show in the end result. The stories are recycled, and feel kind of lifeless. The fact that people are comparing The Rise of Skywalker to Avengers Endgame only proves that Disney is not only recycling its’ own ideas, but that it’s stripping the directors and writers involved of their creative freedom. I’ve read stuff about how much JJ Abrams had to change in The Rise of Skywalker to accommodate Disney, and it’s actually pretty scary. What the hell is even the point of trying to tell original stories if Mickey Mouse is just gonna come and tell you to rewrite everything you’ve worked on? Disney is perhaps the most obnoxious and money-hungry company I have ever heard of in my life, and that’s saying a lot when there’s companies like Amazon and Apple around.

My third and final point is the fact that Disney owns, or is on its’ way to owning, everything. Absolutely everything. Star Wars. 20th Century Fox. You name it. Almost everything in the film industry at this point is Disney. And that sucks. It sucks so much. I can’t put it any other way. It terrifies me that Disney is in charge of so much of the content we are given. Because, let’s face it. Disney is not the most risk-taking company (at least not anymore), and certainly not the most diversity-encouraging one. People of color, LGBTQ+ characters, you name it - all of the representation in film and TV will most certainly lessen even more once Disney has its’ claws in everything. Disney only represents minorities when it serves them, and when they know they’ll get money off of it. Like that lesbian kiss at the end of Rise of Skywalker? I didn’t even fucking spot it when I watched the film! That is not representation. Having a token black character (who is completely wasted in the case of Finn in Star Wars) is not enough representation. Disney is a coward, and has been for a long time. All Disney cares about is profit, and that’s it. That’s 100000% it. And I’m not saying that other companies are much better. Of course Netflix wants your money. Of course HBO wants you to hand over your credit card info. But at least the content we receive from those companies varies. Not everything Netflix produces is another Stranger Things. HBO has done things that vary from Game of Thrones. But Disney (in recent years)? Remakes. Sequels. Rebooting a known franchise. It’s all been done before. And I’m scared that, say, ten years from now, every single action film will have the protagonist say a variation of “I am Iron Man” before doing their own variation of snapping their fingers. And, in my very non-expert, very non-educated opinion, that would suck.

By the way, it goes without saying, but all of this is just MY opinion. If you love Disney+, if you love Marvel, that’s amazing. I am so happy for you. This is a really good time for you. I’m nothing but a pretentious dick who is complaining about what is essentially just harmless fun. Just wanted to make that clear. 

[lonelyasawhisper]

Interview with Kaz Utsunomiya (2018)

Scans by 亚基拉鱼, translated by 走路帶風的Mia to Chinese and then by me to English.

Kaz Utsunomiya has the closest relationship with Queen in Japan. Having gotten acquainted with the band when he was the London correspondent of Music Life (ML) magazine, he subsequently became close friends with the band and has since maintained contact both publicly and privately. It is his old friend, DJ/music critic Imaizumi "Snoopy" Keihimeko, who is exploring these secrets of Utsunomiya. She dedicated her youth to Queen, and it’s because of this band that she pursued her current career, making her a representative of Queen fans.

Interview and writing: Imaizumi Keihimeko

In 1986, I went to London's Wembley Stadium to watch Queen's final tour - The Magic Tour, after which Mr. Kaz Utsunomiya took me to their private party. The adrenaline from the concert alone made me so excited that I couldn't sleep. As for the party, I couldn't believe that I was going to the unimaginably extravagant world of Queen. Richard Branson's restaurant at Kensington Roof Gardens was reserved for the party, and a slew of well-dressed celebs were already there. I remember the band members coming in late. Next to Freddie was Elton John, who soon began to play the piano, and members of Duran Duran were present as well. Everyone was chatting to each other, but I was staring at Freddie. I was so terrified to be near him. Being a silent wall was the better option.

And Mr. Kaz was still the usual Mr. Kaz, he is able to chat with ease. This state he’s in won’t ever change, no matter if he is drinking at a party, drinking at home, or at an interview. He hasn't changed a bit since the first time I saw him in 1979. This is the secret of his foothold in the overseas music industry, it is a kind of charisma. I hope to become the female version of Kaz one day. I am conducting this interview with my gratitude to my elder Kaz Utsunomiya over the years and the unchanging spirit of a fangirl.

As the man who has the closest ties to Queen in Japan, what does Mr. Kaz think of the movie "Bohemian Rhapsody"?

Kaz: No expectations at all at first. It is Dexter Fletcher, whom I already know, who started the project. But there was a falling out due to a quarrel, and another director was found. But in the end, Dexter went back. His wife is a Lithuanian actress, who is also renowned for making folk costumes. When I went to Lithuania, I happened to meet Dexter and he said: "I wanted to do it, but our opinions clashed, so I was fired. The band is very serious about the project. Everyone is also very cooperative. We could have made something good. It’s a pity." He is a very good director, and I also feel that it’s a pity. Dexter still went back in the end. Elton John's "Rocketman" was just in its preparation period. After filming, he went back and finished it. Although it was only a trailer, it was quite a surprise.

Why did Dexter quit his job?

Kaz: It's not that he’s at odds with the band. This movie is mainly about the band's story, but also about Freddie and to portray the character of Freddie. The members of Queen must know their own people. In Dexter’s view of Freddie as an outsider, his goal was to respect history and aim for accuracy, but the band did not want to make a documentary, and this probably caused a disagreement.

I’m once again going to ask, how did Mr. Kaz and Queen meet?

Kaz: We were not friends at first. I only learned later that we went to the same university. We first met at ML interviews. They were very kind to me at the time, and Roger and I would meet frequently after that.

What was your impression of their debut?

Kaz: Although I generally believe that Queen is a band championed by Japanese fans, in fact, they had already gained considerable attention before coming to Japan, and also had hits. At that time, their US tour with Mott The Hoople as their opening act was canceled due to Brian's illness, creating a bad first impression. NME and Melody Maker criticized them as outdated glam rock, unlike Deep Purple. Subsequently, as soon as they went to Japan, many fans greeted them at Haneda Airport. They received a warm welcome from everyone and fell in love with Japan, which became their home from home.

They must have been upset by the negative reviews in the UK. I imagine coming to Japan was great progress for them.

Kaz: I think all four people in this band have an excellent sense of balance. All four of them can write songs, and each member’s songwriting corresponds to respective popular trends. All members can sing and write. Everyone has hits. They are very democratic.

Any anecdotes when you accompanied them on their Japanese tour?

Kaz: I first came to Japan as a staff member of Watanabe Music Publishing House, and then took them on on the advice of Jim Beach (manager). For a while, they always went to LEXINGTON QUEEN (a famous disco) in Roppongi, where the band was surrounded by all kinds of artists, and it didn't feel like they were in Japan at all. Gary Numan has a pilot's license, and if Queen is in Japan, he would fly over by himself for a week. JAPAN also came to Japan at the same time, and consequently, LEXINGTON was very lively.

Have the four of them ever had any heated arguments?

Kaz: None on tour. Often in the studio. I forgot which album it was. I went to Ridge Farm’s recording studio. As soon as I entered the restaurant, I heard them arguing loudly. Of course it was about the music. The discussion was sparked by their desire to make good music.

According to Rami (Malek) who played Freddie in the movie, Brian said that Freddie is the mediator in the band. Mr. Kaz, do you agree?

Kaz: Snoopy, you should know. You also interviewed Freddie.

He was shy, and although he was the lead singer, he cared deeply about others. Whenever he came to Japan, he always bought gifts to express his gratitude to people who took care of him, like Mr. Itami (bodyguard). Just as Charlie Watts united the Rolling Stones on principle, so did Freddie. Before the show, the four of them would always gather round in Freddie's suite before setting off. Although he doesn't care to manage trivial and logistical things, he pays attention to things related to spirits and morale.

Has Mr. Kaz ever seen John after his retirement?

Kaz: About twice. When Michael Jackson died, John suddenly messaged me on Facebook: "Are you Kaz?" At first he was very cautious, and said that “if you are the Kaz I know, then you should know my address and phone number” (laughs). When he was sure it was me, he sent me a photo of Michael and Freddie. It was taken during Queen's US tour, when everyone went to the house where Michael lived with his father in Encino. Freddie was in contact with Michael at that time. They showed him "Another One Bites The Dust" and Michael predicted that it would be a hit if it was released. I guess they originally wanted Michael to sing it.

Is John not ever coming back to the music business?

Kaz: It seems that there is no desire to stay on his part anymore. It doesn't mean that he does not have any yearning for or nostalgic attachment to Queen. I think after Freddie passed away, he just decided not to perform anymore. He still lives in his old home, and on Sundays he still seems to go to the nearby news stand to buy The Sunday Times (laughs). He now has less hair and gained a little more weight, but still very healthy. The doctor who delivered my son is also his doctor, and every now and then, I would hear from the doctor that John made some visits.

Is it true that Roger chose the English name for Mr. Kaz's son, Yusei-kun?

Kaz: Yes, it's Rufus. Roger's second son is also called Rufus. It seems to be named after the black musician he likes. The first king of Wales was also called Rufus.

It’s only because of you that I met the band!

Kaz: You've also met Roger's eldest son, Felix. I took him to Radio Nippon just to see the Snoopy show. But I rarely go to the radio station’s broadcast studio.

I appreciate it!

Kaz: The manager also made Snoopy cry, I forgot why. But I think you were nervous. (I remember it clearly! I was careful about the next question.)

Tell me about Freddie, how was Mr. Kaz when Freddie died?

Kaz: I happened to see Jim Beach at the famous MATSUHISA restaurant in Los Angeles at the time, and he told me "Freddie’s going to announce that he has AIDS tomorrow". I thought that was the case. I said that we would meet again very soon. But when I got home, I received a message from Snoopy on the answering machine: "Freddie has passed away". I rushed to call Jim, he was speechless......

I received the news of Montserrat Cabelle’s death today.

Kaz: Really? Today’s a special day. I have a good relationship with Roger and John. We often went out for drinks, but I have never been with Freddie. He said that I'm such a gentle person that he shouldn't take me to Shinjuku II Street or places like that, but he still took me there occasionally. He was such a caring person. When did this happen? It should be the tour after Live Aid. In Munich, he called me to his room. He said: "Kaz, you have a good relationship with Roger and John, so I’m not going to worry about it anymore". From then on, he would call me for a drink at his place every now and then.

What did you all drink? (The fangirl asks)

Kaz: Champagne! Minako Honda also came to the show in Frankfurt, because Brian is her producer. This is Brian's job. Later, when recording in London, Freddie suddenly showed up and came to see the live show, because it was Brian's production. It’s a courtesy visit, he was polite and courteous like that.

Mr. Kaz helped write the lyrics in La Japonaise from the album with Montserrat, right?

Kaz: When he was writing the lyrics, he asked me whether I could go to the studio to come up with some ideas for the Japanese lyrics. I was working at Virgin (Records) at the time, and they soon started working at the SARM studio in Notting Hill next door. In retrospect, Freddie's face had already started to show jaundice. Prior to this, Freddie had just bought a new home in Earl's Court. He wanted to build a Japanese style garden and asked me to help. I quickly called several Japanese restaurants and finally got in touch with a landscaper in Manchester. Freddie wanted to build a carp pond and a gazebo, demolish the walls and bought some stones. The horticulturalist didn't know Freddie at all. Seems like he lived under a rock, but that's good in a way.

Mr. Kaz, what kind of person do you think Brian is?

Kaz: He is a scholarly person, very meticulous. Since the formation of Queen, maybe since he had the sense to, he probably has already started a diary. What did he do on this day in over 20 years ago? One can look for all of it in his diary. Moving into the digital age, he might even have made an electronic version. I think his diary is very good. Brian and Jeff Beck are both perfectionists who hate cutting corners, recklessness and skimping soundchecks. But both of them do things slowly and are too cautious, and it takes them twice as long to just get out of the hotel room.

After Freddie's death, Queen's songs have been covered by all kinds of singers. Which musician do you think performed best, Mr. Kaz?

Kaz: Definitely Adam Lambert. Maybe if Freddie had known Adam, he would like and approve of him very much. Adam also respects Freddie very much when he performs. For example, in certain parts of the performance which simply cannot be without Freddie, recordings of Freddie will be played as a tribute to pay respect. I think Adam is doing the best job.

What do Brian and Roger think. Do they think Queen is still active?

Kaz: At the very least in the form of Queen+, yes. They feel that Queen is to be treated with heart and sincerity in the name of Queen. With so many iconic hits and the ever-selling greatest albums, Bohemian Rhapsody is the most memorable song in the hearts of Brits. From this perspective, it is great to have a suitable lead singer to carry on the legacy of good music. Adam is very impressive, and Queen's two members also respect him very much.

Mr. Kaz, what does Queen mean to you?

Kaz: Without Queen and Clash, I wouldn't be who I am today. To be able to work in the British and American music industry for such a long time, I am extremely grateful to them.

Thank you very much.

Please do not hesitate to correct my translation if you see any discrepancy between this and the original Japanese transcript!

[burnedbyshoto]

good little omega

— He was an alpha, you were an omega. Can I make it anymore obvious? He was a crime boss and you were a movie star. What more can I say? Oh, he wanted you, really wanted you, but you swore you would never, ever need an alpha.

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pairing: alpha!shigaraki tomura x omega fem!reader

warnings: 18+, smut, abo/omegaverse, chad alpha!shiggy, virgin celeb!reader, kidnapping, drugging, sex slave auction, biting/marking, belly bulge, knotting, sex toys, heat, implied murder (lol rip shigsters last omegas), mind break, breeding, degradation, finger fucking, fucking in front of a crowd, modern world!au

word count: 6,174

a/n: this goes out to my shiggy stans. I never understood you until recently and now I blush like a schoolgirl when I see him. mondays are so busy, are they not? ive been home for 6 hours today wtf????

kinktober day 12 main kink: abo/omegaverse | kinktober masterlist

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You sat before the mirror, your eyes intently staring at your reflection. The people around you running around, chaotically bringing brushes and pencils to your face, the smell of chemicals in the air, tickling your overly sensitive nose. 

“Are we ready?! Is Y/n ready?! I don’t think she’s ready?! We need to be out of here in five minutes, people, let’s hurry it up!”

Breaking your gaze from your reflection onto your agent in the background, you sighed softly at the growing sour and distressed omega pheromones. Oh, you realized suddenly, your nose unable to keep from scrunching at the mildewy detergent scent, they were really stressed out.

Today was the night of the biggest award show one could attend as a movie star celebrity in Japan. The Motion Picture Awards gave only the most prestigious and prodigious actors and actresses their due. A night of fashion, alcohol, and nervous pheromone pumping alphas and betas in a single room to reveal who was the best this year. Working in an industry such as your own, you had become quite the living legend already at the mere age of twenty-two.

As an omega, you grew up in a society that banned you from enlisting or attempting to join the ranks of the best in just about every field of focus or study. So that even included the area of acting. Casting Directors had always said the same thing each and every time you were forced to present your secondary gender to them all when being called back for auditions.

‘Omegas can’t be movie stars, your heats are too often and too long, they cause rifts in filming schedules this project cannot afford.’

‘We have too many prime alphas on set. Our film's projected main character is an alpha, we wouldn’t want to be caught up in a lawsuit should she find you to be too… fertile.’

‘Omegas can only be good, suitable nurtures and well, mothers. This movie just seems a bit too intense for a little omega like you!’

Omegas can’t do this, omegas can’t do that. Alphas, the pride of society, couldn’t be made to hold themselves back to your alluring scent and occasional heats. Betas, the majority of the population, didn’t feel a challenge when working alongside omegas. Omegas? Well, if there were any that actually existed within the film industry, they were for sure never heard from, or seen of.

At the age of eighteen, you had nearly given up on your long aspiring desire to become the first omega actor or actress to ever grace the scene. But just as you were ready to tell your agent that you were tired of all of the same, repetitive bullshit, a gentle alpha had approached you with an exciting role in mind for you.

Movies and cinematic films had always showcased omegas as sweet, nurturing individuals. For the most part, you agreed that that’s how you omegas were. You enjoyed hugging your close friends, scenting them softly as means of a small pack you had created as none of you were mated this young, yet didn’t ever wish to be bothered by self-righteous alphas or betas. Through many, many biology courses revolving around your secondary gender, you knew that the hormones that made you an omega also affected the brain to accept and view things in a… softer light. But unlike what they taught in school, and unlike what the alphas in society knew about omegas as they could never honestly watch an omega in heat while alone, was that omegas weren’t always the most nurturing or kind.

The week before your heat, the week of, and the week following your heat, you were always irritable, angry, almost cold. You’d flash your small fangs at anyone who dared to approach you with a scent you hated, your heat room never once escaping with everything torn to shreds, and you definitely did not wish to seek any fiber of soft love.

So when the alpha male sat in front of you, a single fang poking out of his lip as he exposed his neck in a motion of vulnerability and conceding to you — the omega — you knew he was serious.

He explained to you his plan on creating a more realistic movie surrounding the brutal truths of what being a single omega was like. Films had, after all, had always depicted omegas as being mated the moment they presented and going as far as saying that there were others means to be coupled to other alphas without actually being marked. It was atrociously wrong of the omega lifestyle, and it always made your stomach curl to see that it was an alpha or a beta actor putting on the role.

But he wanted to focus on the realities. The anger, sadness, and horrors you could face as a single, unmated omega. The director raved that you were the face for that movie and had a soul that made him come seek you out. And without so much as consultation from your agent, you agreed on the spot.

The title of the film had been an ironic one. Good Little Omega was what it was called in the end.

All in all, the movie had done poorly in the eyes of the critics. Many individuals — namely alphas and betas — claimed that the depiction of omegas within the film had been horribly wrong. Omegas were never sad, never homeless, never abandoned by society! That’s what they had all cried the moment the trailer flashed with bright letters:

AND INTRODUCING: Y/L/N Y/N (Ω)

Still, the movie made billions as many went to watch it because they ‘needed to see how horrible the movie was.’ They wanted proof that omegas weren’t cut as movie stars because how could someone who was out of commission for a week every two months be proactive on set. But all they got was a cinematic masterpiece.

You had taken a claim in the industry, one while small, that hadn’t hurt that much because you were much more focused on the fact that you now were a household name. Well, that is until you were nominated for the awards ceremony you were currently about to attend, only that it was the one from four years ago.

You were the first omega actress and now the first omega nominee. You hadn’t won, but that had solidified the step you had in the door. After that, the interests to hire you in omega roles came pouring through the door.

But you were brought back to reality when the setting spray splashed against your face, your eyes fluttering when they covered your scent glands with the flesh-colored band-aids they got for you. Alphas could never complain about you being a distraction if you smelled the same as betas. 

Rising to your feet, you smiled graciously to your makeup and styling team, thanking them profusely as your agent placed her hand at the small of your back and began pushing you towards the exit.

“Goodluck!”

“Thank you!”

.

..

.

Shigaraki glared down the table of averted eyes, and his hands brought up under his chin twitched at his annoyance.

“Are you going to say anything, or are we going to remain silent?” he asked, his voice quiet yet heavy in all of their ears as they flinched. “Don’t think you’re going to get away without giving me an answer.”

The sour smell of fearful alphas should have corroded Shigaraki’s nose. It should have done something to unsettle the way that the young head sat on his black leather seat. But as a matter of fact, the young alpha had to resist the way he wanted to bare his teeth in a bloodied smile, his red eyes slit in his cruel lust for fear.

“O-Of course not, a-alpha!” croaked one of the smaller alphas down the table. Shigaraki snapped his eyes towards the yellow-haired croony, his neck exposed for the alpha, eyes refusing to look at his leader. “I-It’s just that, um, I — I mean, we don't know w-what happened to your mate!”

“I thought I gave clear and distinct instructions that you were supposed to have found them by this meeting,” Shigaraki stated, his voice somehow growing colder, meaner yet never once changing as his hands dropped from his chin to rest on the arms of his chair. He tilted his head, watching the pathetic alphas quiver like some scared, stupid omega. “Useless. Get out of here before I change my mind on killing you all where you sit.”

The crowd of alphas left quicker than Shigaraki could blink, leaving behind the reeking smell of scared alpha pheromones. 

“Tomura-kun, you killed your mate,” came the singsong giggle from behind him, and Shigaraki didn’t bother turning around, his nose and ears sharp enough to pick up exactly it was behind him. 

“They’re all a bunch of pissy lackeys,” Shigaraki simply stated, his eyes rolling as he slowly fell to the back of his chair, red eyes meeting golden ones that shone with mirth and joy. “What do you want, Toga?”

Toga leaned against the leather armrest, uncaring that Shigaraki hated his personal space invaded. The young female was an alpha, much like most of the people within this gang group, but unlike the others, she had a distinct, almost terrifying way to change the way she smelled. She could smell like anyone or any secondary gender. She often preferred to smell like an omega too. 

“We have a guest visiting us today!” Toga chirped, her fingers clasping together. “I wanted to introduce him!”

“Bring Giran in,” Shigaraki snapped, his eyes narrowing with no real malice for the alpha next to him who simply pouted at the surprise — not a surprise — being ruined. Giran reeked of cigarettes and cheap body sprays that, when wafted with his distinct omega pheromones, made Shigaraki want to throw up. “Hurry up.”

“UGH!”

Shigaraki’s mouth was set in a firm line, his eyes watching as one of his most trusted allies walked to the table, and taking a seat in the abandoned chairs as Toga purred in happiness, sitting on the armchair of Giran’s chair, arms enveloping him. 

“Shigaraki, how are you doing?” Giran smiled, the cigarette that seemed to take a permanent residence in his teeth moving with his words. “I came bearing some great news.”

“What do you have for me?” Shigaraki simply states, his eyes focusing on the letter that is unpocketed from Giran’s pockets and placed onto the table. “Don’t tell me you’re trying to sell me your omega niece again.”

Giran chuckled, looking at Toga, who was smirking softly, “I guess he still hates that joke, huh?”

“Absolutely livid!” Toga laughed.

Shigaraki growled, his mind and his inner alpha snarling at the lack of respect to the command of his question. He outranked them, outpowered them; they needed to respect his orders. 

Giran took a deep inhale of his cigarette, sliding the card over to Shigaraki, his eyes averted, but his stance still firm. “I know you go through omegas faster than a teenage boy goes through a pack of tissues, but I think this can answer the pleas you have at night.”

Observing the card in his hand, Shigaraki scowls, unsure of how to feel about the print on the invitation. 

“Say the word, and I’ll get you a seat,” Giran whispers, like a sinister god begging a mere mortal to sign over their life for something completely worthless. But Shigaraki knows his worth, and more importantly, he knows in this game he outranks Giran, who would never betray him. In the slightest. He huffs, his back hunched, and his eyes looking with subdued excitement. 

“Who else is showing up?”

Giran knows the seat will be wanted that instant.

“No one who could hold a candle to you, alpha.”

“Don’t make me regret this.”

“Of course not, my liege.”

.

..

.

The award sitting in your hand feels almost fake as if the entire night was nothing more than a heat-driven fever dream. You had won, had actually won the most significant award of the night that an actress could win!

“Oh my gods, okay, okay,” your agent muttered beside you. Her eyes glued to the shiny gold statue between your legs. “Well, I know your heat starts tomorrow, and I’ll leave you alone for a week. But I swear, y/n, as soon as your mind isn’t a full-blown lusty heat brained bimbo, we’ll reconvene, and we will make sure you are nothing but the greatest!”

“Yeah,” you breathlessly state, eyes transfixed on the prize that felt like it could melt away any second right now. “That sounds wonderful.”

The car you were in pulled up to your front door, and you felt meek excited the car in nothing but a silk robe and slippers. The dress you had worn that night had already been put back into a plastic bag to be returned to the stylist who had offered to style you for the night. You waved with an almost transfixed look in your eyes as you closed your front door behind you, your heart hammering as adrenaline still coursed through your veins as if you had just been declared the victor of the category yet again.

Placing the trophy onto the table, you sighed in a wondrous, dreamy way.

You had done it.

You had won.

Fuck all those directors who had ever said anything different.

Still deep in your thoughts, you almost missed the knock on your door, and you figured that you must have left something in the car. Walking back over to the front door, your nose curled at the lack of scent, was it a beta?

Opening the door, you don’t remember seeing faces or even a scent of a pheromone. A single cloth wrapped over your head, and before you could send out your painful, fearful moments-from-heat omega pheromones, you were knocked out.

Cold and lifeless, you sunk against their arms, bile rising up to your throat as you know exactly what was going on. You were being kidnapped. 

No… please not… not after all of this had happened.

.

..

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You wake up to the sound of moving feet, sneering laughter, the feeling of coarse, hot, hands on your ass and wet, simmering tongues on your lubricated cunt. The sense is vivid. You can feel the very littlest touch on your body, the layer of scented pheromones on your glands, and slick from alphas — you know it's alphas imprinting themselves on you as a mark of a claim.

You knew about this from high school; it was an extremely outdated and frowned upon version of mating and claiming as it simply turned away any sort of pursuer who wasn’t the thick pheromone individual. You also knew it was frowned upon because if multiple individuals sought mateship with the typical omega individual, it would result in a massive, unsolvable death match. But these alphas, even with layering their scent on you so thick you thought you were turning crazy, didn’t attack. No, they took languid stripes of your fresh, intoxicating slick and growled to you, maybe, how that was how slick was supposed to be. 

You wanted to move, to kick the stupid, demeaning alphas in the snout before running away, but in a twist of horrible realization, you soon figured out that despite your alert mind, you couldn’t move your body. Couldn’t shift it even the smallest of bits. 

“I hope all you wonderful clients have been able to taste and smell your potential mates out here!” A loud, commanding introduction voice echoed from somewhere where you couldn’t see, his voice vibrating into the straps of your legs, but you couldn’t make a sound or even open your eyes. “As you know, we have such an arrangement for you all, the best of the best, really! We don’t wish to rush, but as always, all of these events are incredibly time-sensitive, so if you would, please alphas, please come and sit down, and we’ll begin bidding on our first of seven beautiful, fertile omegas tonight!” 

The words sounded foreign in your ears yet at the same time, something so familiar because this was something you omegas were always warned about. This had to be some sort of omega mate auction, and by the stench of alphas who smelled like they owned millions and killed millions, you were in no doubt somehow caught up in one of the worst ones imagined. 

Two long, completely hardened fingers suddenly entered your cunt, and as if for a single millisecond, your mind and your body were able to work in tangent, your hips bucked at the sweet feelings. Oh, your eyes tried to flutter, enjoying the way the two fingers circled the walls of your long lonely cunt.

“Please, alpha, please refrain from touching the merchandise for now, please join us so that we may begin!”

The two fingers buried within your cunt as if it was their right, slowly withdrew out of your pulsing walls, and you heard the sound of sneakers against the hardwood floor and felt relaxed and sickened at how you sort of liked it.

Heat brain, you reminded yourself. Just your stupid, horny heat brain.

You were a celebrity, you mantra, a dignified star who didn’t need a beta or an alpha unless you saw it fit. Right now, as you had repeated many times to the countless amounts of reporters who had asked, you had no interest in someone to share your heat with.

“Alright, and to start off our night in a rolling go! Please, everyone put your hands together for the fertile and beautiful thirteenth in-line the Princess of Cabodia: Dayanara!”

This auction was insane, all six omegas before you all sold from a price that ranged from 198 hundred million to the one right before you who sold for one billion dollars. You were a prideful omega, and you saw worth to your abilities, smell, and looks, but were you even worth anywhere in that range?

The entire time you had been set up in who knows what, the small, overwhelming pound of your heat sinking into the depths and pores of your body was becoming heavy. You couldn’t move a single muscle still, your body still refusing to respond to the call of your body, but the seep of your slick running down the innards of your thighs, undoubtedly beginning to pool on the ground, must be embarrassing of you. 

Suddenly someone spread the skin below your ass out, and you couldn’t react as something sharp and prick stabbed into your flesh. You howled in the surprising pain, and you were fast to find that whatever they had injected you with had allowed systematic movement within your body. Your eyes fluttered open as two, impossibly huge alphas grabbed you by your forearm and hoisted you to your feet. 

Your neck was far too weak to carry the weight of your head, so your eyes were transfixed on the white silk of the slutty dress they dressed you in. It showed off your cleavage with no regret, and by the feel and look of it, it barely passed the bottom of your ass. Your vision swam, the alphas all over the room distorted and melting within one another as you stepped onto a stage, the spotlight on you feeling deliriously hot and melting your skin.

Your hormones, already going crazy with your heat, seemed to intensify at the small of so many capable, potent, possessive alpha pheromones that suffocated the room. Handcuffs slapped onto your wrists, and you moaned pathetically at the sting of cold metal on your skin, and you obediently followed the command of one alpha to go on your knees. 

A nail slammed between the metal links of the handcuffs, practically stapling you to the wooden floor, and you whimpered at the feeling of a stuffed pillow mount being placed beneath your lower stomach. You were in a forced and easily accessible mating position with your slick and cunt exposed for all the alphas to re-smell and see. 

Moaning, you shifted against the mount, your body not able to have the full movement you needed to ward off that building, insufferable heat in your core, but nothing you could do seemed to satisfy it.

“And for our biggest prize of the night, we have the one, the only, the beautiful sensation Y/l/n Y/n!” the auctioneer roared. His voice echoing in your ear as he walked over to you, exposing your dripping cunt to the crowd of alphas who had all gotten a sweet taste of your essence already. His hand came down to slap your ass with a chuckle. “Where do we start the bidding on this one, alphas? She needs no introduction, and none of you better be pussies because we know this bitch of an omega won’t take any tiny cocks as her alpha! She needs to be broken in, fucked to submission. No one likes a trailblazer… someone needs to remind of what fucking trail she’s supposed to be on. Besides, the bitch is in fucking heat, and if you don’t claim her, I just might do it myself!”

“75 million!” someone started the bidding.

You stiffened.

“75 to the man in the back!”

“90 million!” someone challenged.

“We’re up to 90!”

“125 million!”

“Do I hear another offer?”

“250 million!”

“250 million!”

The number climbed and climbed, the same voices coming to challenge each other until finally, they rounded out to a quantity that sounded bizarre even to you. 

“950 million!”

If it had been possible for your knees to give out, you would have been collapsed onto the floor, the pool of slick that continued to lubricate your cunt without a doubt drowning you as you craved the need to be fucked by someone with undoubted alpha pheromones and cock in this room. 

“950 million?” the auctioneer repeated, his voice for sure carrying a shark-like grin. “Going once, going twice—”

“Five billion.”

The gasp in the crowd was undeniable, and the omega in you crooned, knowing that this alpha valued you and your omega to be the price of five billion US dollars. 

“Fuck!” screamed the man who had presented the 950 million deal. 

“Wowee, five billion dollars, everyone! Anyone think they can beat that?! Going once! Going twice!” The crowd remained in silence, and you shook against your restraint, the heat emitting from your cunt almost demanding to be seen and fucked through this heat week. “SOLD! The virgin celebrity, Y/l/n Y/n sold to our own Shigaraki Tomura!”

The cheers of amaze weren’t nearly as loud as the smell of reeking petty alpha.

“Come and pay up, alpha, and then you can show us… a demonstration of how you’re going to break this omega.”

“Shut up.” Shigaraku growled, his footsteps heavy in your ear as you feel him climb up the stage, and you weakly tilted your head to look at the white-haired alpha boss hand over a simple credit card before walking over to you, his eyes unreadable as he looked you dead in the eye.

He reached out a finger that raised your chin up for him to study your face, moving and tilting your head as he pleased as a small, sinister smile pressed to his lips as he dropped your head. A sharp, uncomfortable pain fell on your chin as it crashed to the floor, and you shivered at the feeling of his calloused and rough fingers running down your exposed back.

“You’re such a small omega, still stupidly tiny. I bet you’ve never thought your first knot would come from someone like me,” Shigaraki laughed, his fingers and voice ice cold. His words were soft, spoken in a way that had your omega stupidly cooing for having secret conversations with your alpha who promised to fuck you till you were carrying a litter of pups. “I hope you realize that this is real life, that I will break you, and no hero in this world will be able to fucking save you.”

“Fuck the omega!” someone from the crowd screamed, and Shigaraki glared upwards. Still, you shivered in the thought of this alpha who spent five billion dollars to make you his claiming you, fucking your stupid heat brain into mush in front of these smaller, irrelevant alphas. 

“I’ll do what I fucking please,” Shigaraki snapped, but the fingers you remembered to have been the last ones to enter your slicked crazy walls seemed to be his. They moved deep within you, curling and spreading your tight, sopping wet cavern apart, letting your pathetic, chirping cries echo powerfully in the room as lusting, near rutting alpha pheromones filled the room. “For fucks sake, omega, your pussy’s fucking tight as shit! Don’t you have any real knotted toys?”

You couldn’t respond back, your body on the road to a complete shut down at the feeling of something other than silicone deep within your body, fingering and dragging against your pheromone soaked walls.

“Alpha, y-your fingers feel so good!” you gasp, your hips thrusting backward, enjoying the way his fingernails press onto your warm velvet walls. “So good, you make me feel so good already.”

“I’ve seen you all over the news,” Shigaraki growled low into your ear. “Talking about how you didn’t want an alpha, how you never needed to feel the tightness that a fat knot could bring you, and look at you now. I’ve barely touched you, barely begun to make you mine, and yet you’re already begging for me, omega.”

Your arms tug at the handcuffs, pathetically wanting them off. Exasperatedly seeking more friction from your newly bought alpha. You can’t think straight, can’t come up with a single response except the stupid apologetic, “I’m so sorry alpha, I didn’t know i-it would be y-you!”

“Don’t be shy on her, Shigaraki! Fuck the slutty omega already! Fucking knot and claim her in front of us, I want to hear the omega whore scream. It’s always hotter when it’s the first claim ever!”

“You better learn how to shut the fuck up, or I’ll kill you for interrupting my fucking session here,” Shigaraki seethed, his red, smoldering eyes ripping from yours and glaring at some loser alpha behind you. You couldn’t care. You only wanted what looked like the growing cock in Shigaraki’s pants; you wanted to feel the cock fill up your cunt, and his knot to lock you both in place.

You drooled at the thought, your loud, whimpering cries unable to keep from pouring out as the slick from your core seemed to pour endlessly from your pussy, demanding attention and a knot. “Breed me, fill me with your pups,” you begged fingers taking in his dirty fingers in your mouth, tongue wildly and uncontrollably flicking across his fingers in hopes it would be a sinking prayer of your promise to be good. “I want your knot, alpha, I want these stupid alphas to know you’re so much better than them~!”

Shigaraki’s once snarl fell when he looked at you, a slowly growing smirk falling on his face as his lips spread into a cruel smirk, one that had you moaning around his fingers as he pinched the pink muscle in your mouth before disappearing before you.

“I smelled your distress when I put my fingers up your sloppy little cunt right before the auction happened; I could tell even with your growing heat that you hated the feeling of my fingers up your pretty pussy. But look at you now, I haven’t even set you on my goddamn knot, haven’t stretched that tiny cunt to its max. You’re smelling better than a bitch in heat,” Shigaraki growled in your ear. His clothed chest pressing deliriously into your exposed back, the huge cock outline in his pants grinding incessantly into your wet core, undoubtedly leaving a damp patch where his cock ground into you. “You’re an actress, aren’t you, little omega? I bet you just needed this audience cheering your name to break your mind over this. How. Pathetic.”

And the pressure on your tongue is gone, the drool and saliva sticky and cold on your chin as you whimper for your alpha. You promised that it wasn’t right, it was just that you had been scared before, but your alpha was so strong, his pheromones so scary and mean, he could protect you and fill you up with so many pups you couldn’t help but to be excited now.

The smell of Shigaraki seemed to brighten, and you moaned when his hands pressed the white dress up, allowing for your naked ass to be seen by him and everyone who stayed to watch. Shigaraki squeezed your asscheeks away, chuckling at the way your small asshole clenched in your embarrassment and pain at how your hormone-driven heat demanded that he fuck you and knot you now.

“So fucking wet,” Shigaraki observed, his fingertips tracing the slick on your folds before a small pop told you that he licked you clean from his fingers. “Such sweet slick too, you really are a prime omega, little one.”

You whimpered, ass shaking for him to continue to touch you, to continue to fuck you more. 

“I don’t think you’re ready for my knot, precious omega,” Shigaraki taunted, and his words were a sealing deal in your lusting mind. Your hips knocking backward in some sort of desperation for more.

“She won’t,” commented the auctioneer.

“I will!” you scream, eyes filled with painful tears that could only be resolved with your alphas knot and claim. “I can take your knot, alpha!”

Shigaraki makes a small noise, and you choke at the feeling of something huge, nearly monstrous, shift into your cunt. You were a virgin, but even you knew that it was merely the head of his alpha thick cock, not enough for you to be satisfied, not far enough in you to breed or fuck you properly. All the moans in your throat were slightly painful, and the tears in your eyes continued to fall as you rocked your hips backward, trying to sink yourself further on his cock, wanting him deep in your womb.

You craved him.

“Ah, good, you can take more,” came the airy, almost insane driven coo of Shigaraki, the lack of humor making your cunt flutter against his thick, long cock. “Cry for your alpha, little omega.”

With that, Shigaraki slammed into you with no mercy, his cock bottoming out into you with a powerful, edging thrust. You screamed in pain, tears leaking from your eyes, and even with the pool of lubricating slick, his cock was far too big, incredibly thick that you felt your inner walls splitting in two as he fucked you as if you weren’t in delirious pain.

Drool and tears covered your arms, your painted fingers digging into the floorboards with crazy strength that you clawed scars on the floor as Shigaraki rutted deep within you.

Shigaraki commanded you with every thrust he gave, and soon the omega in you was cooing, howling for more, the pain of having your virginity ripped from right under you having become bubbling, glowing pleasure. You screamed in pleasure, Shigaraki grabbing onto your rolling hips to slam you back onto his cock, allowing for his thick cock to hit deep within you over and over again. The angle and power he possessed with every thrust were almost inhumane, nothing your lonely heat filled nights could ever dream of recreating ever. Shrill moans and pleas drowned out the annoying commentary of your onlookers, Shigaraki’s chest still flushed against your back, his hips landing heavily on your ass that was at this point raised because of the mount beneath you. 

“My alpha,” you babble, eyes unfocused, hazy, and incredibly heavy as you stared at some point on the wall, overwhelmed with the feeling of Shigaraki’s hot cock pounding in you. “My alpha, such a good alpha. His cock is making my tummy feel funny, making my pussy feel so tight. Please fill me with your children, I’ll be a good omega to you and them, I promise! I promise — I — oh myyy goddd — I promise, alpha!!!”

Shigaraki puffs up with the praise, but he continued to fuck into you roughly, mercilessly, as if you were nothing more than the breeding whore omega that he had purchased you for. The wet slaps and satisfying squelches rang in the blazing heat room, the smell of the pleasured and heat insane omega saturating deeply within his nose, and in the other's nose, the prideful smell of a satisfied alpha.

Your spongy walls clenched and spasmed against his penetrating, pounding cock, sometimes even forcibly because, by god, it was hot when his cock would twitch within your womb, especially against your cervix.

“Fuck, you’re so damn annoying,” Shigaraki snarled into your ear, his teeth biting and scraping along your neck, and you wailed when his teeth dragged over the sweet scent gland on your neck. The one and only place for mating bites to go. His hand gripped your hair, tugging your head back so that you could feel his rough facial skin rub up against yours. “If you want me to fill you with my pups, you better be the best fucking omega on this goddamn planet.”

“I can be the best! I’ll be the best!” you cried, your ass shifting backward to meet his drilling hips. 

The delirious sensation of his cock rocking against your cervix slowly begins to inflate the knot on his cock, restricting his still barbaric thrusting as he made to move faster. He wanted you to cum before he knotted entirely within you. 

The pressure in your stomach is scorching and impossibly tight, and he takes another long stripe at your scent gland. You tremble with need, your fingers tearing into the wooden floors. You can feel the knot on his cock swelling up, catching onto the opening of your cunt with every successive cunt, and you begin to cry, shake, and tremble as the knot becomes too big.

Your eyes cross, your tongue falling out of your mouth as you babble his name. Your walls clamp around his knotted cock with the ferocity of a vice, and your body jerks violently as you cum hard around his cock. The slick essence of your orgasm slipping out of the few lasting places open before Shigaraki’s knot fills you out entirely. Despite his cock unable to move, the swollenness of his knot preventing him from moving out of you, Shigaraki still shoves his weight into his hips, the inflated knot stretching your cock out so widely, your vision went white, and you came yet a second time.

A small pop was heard, and suddenly with a rush of thick, hot, and heavy white cum exploded within your womb, his teeth sink around your scent gland, marking you — mating you. He filled you, filled you, and filled you. His cum wouldn’t stop until your belly was swollen with his hot cum, and he eventually fell off of you with a shaky, shallow breath.

You still remained on the mount, your eyes unfocused, breaths mumbling to your alpha, a promise to carry out every single pup he gave you and would give you. You were his omega, his good little omega, and you would never disappoint your alpha. Not now, not ever.

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

The next week, you opened your door with a broad smile, your usual clothes replaced with a dress Shigaraki had picked for you and a frilly white apron on as your agent was standing outside of your house, eyes wide, mouth gaped at the still bleeding mate wound on your shoulder.

“Ah, how funny!” you laughed, waving your hand as you sighed dreamily, your eyes fluttering at the thought of your alpha who was on a business call right now. “I’m actually going to be quitting! My alpha and I have many plans right now, I gotta produce as many litters as I can, being an actress would never give me this sort of meaning in life!”

“B-But, you’re doing so much?! You have so much to do! You can’t give up?!”

“Oh, my love, we both know that I look much cuter with a pregnant belly! Don’t worry,” you smile, taking your agent's hand, brightly smiling at her one last time. “I’m sure all omegas will eventually find their alpha so they won’t be so depressed and angry like I was!”

Your agent doesn’t get another word in.

You slam the door in her face, your hands already resting on your belly that you knew was already growing the life of your first litter of pups. It had been known the second Shigaraki filled you up anymore.

You were a good little omega, and your alpha needed you!

[winetae]

wall to wall (m.) 01

↳ in a pornographic movie, refers to a series of sex scenes with no plot.

⇁ female reader x hoseok 

⇁ smut, porn star!au

⇁ sex work, insecurity, jealousy, slut shaming/objectification (not the sexy kind), role played scenario that includes: d/s dynamics - dom!hoseok, porn star level dirty talk, stuff that should never happen in a kitchen bc hygiene, daddy kink, impreg kink, rough sex, spanking, a lot of finger sucking, this fic is a poor attempt at social commentary

⇁ 22.5k

. . .

Temporary popularity is the biggest threat to your career right now. Without a solid core fan base you’re doomed to be forgotten. If not now, then in a month or two, and if not then, surely by the end of the year. That’s how quickly the adult film industry cycles through their actors, especially when you’re a woman. Your agent comes forward with a proposition to help put you back on the map.

↳ or, my contribution to the lights, camera, action collab : )

part 01 | part 02 | part 03

author’s note | inspired by the piece ‘slut-shaming: pornstars are humans too’ & the life after porn documentaries on netflix. thank u to jordan, eva, amy, venus, addie and lu for being a part of this collab !! *inserts a million heart emojis and a big fat NUT emoticon*

re:warnings, the slut shaming is done by others and can also be considered as internalized oppression. it’s something the reader struggles with and eventually works to overcome. this first part isn’t as smutty as the second but regardless i hope u can bear with me lol. ty, as always, for giving my writing a chance. i hope u enjoy it or at least take something from it !

wall2wall can be read as a sequel to my fic money shot. same disclaimer applies: this story does claim to accurately portray the world of adult entertainment

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SCENE 01 - YOU’VE GOT MALE. TAKE 01. ROLL A.

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Today is just one of those days you wish you had slept straight through. Maybe if you had, you wouldn’t be dying from the sheer dullness of having nothing to do.

You huff out a sigh, bored out of your goddamn mind.

Head cradled in the crook of your left palm, you use your available hand to refresh your instagram feed. Much to your disappointment, nothing new shows up. The same video of a dog chasing its own tail plays on but you pay it no heed, the novelty having worn off after the first few times.

The next half hour passes by in a similar fashion, each result proving to be as unavailing as the last. You’d think that after a while you’d give up and find a new distraction to pass the time but whether out of habit or boredom-induced insanity, you persist with your fruitless attempts.

Today really fucking blows, you think glumly, the curve of your mouth thinning into a grimace. As the adorable corgie keeps the infernal cycle going, yapping and running around incessantly, you’re struck with a terrifying thought. Maybe this is how you will die - condemned to live your life stuck in the worst sort of monotony imaginable.

What you had expected to be a “quick and easy” shoot has turned into a tedious ordeal that you don’t see ending anytime soon. And whilst on-set complications and prolongations are frequent enough that they’re almost expected, today really takes the cake. Even during your rookie days, you can’t recall running into delays of this scale.

To top it off, the weather app announces a record-breaking heat - which in itself is bad enough. As luck would have it, it gets worse. The place rented out for today’s filming lacks proper air conditioning, equipped instead with electric fans that look like they’ve been around since the 1980s.

A quick glance into the vanity mirror confirms that you look as frazzled as you feel. Because of the humidity level that weighs down the air, your hair is in a right state. You fight a grimace off your face. The straggly hair coupled with the oily sheen on your face...it’s far from your best look, to say the least.

And to think thousands of people will get to see it up close in 1080p resolution... It’s a terrifying concept.

You’re already dreading the upcoming sex scenes that you’ve yet to film. It’s always a messy affair - fluids of all kind end up literally everywhere - but the sweltering heat undoubtedly makes it ten times worse. A shudder works its way down your spine.

Frankly speaking, the mere thought of having hot and wild sex in these less than ideal working conditions kills your libido. Under the glaring studio lights, surrounded by sweaty crewmen and pressed up an equally feverish body - it’s basically the porn equivalent of a fuckin’ barbecue party.

Yeah, no thanks. You’d rather be at home, with the air conditioner at full blast, nestled in the comfy cushions of your sofa as you marathon a series of your choice on netflix. Only the promised sum of money keeps you from bolting and calling it quits altogether.

“So when are you gonna drop the new boy toy?” a voice buzzes in your ear not unlike a pesky fly.

Tempting as it is to ignore it, you peel your eyes away from your reflection just in time to catch Seokjin shoot you the most unimpressed look in his repertoire, one perfectly groomed eyebrow arched in judgment.

In the background, an old ceiling fan whirs on but does nothing to cool you off. If anything, its constant rattling only exacerbates your growing headache.

“What are you talking about?" You flick a piece of imaginary lint off your dressing robe, your tone neutral.

Seokjin’s brown eyes see right through your feigned air of indifference. Months of working by your side have made him an expert at reading your body language, be it naked or clothed. A wolfish grin adorns his face as he swoops in for the kill.

“Oh come on. You know exactly who I’m talking about. Jongmin. He’s short - comes up to right about here.” Seokjin holds a hand up to his chest to illustrate his point, deliberately shaving off a few inches off your boyfriend’s height in order to antagonize you.

You bite the inside of your cheek, careful not to spit out the retort that’s perched on the tip of your tongue. It takes a great deal of effort to unclench the muscles in your jaw but you manage to school your features into an expression of polite confusion.

Seokjin frowns, dissatisfied with your lack of response. You don’t need to be a mind reader to know that he’s currently thinking of new ways to provoke you.

When the silence stretches on and he’s yet to riposte, you allow yourself  to relax again, believing that he’s given up on being an asshole.

To your chagrin, you’re sorely mistaken. The last of your self-restraint is finally put to the test as his next words do nothing to quell your irritation.

“Jongmin.” He repeats slowly, like you need it spelled out for you. “He follows you around everywhere like a lap dog. It’d be cute if it wasn’t so, you know, pathetic.”

“His name is Jimin,” you correct for the nth time.

Instantly, you reprimand yourself for playing into his games and granting him the attention he so craves. Fulfilling his twisted desire is the last thing you hope to achieve. Staying silent would be the sensible thing to do but your brain completely bypasses the memo. The moment your mouth opens it’s impossible to quash the urge to justify yourself.

Maybe it’s your pride coming into play. Maybe it’s Seokjin’s uncanny ability to get under anyone’s skin at will. Whatever the case may be, you stammer out, on the defensive, “And he’s not my 'boy toy'. We - it’s not - we’re dating.” But the word feels like a weight on your tongue. You swallow.

The statement earns you a scoff of incredulity. “Dating? Him?”

You finally set your phone down and aim a glare his way, abandoning all pretense at being indifferent because—Jesus. Is the idea of you dating that unfathomable? He’s never been this worked up over any of your other relationships. Granted, none of them have ever lasted this long but is it really any of his business who you choose to see in your free time?

“I don’t get what your problem is. What’s so wrong with me dating?”

“Have you seen who you’re dating?”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?!”

While this isn’t the first time your agent lets a judgmental comment slip from between his pearly white teeth, it’s usually not laced with spite. Seokjin is never outright hostile, preferring sweet words of manipulation and thinly-veiled insults to shows of aggression. The attempt to get a rise out of you does not go by unnoticed. His anger, this time, feels personal.

You wrack your brain, quickly sifting through your recent memories to try and figure out why he’s chosen to be such an ass today. You’re certain that you’ve filled out all the necessary paperwork required to proceed with today’s filming, and yes, after thinking it over, you know that you went to the obligatory medical checkup last week. So there really is no reason for him to bitch at you unless—

The proverbial light bulb flickers on and it all suddenly makes sense.

You’re willing to bet a hefty sum of money that the high-paying gig you turned down two weekends ago is to blame for his abnormal crotchety behavior.

Yes, that would explain it.

Due to Seokjin's well-known propensity to hold a grudge for longer than average, the odds that he’s still hung up over the lost deal are pretty high. And as much as his disappointment and frustration are understandable from a business standpoint, you don’t appreciate being used as a verbal punching bag for him to expel all those pent-up feelings.

Seokjin hums, a knowing smirk pulling the sides of his mouth upwards. Fleetingly, and not for the first time, you find it a shame that his cockiness tarnishes his otherwise handsome face. “I give it another couple of days until you get bored. How long has this gone on for? A month? How are you not yanking out your hair from the sheer boredom of dating...that."

A muscle in your jaw ticks.

“He’s not Voldemort, you coward. Would it honestly kill you to say his name?” Seokjin’s expression begs to differ. You cut him off before he can add fuel to the fire. “And I won’t get bored. Jimin’s - he’s a perfectly nice guy. We’ve been seeing each other just fine—not that it’s any of your concern.”

“Yes, he’s nice,” Seokjin concedes easily, brushing off any attempts at putting an end to the conversation. He grins, wide and smug, like he knows you can’t refute what he’ll say next. “Perfectly nice and boring. The kind of guy you’d bring back home if your parents were straight-laced folks that wanted to marry you off to a choir boy. Seriously, how the fuck did a guy like him end up in the porn industry? He belongs in a church or, I dunno, maybe some neighborhood book club - not behind a camera filming you getting flogged by a daddy dom.”

You sniff. “Just because he tucks his shirts in doesn’t—”

“It’s not just the shirts, honey.” He leans over to pat your hand in a gesture of consolation. Used to his antics, his attempt is easily blocked by a swat of your hand.

You muster the dirtiest look you’re capable of, the kind of look that sends men to early graves, but he simply smiles in response, completely unfazed.

Any person with the minimum amount of tact would know to politely change the subject. It’s unfortunate that your agent does not belong to that pool of individuals, choosing instead to be selectively blind to overt social cues.

He continues on, unperturbed, like he has a point to prove. “Believe it or not, I know you. Sometimes, for whatever reason, perhaps a lapse in judgement but who the fuck knows, you like to venture out of your comfort zone and experiment. Like with the chickenshit gingerbread spice concoctions they come out with at Starbucks to celebrate turkey season and Christmas or the cream cheese makis they make for the white crowd who want to eat sushi but don’t like anything other than white rice and seaweed. And, trust me, while I’m all for diversity and broadening your personal experiences, don’t you think there’s a reason why you always go back to your preferred choice of an iced latte with two sugars?”

“Did you just compare Jimin to a gingerbread latte?”

Okay, so admittedly you’ve made some questionable food and beverage choices in the past, but the comparison is a fucking reach. 

“You’re absolutely right." Seokjin gives a firm nod of his head, his expression serious. "Now that you mention it, he’s definitely a vanilla soy. Bland and boring. Targeted towards the middle-aged soccer moms that think veganism is a trend, not a lifestyle. Wants to be a people-pleaser but misses the mark.”

“I didn’t know it was Share Your Unwanted Opinion Time,” you grind out from behind a strained smile. “If I had, I would have said something about your receding hairline earlier.”

It’s a low blow but the way Seokjin’s plump lips curl in displeasure makes the dig worth it. One of his hands automatically shoot up to flatten the bangs that are usually slicked back with copious amounts of gel.

Offended, he spits, “It’s not receding! There’s a difference between premature balding and a bleach job gone wrong.”

"I'm not sure people care to differentiate. Looks like a receding hairline to me." You shrug while picking at your nails. “You’re nearing that age, too, so.”

“You just try looking this good at 30. Fucking try.” 

He waits for a reply but your interest has already waned. You scroll through your phone, bored once more.

Seokjin makes a disgruntled noise in the back of his throat at the clear dismissal. You swear you hear him grumble under his breath - something along the lines of never going blonde again - but can’t find it in you to care, not when he’s finally ceased his nagging.

"Filming in twenty!" someone shouts from outside the door.

"They’re running behind schedule," Seokjin notes after glancing down at his gold wristwatch. "How can they take more than an hour to fix the lighting? Tch. Bunch of fuckin’ amateurs."

He aims a glare in your direction as if their incompetence is somehow your fault. 

You have half a mind to glower back but miraculously withhold your sentiments. Admittedly, he isn’t wrong - the team you’re working with today keeps committing blunders even rookies wouldn’t dare perpetrate - but you’d rather get your driving license revoked forever than to acknowledge that Seokjin’s right and inflate his already unnaturally huge ego.

Something heavy plops into your lap. When you look down, the glossy surface of a magazine reflects the harsh lights suspended over the vanity table back at you.

“I didn’t want to resort to this but you leave me no choice,” he says in response to your look of confusion.

“What’s this?”

You hold up the magazine expecting the worst. It’s heavy in your hands, the pages thicker than the gossip rags you’d find in a dentist’s waiting room. 

“’s the newest issue. Came out this morning. I’d actually like it back once you’re done because I haven’t finished reading it and God knows how hard it was to get my—hey, you can stop flicking aimlessly, I saved you the trouble and bookmarked the page,” Seokjin explains a bit impatiently.

When you shoot him a glance, his attention is trained on your face, not the magazine. He barely blinks. Like a snake honing in on its prey. And that kind of intense focus - that can’t be good. After all, you’ve known Seokjin long enough to suspect that whatever trick he has up his sleeve will give him the advantage he needs to deliver the killing blow.

Gingerly, you flip through the pages like you’re afraid the magazine might self-destruct in your hands. Which would be a waste, in your opinion, since Exquis is a damn good magazine - perhaps less intellectual than Playboy, but definitely classier than Hustler. Its reputation speaks for itself. Known for hiring the best photographers and carefully combing through their models, it’s selective, only picking the cream of the cr—

Everything around you stills.

Your eyes narrow at the spread because there, on the page Seokjin’s taken great care to bookmark, a model poses provocatively on a lounge chaise near a crystal clear pool. It’s similar to a shoot you’ve done in the past but you can tell right away that the quality of this is above and beyond anything you’ve ever done. The lighting is better, heck even the barely-there-swimsuit looks like it costs ten times more than whatever you had been told to throw on at the time.

The vexation you feel only worsens once it finally registers who the model is. Her youthful and pretty face carries a permanent haughtiness that not even makeup or acting can entirely mask.

The pages crease in your hold as you flick through the rest of the spread dedicated to the up and coming talents. With every new page that has her plastered on its glossy surface you feel your stomach sink. 

2...3...4...

“Five pages,” you curse under your breath. For a magazine this renowned, it’s...a lot. Commendable, even. Your nose crinkles. “Well, fuck. me. sideways.”

Seokjin gloats, reveling in your outrage. “Hmph. I told you, didn’t I? Passing up the opportunity to work with Kim Namjoon would come and bite you in the ass.”

“Aha! So you have been a little bitch because I refused to shoot with Namjoon.” You whirl around in your chair and use the magazine to jab him in the chest. He easily steps aside, avoiding your attempt at wrinkling his trademark Armani button-down shirt.

“It was the chance of a lifetime and you knew it.” He turns his nose up and sniffs.

“That’s what you said about filming with Min Yoongi last month.” You roll your eyes. “I can’t take you seriously if you’re gonna say the same thing every time a new guy shows up.”

“Shooting with Agust D did help you gain some mainstream popularity. You’ve gotten love calls for catalog printings and your name is now automatically on the invite sheet for every C-list event in town. Namjoon would have given you another needed boost.” Seokjin folds his arms, lecturing mode switched on. You struggle with the instinctive urge to tune him out. “Sure, he’s got a niche audience, but he’s famous in his field and it would have helped expand your fa—“

“Not to kink shame or anything because we don’t do that, but Namjoon is a freak. And don’t deny it, I’ve seen his videos.”

“He’s specialized in particular—“

“You were the one telling me not to film all sorts of shit right off the bat,” you cut in, refusing to back down from your stance. There’s no way you’ll let him sweet-talk you out of this one, not after the multiple videos of Namjoon you’d binged one weekend. “Stick to one story.”

“Well, we’re not exactly ‘right off the bat’ anymore, are we? We’ve passed that stage. Right now is a crucial time in your career so you’ve got to make it count. Filming rehashed videos of the same pizza delivery guy scenario gets boring and fast. As pretty as you are, you’re not offering anything new to the table, are you?”

Fuck him. He’s right and you know it. Temporary popularity is the biggest threat to your career right now. Without a solid core fan base you’re doomed to be forgotten. If not now, then in a month or two, and if not then, surely by the end of the year. That’s how quickly the adult film industry cycles through their actors, especially when you’re a woman.

Still. “I refuse to work with a guy whose porn alias is Cock Monster.”

“Beggars can’t be choosers.”

“Well I said no,” you insist stubbornly.

“Well if you had said yes, maybe it would be your ass cheeks getting their own two page spread in Exquis instead,” jabs Seokjin, hitting you where it hurts. 

Ugh. The reminder that Joy’s bested you yet again riles you up even more. That, coupled with the likelihood of your career ending imminently, makes you stop and think.

Your agent goes on to say, “Don’t you want the AVN for best newcomer? Where did that competitive edge go? At the rate this is going, Joy’s going to steal it from right under your nose.”

“Like fucking hell,” you hiss. The magazine bends under the strength of your grip. “That one’s mine.”

You absolutely refuse to lose out to her. Every fiber of your being rejects the idea of letting her one-up you again.

“Not if you don’t start branching out. The last time you did anything substantial or interesting was about a month ago. It’s already old news. People are going to forget you shot that sequence altogether if you don’t do anything that puts you back on the map.”

A pause. “…I really don’t want to film with someone who willingly named himself Cock Mons—”

“Fine.” Seokjin heaves a resigned sigh. “You don’t have to fuck the monster willy. Willy monster? Hm. Wouldn’t it make more sense to name himself Monster Cock and not Cock Monster? Wonder why he does th—”

You suppress a snort. “Please spare me while you can. It’s amazing, that talent for making everything sound a lot worse than it already it is.”

“Why, thank you.”

“It wasn’t a compliment.”

“You trying to insult someone who’s willing to find you someone else to work with? I can always ask Monster Meatstick if he’s up for—”

“No! No, that’s - not necessary.” You force out a smile that wouldn’t fool anyone into thinking its genuine. “Why would I ever insult you? You’re the best agent one could ask for.”

“That’s what I thought.” He takes your compliment, forced or not. When he smiles, smugness rolls off of him in waves. “One day you’ll realize you’re taking my talent for granted. I’ll find you another onscreen partner even though you don’t know what you’re missing out.”

“Thank you.”

“But!” He interjects and this time you don’t bother swallowing down your groan, already dreading the stipulations he has in store for you. “You have to promise to hold up your end of the bargain and try your best.”

Indignation colors your face. Your mouth falls open, retort at the ready. “When do I ever slack off on the job?! I’ve never given a half-assed blowjob in my life - and trust me, the temptation was there. Do you have any idea how hard it is to stay focused when the guy can’t cum on command? I once had to get my jaw realigned.”

“I’m not saying you’re slacking off,” he backtracks, switching tactics. His expression is soon replaced by the business-like smile you’re used to seeing on the regular. Tone buttery and appeasing, he tries to convince you through flattery instead. “You work hard and do a good job… I wouldn’t have signed you on otherwise. The problem isn’t with the quality of your work but with - all the rest.”

“The rest?” you parrot back dumbly, trying and failing to comprehend.

Seokjin scowl returns, unable to keep his genuine emotions under wraps.

“D’you honestly think you’re at a point in your career where you can pick and choose your jobs like this? Ever since you started dating that - that thing - your workload has significantly decreased. And not because you lacked opportunities. You had them but you turned them all down.” Visibly getting worked up over the issue, his voice rises an octave, then two. “What should’ve been a good spring board, only brought you back to square one. I know I can’t force you to take jobs if you refuse to, but I can say that your potential is going to waste. I’ve never seen someone sabotage herself like this before and it’s driving me up the wall. While I get that you’re under the delusion that you’ve found true love or whatever Disney fantasy Jungmin has sold you, you can’t turn down projects over and over again without there being serious repercussions. You’re smart enough to know this. I shouldn’t have to remind you.”

Seokjin’s chest heaves as he takes in several big gulps of air, visibly out of breath after his monologue.

For him to explode like popcorn kennels in the microwave... You reckon he’d let his feelings pile up inside him for a while, silently stewing.

You’ve never seen your agent look so visibly distressed. He’s normally the picture-perfect image of composure so the sight that greets you is enough of a shock to render you speechless.

Deep down, Seokjin probably means well. There aren’t a lot of agents like him; you’re one of the lucky ones. Most girls are discarded by their agencies as quickly as used tissues once they get milked for all their worth. 

Thankfully it’s never been that way with Seokjin. He claims that he’s in it for the long run. According to him the quick buck isn’t worth seeing the light die out in girl after girl. Perhaps that’s why he takes the task of ensuring your safety so seriously. How many times has he warned you to steer clear of this or that seedy director or ban you from attending drug-heavy parties? While his behavior can come off as overbearing on the worst days, at least he cares.

Sadly, it’s more than you can say for most.

In a way, he’s the only one in this business rooting for your success—if only because his paycheck depends on how well you perform. You like to pretend there’s more to it than that.

“I’m not - what’s Jimin got to do with any of this?” you splutter, still digesting the long tirade you’ve just been subjected to. 

“Are you serious? That’s all you got from what I said?”

“Well, no, but I still fail to—”

“Do you think me a fool?” He crosses his arms tightly across his broad chest. “The only scenes you’re willing to shoot are when he’s on set. Are you a kid or something? Since when do you need supervision to shoot a sex scene?”

“N-no. It just worked out that way, okay?” In reply to his dubious expression, you force yourself to explain. “Okay, okay - I get it. Maybe I might’ve lessened my workload recently but it has nothing to do with Jimin, alright? My vagina needs rest from time to time. Just because it’s my job doesn’t mean I don’t need a break. I’m human too, not some blow-up doll.”

“You expect me to believe that he has nothing to do with it? You were perfectly fine before he entered the picture. And now that you’re all loved up you only pick—”

A knock, so timid you barely catch it, cuts off the rest of his sentence.

“Yeah? Come in, I’m decent!” you yell - not that you care whether someone sees you naked or not. The concept of modesty has long been lost on you. Some might call it shamelessness or vanity, but you take pride in how you look. And why wouldn’t you? Your body is your bread and butter. You spend hours in the gym every week so that your ass looks good no matter what camera angle.

“It’s me.”

The door opens a crack and the speaker tentatively sticks his mop of hair through the small opening. As soon as you recognize him, your heart leaps at the sight and you quickly tighten your robe together.

“Oh, speak of the devil,” Seokjin mutters under his breath.

You resist the urge to throttle him and plaster on your brightest smile instead.

“I wanted to see how you were doing. Sorry I took so long... I would’ve come earlier but they needed my help.” Jimin scratches a spot behind his ear, sheepish. “Someone tripped over the cables and smashed a camera lens so we had to find a replacement. The director threw a fit and wanted to call it quits so we’ve been trying to calm him down this entire time. He did - eventually, anyway, after he called his dealer on set.”

A disapproving frown tugs at his mouth corners and mars his otherwise perfect appearance.

You take a moment to swoon internally. You’ll never get tired of admiring your boyfriend. Unlike the majority of the on-set personnel, he doesn’t reek of weed or booze or stale cigarette smoke. His ironed clothes and immaculate appearance always make it easy to spot him amidst the hungover crew.

“That’s fine! I kept myself busy.”

Jimin returns your smile, his eyes creasing into beautiful half-moon crescents. You don’t know what kind of love-struck expression covers your face but next to you Seokjin makes a noise that sounds like a cross between a gag and a cough.

“Oh! Here, I brought snacks. I didn’t know what you liked so I just grabbed everything I could get my hands on.” He holds up a paper plate stacked with treats no doubt stolen from the catering service. “I know I kind of went overboard but I wanted to make sure you kept your sugar level up.”

“That’s sweet of you,” you coo, reaching to take the plate from him. He’s piled on the sweets so high that it’s a miracle nothing has toppled over yet. You aren’t especially hungry but take a bite out of a chocolate candy to show how much you appreciate the effort. Its gooey consistency melts on your tongue, the taste so sweet it sticks to your teeth.

“How adorable,” chimes in Seokjin, his hand grabbing a licorice stick from the mountain of candy before you can swat him away. “Thanks Jongmin.”

“Jimin,” he corrects good-naturedly, his smile not budging an inch. You think, privately, that’s what you like the most about him. Not many have the ability to block out Seokjin’s bullshit so effectively.

“Mmh,” your manager says around a mouthful of candy. “Seokjin. Pleasure.”

You elbow him while gritting your teeth. “Can you...give us a moment?”

Seokjin swallows down the treat and opens his mouth in protest. He has the audacity to look betrayed. “You’re kicking me out of our room so the two of you can get it on? Really?” 

Jimin’s cheeks flush and you quickly cut in before your agent can make matters worse.

"I just want to talk without you breathing down my neck. Weren’t you going off earlier about how I didn’t need adult supervision anymore? Well?”

“Fine. Fine! But you owe me. Again.” He grabs his portable phone charger from the vanity table before making his exit. “And don’t forget what we talked about!”

What a fucking drama queen. You have no idea why he always insists on making a scene when you know for a fact that he would’ve left of his own volition in five minutes anyway. For reasons he has no trouble disclosing, he can’t stand Jimin’s presence.

“I won’t,” you grumble just so that you can get him out of your hair faster.

The door slams shut with more force than strictly necessary. Silence hangs in the air for a brief moment before Jimin turns his warm gaze towards you.

“What was that about?” 

“Uh, nothing. You know how he is...” You play with the ends of your braided hair. “He can’t go very long without throwing a tantrum.’

“He seems very protective of you,” remarks Jimin, a thoughtful expression painting his angelic face. “I think that’s why he’s not that fond of me.”

“Nonsense,” you rebut immediately as you take his hands in yours. “Who could ever not like you?”

Jimin allows his lips to quirk into a small, self-deprecating smile that you promptly erase with a kiss. His lips feel pillow-soft against yours, and you let yoruself indulge in the feeling before pulling back.

You sigh, remembering the scene you’ve yet to film. “If only my co-star was you.”

He laughs at that. “Seokjin would probably throw a fit, huh?”

.

.

Jimin treats you to dinner that night.

He chooses the restaurant. It’s a small, quaint place, tucked into a hidden corner just minutes away from the bustling main street of the shopping district. It’s not the kind of place people stumble across by accident but judging by the occupied tables, business is doing fine by reputation alone.

The owner comes out to greet Jimin by name. They exchange warm greetings, the woman asking him how his brother’s been doing and whether he’ll stop by anytime soon.

“Ah - I’m not sure... You know how he is... I’ll let him know you said hi.”

“Tell him I’ll give him an extra serving of ribs. That was his favorite, right?”

When her eyes trail over Jimin’s shoulder and spot you, she grins so wide you’d think she won the lottery or something. “Park Jimin! You’ve gone and found a girlfriend! And so pretty, too. Ah, really...time sure flies by. I remember when you first started coming here - and now!”

You smile back, greeting her with a polite handshake. The owner is quick to usher you into a small booth in the back. She hands you the menus while patting Jimin on his shoulder. “I’ll get you drinks. It’s on the house.”

“You don’t have to do that!” protests Jimin, shaking his head. “Really. It’s not—”

“Nonsense.” She waves a hand at him. “You’ll get two more if you keep that up, Park Jimin.”

Once she knows she’s earned Jimin’s compliance, she leaves with a satisfied smile. You can tell by their genuine interactions that she’s close to Jimin. Family, perhaps? Either way, this isn’t a place Jimin tracked down on yelp. He flips through the menu with ease, like he’s done it hundreds of times before. 

“Sorry about that,” he says once she’s out of earshot. “I used to come here all the time with my family when we all still lived here. They moved and live in a different town now so we haven’t had a meal together here in years, but. I still come here. The food is good, of course, but - I dunno. I have good memories here so I thought I’d share it with you. It sounds stupid now.”

He laughs quietly, cheeks flushed a pretty pink. 

“I love it.” You can’t help but smile, cheeks hurting from the force of it. Invisible liquor runs through your bloodstream, a ball of warmth unfurling in your belly. “Thank you.”

A pause ensues. It’s one of those moments in which you’re unsure if you’ve said too much or not enough. Being here with Jimin means a lot. You’re not the most verbose person but you hope that Jimin can feel your sincerity.

Maybe your stare comes off as too intense because Jimin breaks the eye contact and clears his throat.

He fiddles with his earring and says, “The food is really good!”

Pink dots his cheeks as he attempts to change the subject. “I don’t know how long the place has been around for but the food is exactly the same. Apparently it’s the sauce they use? Auntie still won’t share the recipes with me and I’ve known her since I was a kid.”

He chatters on, gaining confidence when he notices you’re not put off or bored by his numerous anecdotes. As time passes by, he’s visibly more relaxed. His laugh is more natural, less restrained, like he’s using all the muscles in his face and not just the ones near his mouth.

It’s a stark difference from the first date, you think. Back then he had come off as quite shy, preferring to let you lead the conversation, only offering up tidbits from time to time. Now the conversation flows easily. Nothing feels forced or awkward and - it’s nice. The normalcy of it. Like a hot cup of tea before bed or the scent of the fabric softener your mother uses. It’s something you find comfort in, that you can see yourself coming back to and not growing tired of.

Seokjin can say what he wants - that Jimin’s too uninteresting, that you’re too mismatched of a couple - whatever. 

Jimin likes you for you.

When you’re out on dates or when the two of you talk on the phone late into the evening, he rarely brings up your job. Instead, he asks you questions about your favorite TV shows, your dipping sauce preferences, the first album you purchased. These small details might seem inconsequential to others but to you, they’re a welcome breath of fresh air.

For all the talks of Jimin being too average and too normal, men like him are in reality surprisingly hard to come by.

Because what you haven’t failed to notice since you began your career as a porn star is that people love the idea of you. People who avidly watch you from their laptop screen in the comfort of their own home think that you’re some type of sex goddess - that you’re basically up for anything. In their minds, you’re a fun girl who loves sex, all kinds of sex, any kind of sex, and who doesn’t have any qualities or attributes other than making people cum until their limbs go numb.

Your feelings? Not really important. Feelings would make you human and being human would ruin their favorite fantasy.

That’s what takes you a while to learn - you don’t get paid to have sex, you get paid to sell dreams.

It doesn’t bother you at first. In a way, you think, it’s like acting. The porn star people jerk off to daily is a character you play, a mask you can take off at your leisure once the camera director yells ‘cut!’.

Very quickly, you learn people don’t share the same sentiment. To them, the line that distinguishes you from your job persona isn’t blurry - it simply doesn’t exist.

In the beginning, you’d stayed optimistic. Once people get to know you past the image they’ve built up in their heads, surely they’ll realize you’re not a sex-craved addict who only has dick on the brain, right? But with every new date you accept to go on, the reality of your situation only leaves room for disappointment and barely reigned in revulsion.

Even in non-romantic situations, people let you down. Old classmates, neighbors... It pisses you off that they assume you have no self-worth just because you’re a sex worker. Stevie from 308 down the hall once tried throwing crumpled bills at you, expecting you to crawl over to him for a fifty. The memory is enough to set your blood boiling. You can’t wait until you earn big enough bucks to move out of your shitty apartment into a nice high-rise penthouse, away and above all the scum of the Earth.

“You okay?” asks Jimin, noticing the crease that burrows your brow. “The food alright?”

You blink several times, belatedly realizing you had zoned out. Guilt and embarrassment well up within you.

“M’yeah,” you swallow down the spoonful of stew stuffed in your mouth. “Sorry.”

Jimin chews his bottom lip. Finally, he settles with, “Tell me if I’m boring you.”

“No, no! You’re not.” His evident doubt does nothing to alleviate the sudden nausea swarming your lower belly. “I’m serious, Jimin. I’m - Sorry if I gave off that impression. I just - I have a lot on my mind but you’re lovely. I’d tell you if you were - you know. Promise.”

“Would you? Sometimes I think you’re too nice.” It’s not delivered as an insult, but it doesn’t exactly sound like praise, either. 

You force out a snort. “Heh. Wish you’d tell Seokjin that.”

“He’s not too cross with me, is he?” Jimin’s expression looks awkward, like he’s forcing his facial muscles to stay relaxed and mien nonchalant.

“Wh- oh, you mean because of earlier? He isn’t. That’s not him being angry. It’s not even you. It’s me. We just have - a slight difference in opinions, I suppose. If you can even call it that.”

“He doesn’t want you to date me,” concludes Jimin.

The frustrations you’d repressed earlier in the day come back. Why does Seokjin’s opinion matter? You huff, putting your spoon down.

“He’s not my dad. And even if he was, I’m grown. I can make my own decisions.” You roll your eyes. “Don’t worry about him. He’ll get over it... It’s not like it’s any of his business in the first place.”

“Still...” Jimin says, unsure. “He’s your agent. I wouldn’t want the relation between you to sour because of me.”

“Honestly, I’m convinced it’s not even you he has a problem with. We talked about it today and I think he’s getting antsy because, um, you know, I haven’t accepted any big offers lately. Like, I’m staying too much in my comfort zone or something. He says that in the long run that can be detrimental to my career.”

It’s a bit strange, discussing your work with Jimin. You both work in the same industry, Jimin as a second camera assistant and you as an adult entertainer, but outside of filming sets, you rarely acknowledge what the other person does for a living.

“Oh.”

“Yeah. He wants me to branch out and try new things.”

“What, you mean anal? Gangbangs?”

“Um, yeah. All that, probably...” You have to blink several times because of the shock of hearing Jimin say that so casually. “...Is that okay?”

“Huh?” Jimin in turn blinks at you, like your question doesn’t properly register. “Oh, yeah, sure. I’m fine with it. You said it’ll be good for your career?”

“Apparently.”

“Then, yeah.” He shrugs like he isn’t bothered by the news at all. “Of course that’s okay.”

A part of you wants to push the issue, ask him why he’d be fine with his girlfriend filming intense sex scenes with random men, but that inner voice is snuffed out before the poisonous thought has time to take root.

Isn’t this what you always wanted? A boyfriend who is accepting and understanding of your profession?

You wash down your worries with a gulp or two of soju, determined not to let your own insecurities ruin the rest of your night.

.

.

Less than 24 hours after you’ve agreed to work on a worthwhile project of Seokjin’s choosing, a slew of texts blow up your phone. 

Unsurprisingly, it’s your agent. A quick scroll through your phone reveals that your agent has left you with no less than 15 messages, 1 voicemail, and 3 e-mails.

It’s...a lot. You’ve grown to expect that kind of fanfare with him. Like any man who deals with legally binding contracts on a daily basis, Seokjin ensures that you keep your word. He can be extremely persuasive when he sets his mind to it. You’ve seen men and women alike succumb to the force of his magnetism. Back when your filmography had solely consisted of amateur sex tapes shot in bad lighting with low-grade filming equipment, Seokjin's charms alone had been sufficient to win over lukewarm casting directors and book you jobs.

SEOKJIN : hey!!!!!!!!

SEOKJIN : ???

SEOKJIN : wow. you’re leaving me on read.........the audacity. 

SEOKJIN : i raised you on my back and this is how you repay me?

SEOKJIN : do you not respect your elders in your household?

SEOKJIN : i swear if you’re blowing me off for jimmy instead of answering your calls .........

SEOKJIN : or blowing jimmy. either one.

SEOKJIN : ok it’s been 10 min. i’m chill but not that chill.

SEOKJIN : can you please stop sucking dick and read your emails. it’s important.

YOU : ever heard of multitasking? god gave us two hands for a reason

SEOKJIN : oh. nasty.

SEOKJIN : way to ruin my lunch.

SEOKJIN : well. suck down that nut sauce asap

SEOKJIN : cos what i sent you needs your undivided attention

YOU : i’m nasty?? me????

YOU : you don’t hear me saying nUT SAUCE you freak

SEOKJIN : nutté sauce

SEOKJIN : there. fixed it.

YOU : ...that’s not even a thing

SEOKJIN : well it should be!

SEOKJIN : adding accents makes it instantly classier, don’t you think? nutté sauce. has a nice ring to it.

SEOKJIN : honestly. sounds like some fancy four star french starter now.

YOU : ???? it absolutely doesn’t but ok

SEOKJIN : imagine. during a scene you just yell out

SEOKJIN : “i’d like a serving of your nutté sauce to go”

YOU : dicks would shrivel up on the spot

SEOKJIN : what? i think it’s brilliant!

SEOKJIN : my talent is wasted as an agent. should’ve been a scriptwriter instead.

YOU : yes i’m sure the oscars are weeping over the missed opportunity

He takes your sarcasm at face value, feeding you more ridiculous variants of faux french cum lingo—that which you very wisely choose not to reply to. Instead of humoring him, you open the .pdf file he’s sent your way, ignoring the near-constant buzzing of your phone as he’s no doubt pestering you for an immediate answer.

Had it not been necessary for business, you’d have blocked his number ages ago. In fact, after that nut sauce comment you’re seriously reconsidering, business obligations be damned. 

To his credit, the film project he suggests you work on doesn't sound half-bad despite its questionable title. Why anyone would choose to name it THE SPERMINATOR is beyond you.

As you read through the proposition, you’re surprised to find it’s tamer than the initial imaginary scenario you’d played out in your head. Expecting to read through a long list of unnameable kinks and dicks, the scene description is rather domestic all things considered.

Your shoulders sag in relief. You enjoy sex as much as the next person, but even you have limits you’re not willing or eager to cross. You’re a human being, first and foremost, and, contrary to popular belief, not competing in the sex olympics.

From what you’ve read so far, nothing in Seokjin’s offer seems too strenuous or perverse. The scene in question is centered around a young, newly married couple trying to conceive for the first time and the sex acts are described as “romantic insemination” - whatever the fuck that means. The only complication you can think of is that you’ve never played the part of a married couple before. None of your previous films specifically target couples or women. Is romance something you can sell accordingly?

You’re quick to shake the concern off once you remember that no one cares if your acting is shit or not. All you probably have to do is yell out ‘Daddy’ a few times mid-thrust and call it a day.

Honestly, you’re a bit disappointed in Seokjin for choosing such a safe, no-risk project - especially since he constantly advocates the risk-return trade off as the way to live by. But you’re not about to start complaining. You’d rather shoot this type of innocuous scenario than ridiculous, hentai-like scenes involving freakish get-ups and toys of monster proportions not realistically made to fit in a vagina.

The deal is perfect. Almost too perfect.

Subconsciously, you must realize something is wrong. Maybe Seokjin’s many lessons have finally rubbed off on you because there’s a persistent voice in your ear warning you that the film proposition is a trap, one that you’ve unfortunately walked straight into.

Your wariness increases when he refuses to send you the script upon request. Alarm bells ring off but by then it’s too late.

“The thing is... Director Ryu wants to try a new type of project," Seokjin says over the phone once you call him up for answers. "He thinks he’s going to pioneer a new genre of porn and revolutionize the industry - his words, not mine.”

“What the hell does that even mean?”

“How do I explain this without you getting the wrong idea..."

“Is this meant to reassure me?!” Dread drips from your tone. You should’ve suspected something was off from the very moment Seokjin suggested to shoot vanilla porn as your next big project. What a joke.

“Calm down, it's not as bad as - whatever you're thinking.” Too bad that his attempts to calm you down have the opposite effect. “He’s been wanting to try out a new improvisation format for his porn movies.”

“Come again?”

A beat of uncomfortable quiet passes. Reluctantly, Seokjin explains, “Which means - there isn’t an actual script to go off of. That’s why I couldn’t send it to you - because there is none. He wants it to be as realistic and natural as possible so he’s looking for actors who can go with their gut and create their own scenario instead of ones who need to be directed.”

Your resounding silence speaks for itself.

Sure, sometimes they provide scripts to act as guidelines, roughly giving the actor an idea of how the scene will unfold, but no one is expected to follow it word for word. Most porn films rely on improvisation rather than scripts because of how notoriously bad porn stars are at acting and memorizing more than a few lines at a time, and the introduction scene never lasts very long anyway for it to make a noticeable difference. Besides, after filming a handful of movies, you’ve noticed the dialogue is more or less all the same.

What bothers you is that this director wants you to carry out a movie that relies heavily on improvised dialogue. Convincingly.

“C’mon,” Seokjin tries when you refuse to deign him with an answer. “It’ll be fun. You like acting, right?”

“Seokjin...” You pinch the bridge of your nose and try to keep your composure in check. “How do I break this down for you? I think you’re forgetting the most crucial detail here - I can’t act! The closest I've ever gotten to acting is faking an orgasm and I’m pretty certain that doesn’t count."

“And you do that very well!" says Seokjin encouragingly. "You'll be fine. Don’t stress over it. Your scenes with Min Yoongi last time were perfectly acceptable!”

“That’s the thing.” Stress makes your voice raise a half-step. “He did, like, 90% of the acting! Back then, all I had to do was moan and act like a slut! Which hardly counts - I was being myself. Whatever this - thing - you’re attempting to rope me into - I’m not qualified for it.”

“Sweetheart, we’re not aiming for the fucking Oscars here.” When he laughs, it’s practiced enough to sound sincere. “At the end of the day, it’s still porn. Nobody’s expecting you to be the next Meryl. And besides,” he presses on, clearly refusing to change his mind. “This is exactly what you need right now. Something fresh, something new. If you pull this off, you’ll gain exposure.”

“If I pull it off. Big if."

“I know it sounds like a gamble. I get it, I do. But remember what I always say? High risk—”

“Yes, yes. High reward. I get it.” Your frown deepens. “There’s no way to know this will work, though.”

“A good co-star already guarantees you half of the success. And luckily for you, the guy they signed on seems like the real deal. He’s hot, you’re hot. People will pay money to see you two fuck regardless of how good or bad the acting is.”

“Well. That’s reassuring,” you say, voice as flat as a board. “Although I suppose watching porn on mute is always an option if it comes to that.”

“It was a joke!” What worries you is that it doesn’t sound like it is. “You have nothing to worry about. I’ve seen some of your co-star’s tapes. He’s got a mouth on him, if you know what I mean. Just let him lead and it’ll go swimmingly.”

“It’s one thing to follow someone’s lead during sex but you want me to - to improvise for God knows how long! That’s just asking for a disaster to happen.”

“You said you were up for a challenge!” Seokjin throws your words back at you, his tone accusing.

“And you said this would be beneficial for my career! How is making a fool out of myself going to help me any? I don’t want to be remembered as the girl who can’t act to save her life.” You want to cry in frustration. If you had wanted to act you would’ve chosen that as your major in college. “I don’t - I can’t do this. I’m not - this isn’t what I signed up for! How do you expect me to convince viewers what they’re watching is real...”

“Just—” Exasperated, he takes a deep breath. Exhales. “Trust me. When have I ever been wrong about film projects.”

Is putting your career at risk really worth it? You’re not sure anymore.

On the bright side, it’ll finally get Seokjin off your back, you reason, trying to remain positive. That in itself is worth celebrating, right?

Fine. You’ll agree to it out of pettiness. Once Seokjin realizes what a terrible idea this entire ordeal is, you won’t hesitate to rub it back in his face. He’ll never hear the end of it.

"Who am I working with, anyway?”

"Ah, hm, well." Hesitation creeps up his voice for the first time, putting you instantly on edge. "...You won't know him. He's new to the scene - got started a month or two ago, I forget."

"Great. Not only am I being used as a lab rat for this director to experiment on but you're also pairing me with a fucking rookie. Jesus.”

"He’s not half bad! He’s not bad at all, actually. I wouldn't be insisting if I didn't trust him not to blow his load early."

"Aren’t I lucky,” you deadpan. “So I don't have to worry about him busting a nut before the director gives the signal?"

“All you’ll have to do is act like a married couple with baby fever,” he talks over you, ignoring your overflowing sarcasm. “And how hard can that be? You’ve been loved up with Jumin for a month now - that’s plenty enough practice if you ask me. I know you’ll be able to sell that romantic shit to the public without too much trouble.”

“It’s Jimin,” you correct from force of habit.

You’re promptly ignored — not that you expected anything less from him.

"Just give it a thought? And get back to me when you make up your mind. The sooner the better. The offer won't stay on the table forever." Even over the line, you can picture Seokjin raising his eyebrows at you, expectant. “If you’re serious about this job, you know what you have to do.”

You both know that you’ll accept the offer. Seokjin’s got you all figured out. As much as you don’t like being pushed around, the need to prove yourself is your main driving factor. The acquaintances who sneer at you, the family members who’ve shun you, the peers who expect you to burn out after the five month mark—you’d rather roll over and die than prove their misconceptions right.

It’s a matter of pride when you sniff and reply, “I’ll think about it.”

But the decision is already made before the call ends.

.

.

SCENE 02 - THE SPERMINATOR. TAKE 02. ROLL B. 

.

Eight days later you find yourself squeezed into a brazenly short dress that zips in the front, more fit for a night out in a club than a dinner at home. It’s so ridiculously tight, you feel like a prey being swallowed down by a snake. There’s no room to breathe. You can’t wait for the scene to start, if only so you can dispose of the piece of fabric and never wear it again.

Unfortunately, your outfit gets worse because thrown over the clubbing attire is a frilly apron with small hearts embroidered along the hem. The mismatch is jarring. You’re not sure what look the stylist is going for but the end result is very...peculiar.

You comfort yourself with the knowledge that it could always be worse.

A quick glance at the digital clock on your phone confirms that you’re running on time. Good. After your last gig, the last thing you want is to spend hours waiting for the personnel to set up the cameras and sound equipment correctly.

Thankfully, today’s team works like a well-oiled machine. All that’s left are the last-minute preparations before the shoot begins.

Your false eyelashes are still drying when Seokjin elbows you sharply in the ribs. You crack open an eye to glare at him. “Ouch - ah, seriously? What is it now?”

“That’s him, that’s him!” Seokjin whispers under his breath, his gaze glued to a point somewhere beyond your shoulder. “Wooow. Aren’t you a lucky bitch? I’d gargle his nutté sauce for breakfast, if you get what I mean. He looks way better in person, damn.”

“Firstly - please never say that out loud again.” You fake a gag. “How do I buy myself a new set of ears?”

Seokjin ignores your dramatics. He shoots you a look. “You let that last guy draw a starfish on your face with his crème de la nut but did you hear me go sick?”

“That’s not the same and you know it!” Your jaw drops in indignation. “And can you stop trying to make nut cream a thing for the love of—”

“What’s this about nut cream?”

You whip your head around, mortification already etched onto your features. Your mouth opens, defense at the ready, only for your throat to clamp up.

“Oh.” You blink up in surprise because - well, Seokjin’s earlier assessment isn’t embellished. The guy is fit as fuck.

You’d seen photos in passing, had even googled his name out of curiosity, but the two-dimensional version of him pales to his real life physique. There’s a sharpness to his features that the camera fails to pick up on, a vibrancy that gets lost in the medium. 

“Hey. I’m Hoseok.” His grip is firm, assertive, and your eyes naturally wander over his form. The loose muscle tee he’s thrown on puts his toned arms on display and makes it easier to admire the seemingly endless expanse of sun-kissed skin. He’s neither too thick nor too spindly, his muscles lean and firm instead of bulging. Strong but not intimidating. “I look forward to working with you.”

“Likewise.” You swallow, mouth dry.

You expect him to leave it at that like most of your past co-stars usually do. Or worse - for him to abandon all pretenses and cross lines that aren’t meant to be crossed. As someone who has experienced it all - from standoffish to creepy and vile - nothing surprises you anymore.

But unlike your, admittedly low, expectations, his gaze is warm and friendly. He speaks smoothly, leaving no time for an awkward silence to instill itself.

“Yeah, I know who you are! I saw a video or two of yours before - you were featured on the agency’s main page last month, right? Fuckin’ genius, by the way. Best stuff I’ve seen in a long ass time.” An easy grin sits on his face, nothing about it fake or contrived. “I hope we get along today. I haven’t done much work myself - yet anyway - but I hope this can be a good experience for the both of us.”

“You’ll be in good hands,” Seokjin assures, patting your shoulder like a proud parent. “_____ here is the best talent I’ve signed on.”

“That I can believe,” Hoseok chimes, his smile never waning. “I’ve heard good stuff about you. I won’t lie - it reassured me a fuck ton when I heard I’d be working with you. The stuff we’re doing is, well, it’s a bit of a gamble at this point, but I’m sure it’ll go well because I’ll be working with you.”

For a brief, embarrassing moment, you’re robbed of words, unable to respond to his flattery. From experience, you know to be wary of guys like him. Whenever someone lays it on thick they always have an ulterior motive. But what could possibly be his?

“Seokjin’s saying that because I’m the only one who can stand his nagging,” you finally say, your shoulders stiff. Maybe it’s because you’ve just met, but it’s hard to figure him out and it doesn’t help that you’re naturally wary of strangers.

“Oh hush. You love me.” Sensing how guarded you’ve become, Seokjin mercifully offers you an out. “It was nice meeting you, Hoseok. Wish we could stay and chat but she has to get ready to film the pre-interview portion.”

“Oh yeah, that’s cool. Catch you later.”

You offer a quick smile he returns tenfold, its brightness momentarily dazzling you.

Slightly dazed from the intensity of it, you stagger behind Seokjin, sun spots dotting your vision. Your surroundings blur together as your mind tries to recover from the interaction.

“Sooooooooo?” Seokjin sing-songs once you’ve walked far enough to be out of earshot. His brows are raised knowingly, an infuriating type of smugness clinging to his features. “What did I tell you! He’s hot enough to single-highhandedly melt a glacier, huh?”

You scoff, not willing to admit anything. “He’s okay.”

“Oh c’mon. He’s baby daddy material for sure. Which works out well for you since he’s gonna pump one into you later.”

For once the grimace that crosses your face isn’t exaggerated. “Please. Stop. Talking. I’m this close to heaving out my lunch.”

You’re not even joking with that one. Attractive as Hoseok may be, any talk of baby-making is enough to dissipate any smidgens of lust.

The reminder of what the upcoming scene entails and the expectations people carry crash down on you like a pile of bricks. Although you’ve done your best to ignore the fact you’ll be acting today, the meeting with Hoseok yanks you harshly back to reality.

You’re going to act. As a married couple. Trying to conceive a baby.

Three things that have never, ever been on your bucket list are now about to be crossed out in the span of the same afternoon. To that you can only say - what the fuck is my life.

Like a mounting wave before the inevitable crash, panic crests within you. You feel it gradually build and build, flooding your lungs and every crevice of your body with overwhelming anxiety.

Seokjin sighs. “How are you going to make it through today? The whole point of the sex scene is to get you pregnant. Or fake pregnant. You know what I mean.”

“Um...” You try to laugh but it comes out shaky. Seokjin shoots you a concerned look. “I’ll be fine! Really! I can do it. It’s just acting like you said, right? It’s not like he’s actually gonna knock me up in real life. So. Totally fine. It’s fine. Perfect.”

Seokjin’s concern grows. His eyebrows pinch together and his expression turns serious. He asks with no trace of mockery, “Are you okay?”

“I’m okay!” you reply. It’s too rushed of an answer to convince him. Your palms feel clammy and you wipe them off your damned apron. “Just. Nervous. Y’know.”

His steps slow to a halt and he places a warm, heavy hand on your shoulder. The weight, familiar and comforting, grounds you to reality. “Hey. What’s there to be nervous about? You got this.”

“Yeah.” You nod. Maybe if you say it enough times you’ll trick yourself into believing it. “I’ve got this.”

“Look. Let me be honest for a second. I’ve been an agent for eight years now and I’ve seen a lot of talents come and go. No pun intended.” You smile back at him weakly. “You’ve got something...extra a lot of them lacked. I knew the moment I saw you on film you’d go far. The energy you bring onscreen is insane. I know today might seem new and strange - but so was your first ever professionally shot film, right? And you got through that fine. You’ll do great. I know it. And, not to toot my own horn, but I’m always right.”

That earns him a laugh. The nerves are still there but thanks to his pep talk it’s easier to breathe.

Despite being a big pain in the ass, Seokjin is exemplary at his job. Without him, you’re acutely aware you wouldn’t have gotten half as far as you have. Having him by your side is a reassurance in itself.

Someone calls your name, pulling you from your thoughts. When you turn around, you’re face to face with the round, bespectacled face of Director Ryu. You reckon he’s in his early forties but he acts younger than his age. It’s your first time working with him but so far he’s been nice enough, if a little full of himself. Not that you’re unaccustomed with working alongside conceited colleagues.

“Oh good, you’re back. You can get seated for the interview bit.” He points over to a chair placed in front of a pale yellow wall. From close up, you can see a paint job is in order, the old coat chipping off in several places. “Alright, this won’t last long - just need you to answer some questions on tape and we’ll be good to go.”

“Sure thing.” You nod and follow his directions, sitting still while the hair and make-up artist steps up to give your lips a final touch-up.

Strictly speaking, the before and after interviews aren’t a necessity. In your experience, directors mostly film the short question-and-answer sequence when you’re set to film hardcore sex scenes as a way to show viewers everything is consensual and that you thoroughly enjoyed the experience despite whatever might have transpired on screen.

You reckon the director wants to film you today to document the process behind his “groundbreaking film project”. Cue roll of eyes.

Somebody needs to tell him he isn’t inventing anything, you think while watching him fiddle with the camera until he’s completely satisfied with the angle. All he’s done so far is add unnecessary pressure on you. You hope Hoseok is faring better because the amount of performance anxiety you’re experiencing is an instant boner killer.

“You nervous?” the director asks once he’s done adjusting the camera lens.

While by some standards you’re still considered a newbie in the industry, you’ve done this enough times to fall into a routine. Wake-up, breakfast, get ready, arrive before call time, fill out all the paperwork and get ready to shoot your solo stills. It’s familiar enough that you’ve long stopped getting pre-performance jitters.

Today’s rush of anxiety is as surprising as it is unwelcome. They don’t want to hear that particular truth though, so you keep your reply sweet and bubbly.

“Nah,” you grin, wide and easy. “I’m super excited to film today!”

“Oh yeah? Is it perhaps because of your co-star?”

Your smile freezes for a second. Somewhere over the director’s shoulder you can see Seokjin nodding enthusiastically while giving you the double thumbs up. “Hoseok? He’s hot, sure.”

“Ooh. Already on a first name basis?”

“Hm?” you let out a noise of polite confusion, only belatedly realizing that his viewers know him better as his porn alias, J-Hope. But there’s no way in hell you’re going to yell that out loud while he’s fucking an orgasm out of you. Not only does it sound ridiculous but it’ll shatter whatever carefully crafted illusion you manage to build. “Um, yes. We’re getting to know each other. He’s very friendly.”

“I’m sure he is.” And there’s an implication there that doesn’t sit too well with you but thankfully Director Ryu chooses to move on and put that particular subject to rest.

“You ever shoot an insemination scene before?”

“Not yet.” You make sure to keep the smile on your face even if your cheeks are beginning to hurt. “I can’t wait to get to it. It’s a fantasy I’ve always had but never tried out for myself. I’m excited to film a first on camera!”

The director has yet to call you out for your bullshit so you slowly start to relax. Acting is a bit like lying, isn’t it? Maybe you can get through today after all.

You breeze through the rest of the questions, forcing out practiced laughs here and there all whilst keeping your voice syrupy sweet. It’s quick work, especially when you know what to expect. Before you know it, it’s already time to film the pièce de résistance. Everyone that’s allowed on set during filming filters into the kitchen, conversations between crew members dying down as they use their last recreational moments to check their phones.

The director’s filming style exempts you from shooting the customary pre-shoot sex stills which are essentially promotional pictures of you and and your partner in every sex position that you’ll be filming for real later on. You’re thankful for that, at least. Even with all of your on-camera experience, staying perfectly silent and still with someone’s dick inside you is no easy feat. It’s worse when you have to keep eye contact with your co-star and fake sexual gratification because the shot calls for it.

Hoseok waves at you from the other side of the room, the hair and makeup artist dusting some powder across the slope of his nose.

How can he look so relaxed?! You’re barely holding your lunch down. Honestly, it’s a miracle you’re able to now tat the butterflies are back in full force, making a mess of your stomach.

You feel queasy but try not to make it too obvious even as Seokjin comes around to check up on you. The last thing you want to do is make a scene, especially when your onscreen counterpart's demeanor is making you look amateurish in comparison.

Maybe Hoseok is a better actor than you’re able to give most porn stars credit for because try as you might, you fail to detect any nervous undercurrent in his tone. For someone who is supposedly starring in his first major project, he doesn’t seem all too bothered about how it might play out.

How does he do it?! In all honesty, if Seokjin hadn’t informed you of his rookie status, you would be none the wiser.

There’s an ease with which he carries himself, a fluidity in his movements that belies no anxiety or awkwardness. Even from this distance you can tell that there’s never a hint of hesitation in his movements or speech; he doesn’t seem self-conscious in the least. He talks and moves with the assurance of someone who has been in the industry for months, not weeks.

In that moment you envy him. You’re so nervous about the upcoming scene that it’s hard to feign an air of professional detachment.

His boisterous laugh is loud enough to carry across the room and interrupt your line of thought. When you look over at him again, you find him folded in half, hands clutching his sides, and wearing a grin so bright it eclipses the entirety of his face.

“He seems nice.”

You jump, startled by Jimin’s sudden appearance. You hadn’t even heard him draw near. With a sheepish expression, you turn to look up at him only to find him already staring off into the distance. There’s a strange look painting his face, and a small crease in his brow that usually isn’t present. When you follow his line of sight, you’re met with the image of Hoseok talking animatedly to the the small crowd that’s flocked around him.

“Yeah.” You aren’t sure what else to say. Although there’s no sarcasm attached to his words, you can’t help but find Jimin unnaturally tense.

Which makes sense, you concede guiltily. A mere stranger is minutes away from dicking down his girlfriend. You’re not sure how you’d feel if you were to stand in his shoes.

You breathe in deep, silently willing away the knot of distress in your belly. There’s nothing wrong with what you’re doing. It’s just a job. A profession that Jimin has always been fully aware of, even before you’d begun dating.

Even as you remind yourself of the facts, it does little to dispel the lingering feelings of doubt and guilt.

“Hey.” Jimin frowns at you in concern. “You alright?”

“Yep!” you say then immediately sigh, knowing that lying to your boyfriend is pointless. “I’m just a bit nervous.”

“Nervous?” Jimin’s worry grows, the crease in his brow deepening. “What about?”

“Just—” You gesture around with your hands. “All of this.”

“Oh.” He looks genuinely surprised. “But you don’t usually get nervous... Is it the impregnation thing you’ll have to do? I know you’ve said you’re not a big fan of that. Or... Is it something else?”

“I don’t know,” you answer truthfully. It’s a bit of everything yet at the same time nothing you can clearly pinpoint and put a finger on. In all logic, you know that you’re feeling disproportionately stressed out but you can’t stop yourself from feeling how you feel. “It’s not that I don’t want to film. I just - I’m worried I won’t do well.”

Jimin takes your hand between his, running a thumb in soothing circles across the surface of your skin. He repeats the motion several times until your heartbeat is completely synced to his touch.

“You’ll do great. You always do.” The lines of his mouth bend into a smile. “I’ll be on the sidelines cheering you on.”

“My very own cheerleader.” You allow yourself to relax and and smile back fondly.

As much as you worry about Jimin being upset with you filming sex scenes with other actors, he’s never been anything less than the supporting boyfriend you’ve always dreamed of. Seokjin calls Jimin’s constant presence on set maddening, but you’re thankful that your boyfriend sticks by your side while others might flee or shame you.

Suddenly, you’re overcome with emotion. Maybe it’s the stress, or maybe today you’re more hormonal than usual, but your eyes threaten to well up as you grip his palm tightly in your own. “Jimin, I—”

“Okay, lovebirds!” Seokjin claps his hands once, effectively ruining your moment. “Hand-holding time is over. We’re moving onto the more R-rated stuff.”

“Seokjin!” you hiss, upset over his horrible timing.

“It’s fine.” Jimin shakes his head. “He’s right, shoot’s about to start anytime soon. I need to get ready, too.”

“Right.”

Reluctantly, you let go of Jimin’s hand.

“Don’t pout.” He laughs and presses a quick, chaste kiss to your mouth. “I’ll wait for you after filming and we can go grab dinner. Italian sound fine?”

“Yes, yes, yes.” You bob your head eagerly. “I’m literally dying for carbs. Italian sounds more than perfect.”

“Good.” 

You can’t resist sneaking in one last peck before Jimin retreats behind the cameras and you’re pulled to stand in front of a granite kitchen tabletop. Director Ryu is waiting for you, Hoseok already by his side.

From close-up, your co-star looks even more striking. The make-up artist’s work highlights his features without going overboard. The lines of his face are sharp, like every single one has been meticulously drawn. What usually would give someone a hostile and unapproachable impression is balanced out by the liveliness that lights up his eyes and his wide smile that looks almost too big for his face.

“It’ll start in the kitchen and then we’ll work out way to the bedroom.” Director Ryu points down the hallway. “I was thinking of keeping it all in the bedroom but nothing screams domesticity more than kitchen scenes, right?”

“Uh-huh.” You give a polite nod. Next to you, Hoseok coughs into his fist.

“Depending on how this goes we might have to take several takes - just keep that in mind.”

That’s nothing out of the ordinary. Sex scenes are never filmed in one take. There’s always one thing or another - a smoke break, a flaccid dick, a lighting fixture that needs to be changed. A 45 minute porn movie is the result of the editing team that painstakingly goes through, cuts and assembles hours of footage.

“Remember,” Director Ryu instructs, one hand cocked on his hips. “You’re still stuck in that honeymoon phase. All the two of you want to do is fuck like horny bunnies but your husband’s been away all day. Both of you have been waiting for this reunion for hours and hours. I want to feel that level of tension, got it?”

Hoseok nods like a dutiful student, his expression comically serious. You’d laugh if it wasn’t so inappropriate.

“Yep. Ok. Got it.”

You just want the director to stop talking so that you can get this over with quickly. The monologue is just delaying the inevitable.

Director Ryu spends extra minutes setting up the scene, emphasizing how in love and passionate the two of you should behave, describing how long you’ve been wanting to try for a baby, going into explicit detail about what the sex scenes should convey to the viewers. He just goes on and on and on with no end it sight.

At this point even Hoseok is growing restless. His feet refuse to stay still and his eyes dart around the room as if his attention is drawn elsewhere. It’s Hoseok’s constant fidgeting that draws Director Ryu out of his monologue. He finally senses that there’s a unanimous decision to start filming and retires behind the camera to settle himself in his appointed chair.

Hoseok shares a long look with you. “Is he always like that?”

“God, I hope not.” You lower your voice to whisper, “Seokjin - my agent - he says apparently Director Ryu wanted to make a career off of documentaries once he graduated from film school but quickly switched genres once he saw how little filming the mating habits of koalas was earning him.”

“Ah,” Hoseok nods conspiratorially before his features shift into something more serious. “Hey. Before we start, is there anything you’re not comfortable with? I know this scene is supposed to lean towards vanilla but you never know... I’d rather make sure. Just in case.”

You blink, taken aback. Hard limits aren’t really discussed outside of hardcore scenes. Sure, everyone is given a safeword before shoots begin but even screaming out “STOP!” or “Can we take a break from filming?” is enough to put the filmed scene on hold.

“Ah... No. I’m okay. But thanks for asking.” A moment passes and you add, “Is there - are there any words or kinks that bother you?”

Hoseok shakes his head. “Not for this one. Just - if there’s anything you’d rather me not say or do, don’t hesitate.”

You nod in reply, not sure of what else to say. Unfortunately your past experiences with men have made you suspicious of any form of flattery or kindness.

Soon, though, you relax. What reason is there for Hoseok to deceive you? Maybe he still has that rookie mindset. You can relate to the eagerness and the desire to do well you’d had in your early days of filming.

“Alright. Good luck, Hoseok.”

His smile is so bright that it erases your previous doubts. Surely someone with ill-intentions wouldn’t be able to smile like that, right? You return a tentative smile of your own. Something akin to understanding seems to pass between you. Although you don’t know Hoseok and he doesn’t know you, you trust him enough for this scene.

The moment is broken when Director Ryu directs Hoseok to wait outside the camera’s line of vision and you’re left alone in front of the kitchen stove.

Any moment now, you think. A telltale silence falls over the staff members as they all anticipate the director’s signal for the scene to start.

The first few seconds are always tricky. You’re no actress. There’s no switch inside of you that flips on and off as soon as the director commands “ACTION!” and “CUT!”. The world around you doesn’t fade out, your ‘porn star persona’ doesn’t claw its way out from within you and lunge for the nearest available dick. Sometimes, if you’re not attracted to your onscreen partner, you find your mind drifting off, making an inventory of your fridge and wondering what you’ll be able to cook up for dinner with two eggs and leftover rice.

When Director Ryu shouts “ACTION!” and slams down the plate, you freeze up. Usually you have an idea of what to say or do, but the words and actions won’t come to you this time.

Someone behind the cameras lets out a light cough. Oh right, you blink down at the simmering pot of water in front of you. The cameras are recording you making an utter fool out of yourself.

The spike of humiliation forces you into action. You’re more professional than this, damn it. You give the water a tentative stir, movements wooden and stiff. It’s hard to concentrate. All you can do is watch as the water simmers to a boil, the sound of bubbling water like a roaring current in your ears.

A door creaks open, signalling your onscreen husband’s return home.

To your horror, you find that you’re unable to move, as if your limbs had forgotten their primary function.

Before the scene had started, you had envisioned yourself throwing yourself into the arms of your loving husband and welcoming him home with a shower of kisses and words of affection. You had internally rehearsed it, had even thought of what you could say to him between pecks, but the reality is far removed from what you had practiced.

“Darling?” Hoseok’s voice is soft but loud enough for you to hear him over the angry sounds of boiling water. The vowels he uses are rounded, different from the bright pep in his tone from earlier. 

You want to respond but your tongue feels like lead, too heavy in your mouth to articulate and form the proper reply. What are you supposed to call him, anyway? Honey? Hoseok? A nickname derived from his name? What do newlywed spouses call each other? Why couldn’t you give this more thought before the cameras began rolling?

Panic balloons inside you, threatening to burst. For a terrifying and mortifying second, you think that you’ve gone and ruined everything. The muscles in your shoulders bunch up and you half-expect the director to shout ‘CUT!’, give you a public scolding for missing your cue and berate you for your overall ineptitude.

Hoseok’s arms wrap around your middle before you have time to agonize any further. Just as you suspected, his arms are strong, the lean muscles flexing as he readjusts his hold around your waist. What you don’t expect, however, is the unadulterated warmth he radiates. His body burns hot; even through the layers of clothing separating the two of you, his warmth seeps through. But it’s strangely comfortable, not unlike basking in the afternoon sun during the last days of summer. You let yourself melt into his embrace.

“You’re not even going to say hi?”

With your back turned to him, you can’t be sure, but you imagine the pout playing at his lips. He tucks his chin in the crook of your shoulder. If he feels any awkwardness, he doesn’t let it show.

Miraculously, your mouth seems to be in working order again. It takes you a few seconds too long to find the appropriate answer, but it finally comes before the director can cut in to make any remarks.

“If I turn around right now, I won’t be able to keep my hands off of you,” you explain. “And - I don’t want to ruin our dinner.”

Just to keep up the pretense, you add a handful of spaghetti into the pot of water.

Hoseok lets out a hum from behind you. He’s standing close enough for you to feel the vibrations low in his throat.

“I hate it,” he says after a stretch of silence.

You pout. “What? My cooking? What’s wrong with it?”

“No, silly. I hate -” he sighs, buries his face in your neck before looking back up so the camera can capture his expression. “I hate not being with you. I missed this.”

He hugs you from behind before kissing your neck. It starts off innocuous - his lips pressing short, chaste kisses down the column of your throat. Quickly, however, his mouth lingers on your skin.

“Ah - don’t. I’m cooking!” you shriek when his teeth scrape over a sensitive spot under your jaw. Your protests are half-hearted and go by unacknowledged. The pot of pasta could overflow right now and no one would care, least of all you.

Hoseok noses your neck while he tightening his grip around your waist, the movement bringing his hips flush against your lower back. You give the pot in front of you a very unenthusiastic stir, attention focused instead on the way his lips tenderly skim the surface of your skin, testing and teasing. The sensation feels nice - and keeps your mind off of the several cameras directed your way.

“But I went all day missing my princess,” he sighs, open mouthed against your neck. “Spent all day thinking about you.”

“Y-you did?”

“Mhm.” He gives your exposed shoulder a peck. Then another. “Thought about your cute little laugh.”

His line catches you off guard. Your mouth opens but no sound comes out.

Porn is often crude and to the point. You’re used to men complimenting your body parts or praising your skills in bed. You’d never minded, either. But Hoseok’s choice of words make you eager in a different way.

“What else?”

“Well, your cooking, for sure. Without you I’d be eating out of ramyeon packets for breakfast, lunch and dinner.”

You let out a snort.

“That’s true. Your cooking is so horrible it’s offensive.”

“Hey now. Don’t be mean.” He pokes your cheek before pinching your chin to turn your head towards him. “I can cook a decent omelet.”

Hoseok’s a good few inches taller than you so you have to strain your neck to be able to look him in the eyes. The slight discomfort barely registers. You’re too transfixed by the way he stares at you. It’s hard to place the expression because you’ve never seen it on a fellow actor before. Normally, the men you work with stare you down with hungry and lustful intent, but there’s none of that in Hoseok’s gaze.

The expression on his face cannot be described as innocent, either. He licks his lips, drawing your attention to the pretty lines of his mouth delicately curved into a smile.

“I missed the way you feel in my arms.” His voice sounds deeper, this time. “I missed holding you close to me. Kissing you. Reminding you how much I love you. I missed the look in your eyes when - “

“When?”

He smirks. “You sure you want to hear it? What if you can’t keep your hands off of me after? I don’t want to be held responsible for soggy pasta.”

“Hoseok,” you whine, one of your hands reaching down to slap at the hold around your stomach. 

He tightens his hold around you and your breath hitches, suddenly all too aware of how firm his body feels behind you. The smirk on his face widens as he leans forward to confess his next words.

“I was thinking about how I miss the look on your face whenever I make your pussy sloppy with my cum.”

“Hoseok!”

One moment he’s crooning sweet words of affection, the next he’s spitting out filth. The quick back-and-forth gives you whiplash but you can’t say you dislike it. Unlike the tired and overused clichéd porn scenarios you’ve filmed in the past, Hoseok’s unpredictable behavior has the advantage of keeping you on your toes.

“You missed it too, hm?” He kisses your neck, lips soft and warm. “Kept thinking about how pretty you sound. So, so pretty. Especially when I give you what you want.”

“How would you know what I want?” You turn your head forwards so you can pretend to check up on the cooking pasta. “You were away all day.”

Hoseok’s eyes flash dangerously.

“How would I know?” he parrots back, his tone sweet and mocking. Something about it sends tingles down your spine and has you standing up straighter. “I always know what my pretty wife wants. I know because your body can’t lie to me.”

His hands wander, one of them inching up the material of your frilly apron to reach between your breasts. The movement is slow enough for a camera to zoom in and follow its trail. Hoseok rests his hand on your left breast and gives it a squeeze.

“See?” He repeats the action. “Your heart’s racing like crazy.”

You swallow audibly, finding it hard to come up with a witty riposte.

He continues with a chuckle, “You can’t deny it, can you? Your body’s too honest for your own good. It’s okay. You don’t have to say you missed me. I know.”

His self-assured way of talking makes it easier for you to react. This - the cockiness, the playfulness - you’re familiar with.

You roll your eyes and continue to give the pot in front of you a few additional stirs only for your breath to hitch when he starts to grind his hips against your lower back in time with your stirs.

Fuck is your only coherent thought. He rolls his hips so well it’s impossible not to imagine them doing something else. Your bottom lip grows numb from how hard you bite it.

“Of course I missed you.” You keep your tone as light as possible, determined not to show that his words and actions affect you.

Hoseok’s eyes narrow. He removes his hands from around you but keeps his front pressed against your back. He smiles again, dimples poking through.

“You don’t sound convinced... That’s fine.” It sounds like the beginning of a challenge and you soon learn why.

His nimble fingers play with the knot of your apron and you tense, expecting him to make quick work of your clothes and dive straight into dessert, so to speak. Once again, he surprises you by leaving the apron alone, hands falling to his sides.

His knees hit the floor, the noise startling you. Before you have the chance to truly react, he’s quick to pull your hips backwards until your back is arched. The sudden change in position forces you to adjust your stance so as to keep your balance.

“Hoseok?” you start to question but he cuts you off with a tut and light smack to your ass.

“You just keep your eye on dinner like you were doing before.” His fingers play with the hem of your short dress, stretching the fabric until it bunches up around your hips and leaves your lacy thong on display. “You can do that, right?”

Flustered by the position he’s maneuvered you into, with your hips thrust back obscenely, legs splayed wide and pussy on show, you grip the wooden spoon in your hand with more force than necessary. “It’s just pasta. I can manage.”

Maybe you sound less indifferent than intended because Hoseok seems more amused than offended by your feinted nonchalance. He barks out a laugh, his hands spreading the meat of your cheeks aside to get a better view of your lace-covered bits.

Privately, you wish you could witness his reaction. If there’s anything that turns you on, it’s knowing how much someone else wants you. If feels good to know that you’re wanted and desired. Even if fucking is part of your job description, the act needs to be mutually enjoyable for you to be completely satisfied.

“Sure.” The lilt in his voice is so sweet that it borders on condescending. “While you do that, I think I’ll have my appetizer.”

It’s corny, overused and a little degrading - exactly the type of one-liner you’d ordinarily find in porn - but he gives you no time to call him out for it. As soon as he’s done talking, he wags his tongue out and drags it across the red lace, and the repeated up and down motions quickly dampen your panties.

You notice with great frustration that he takes care to avoid your clit, focusing instead on licking broad stripes over slit and, to your surprise, around your rim.  He doesn’t stop until your underwear drips with the accumulation of your essence and his saliva. The soaked lace rubs against you, the rough texture adding pressure to your most sensitive zones, until you can’t tell if the extra sensation is a blessing or a curse. Your hips jerk forward every so often, unsure if you’d rather lean into or escape his torturous games. Because as amazing as Hoseok’s tongue feels, you know your body well enough to be able to tell that this particular tempo won’t bring you to your peak.

An appetizer, he had called it. That’s exactly what the teasing ministrations feel like - a small sampling before the main course. It’s satisfying and maddening in its own way. Good, but not enough to satisfy your ravenous appetite.

He unearths himself from your dripping core, chin shiny with your juices.

“Keep focus,” he instructs as he slots two fingers inside of you. You’re wet enough that they slide in without too much difficulty, the stretch making your stomach clench. “I thought you said you knew how to cook pasta.”

Against your will, you force yourself to focus on the bubbling water in front of you. As much as you want to push your hips back and ride his fingers until you’re pushed over the edge, you can’t take the humiliation of messing up pasta - even if it is for the sake of a porn scenario.

It’s fucking pasta! You have to be seriously inept to mess up such a simple dish...

But what should have been an effortless task becomes more challenging than expected. Hoseok refuses to go easy on you. If anything, your stubborn silence is all the motivation he needs to thrust his fingers inside of you harder, curving them at an angle that makes your knees wobble. You struggle to keep any incriminating noises at bay but despite your best efforts, several muffled moans slip out one after the other.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, the logical side of you points out how dangerous all of this is. What if, during your impending orgasm, your body seizes up and knocks the boiling water everywhere during the process? You quickly switch off the gas stove at the thought. Better be safe than sorry.

Just then, Hoseok adds his tongue to the mix, his fingers relentless in their pursuit of your pleasure. You bite back a curse as the wooden spoon slips from your hold and clatters to the floor.

“Ah fu - Oh God,” you stutter, hands holding on to the edge of the counter for dear life.

You’ve been eaten out God knows how many times in your life, but not many have instinctively known what really gets you going. Hoseok laps at your core, tongue collecting the moisture that seeps through the fabric of your ruined panties, while his fingers scissor you open for his cock.

Your stomach clenches as you imagine how well he’d fill you up. Who the hell would ever want pasta for dinner when Hoseok could feed you his cock instead? Definitely not you, that’s for sure.

It’s easy to picture it. All he’d need to do is stand up, unzip his pants and spear you open with a practiced roll of his hips. Maybe he’d make you toss a salad while he fucks you from behind, slapping your ass whenever you forget to keep stirring the ingredients together. Or perhaps he’d let you ride his dick on the kitchen floor, too impatient to make it to a more comfortable surface.

Your imagination knows no bounds. Once you start, you can’t stop thinking of more lascivious scenarios, each one more daring and debauched than the last. The heat between your legs becomes unbearable and still, you ache for more.

Hoseok pulls away from the apex of your thighs and snorts, the sound pulling you out of your depraved thoughts. The pace of his thrusting slows down without stopping completely, his fingers still pressed deep within you. Your arms tremble as they try to keep you upright, knuckles white from the strength of your grip around the counter’s edge. You exhale shakily.

A whine works its way into your voice. “Why - why’d you stop?”

Ignoring your protests, he pops his fingers out of you and indulges in one last lick of your swollen pussy, before gathering to his feet. He rolls down your dress back over your bum and peers over your shoulder, acting as nothing had ever happened.

“Thought you said you’d take care of dinner, hm?” Hoseok has the gall to hum in disappointment.

Your mouth opens in outrage. “You!”

Hoseok pouts. “I thought we said you wouldn’t blame me for any soggy pasta.”

“You’re impossible,” you say without any real heat to your words.

“But you love me that way.”

He smiles as he leans in to kiss you, lips sticky and warm. You follow the pace he sets as best you can, unaccustomed to the way he takes his time - like you’re a delicacy that demands to be savored and not gulped down. On-screen kisses are usually rushed, messy, with too much tongue. They’re a scripted affair, more for show than out of real affection. When men tuck back your hair behind your ear or palm your cheek, it’s only to better angle your face for the camera.

There is something intimate about the way he holds you, the way he looks at you. Inwardly, you can't help but admire his acting skills. There’s something tender about the way he handles you that’s distinctly different from any of your previous onscreen partners. Sure, you’ve shot vanilla sex scenes before, but never of this variety. None of the male actors’ performances have made you wish, even fleetingly, foolishly, that the scene was real.

Hoseok pulls up for air before your mind can wander off completely, his panting mouth a hairsbreadth away. Lips touching but not quite.

Blearily, you blink your eyes open. You’re close enough that your noses brush against one another, your breaths mingling together. Hoseok’s eyes remain closed throughout, like he doesn’t want the moment to end. He looks so content that you can’t bring yourself to do anything else but melt further into his embrace, gaze drinking in the minute details of his face - like the tiny moles dotting his cheekbone and upper lip and the pretty curve of his eyes.

“And cut!”

You both jump away from each other, startled. For a second there, the storyline you’d been instructed to follow had slipped from your mind. You’re unsure if the lapse in judgement is good or bad but you don’t let the question linger in your thoughts. You’ll have plenty of time to dissect your performance at a later time.

“Good, good. That wasn’t what I was expecting but I don’t think anyone has any objections?” Director Ryu claps his hands. “Fifteen minute break sound good everyone? Then we’ll relocate to the bedroom to shoot the next part.”

There’s a general hum of agreement from the crew members. Chairs and various other equipment scrape the floor as the personnel prepare to migrate to the other room for filming. Jimin’s gaze meets yours briefly but all he can do is smile weakly in your direction before he’s ordered to help push some of the equipment down the hall.

Someone comes up to you with a bottle of water while another steps closer to blot the beads of sweat near your hairline and reapply a layer of lipstick. The make-up artist knits her brows in concentration until she’s satisfied with the touch-ups. She then moves on to Hoseok, make-up palette and brush at the ready, and grumbles loudly about the sticky residue covering his face. You hear Hoseok bellow a laugh, the sound so infectious that even the make-up artist joins in. 

You sip your water through a straw, careful not to smudge your freshly applied lipstick, and check your phone for any missed messages.

“Was all of that okay?”

“Hm?” You look up and are surprised to see Hoseok stare at you expectantly. “I, uh, know some girls aren’t into ass play. I’m sorry. I should’ve asked before jumping the gun but I figured - since you said there wasn’t anything major you were adverse to filming...”

His voice trails off.

“I liked it.” The admission is an easy one. “It did take me by surprise, but - I don’t have any complaints.”

“Ah, really?” Hoseok’s mouth corners upturn in relief. “That’s good to know. I was thinking - for the next scene - what if - I mean, are you okay with calling me Daddy?”

You tilt your head as you mull over the proposition.

“Daddy?”

“It’s not - you don’t have to. But listening to Director Ryu go on earlier made me think of something we could do. I think it fits well with the general idea. What do you think?”

“I’m fine with it.” Using the title doesn’t make you squeamish so you shrug in compliance. It’s not the first you’ve had to incorporate a daddy kink into the scene and it likely won’t be the last. You don’t see why you wouldn’t or shouldn’t do it with Hoseok. “I’ll follow your lead like I’ve been doing.”

It’s only as you’re following him towards the bedroom that you recall that you’ve yet to get to the crux of the scene - the damned impregnation kink. Even though you’re considerably less nervous than you’d been an hour or two ago, the thought of begging someone you barely know for something so intimate makes your stomach flip-flop. You don’t even have unprotected sex with Jimin and he’s your boyfriend.

Speaking of Jimin, you try to sneak in a peck or two before filming but Director Ryu intercepts you before you can make a beeline to where Jimin’s stationed behind a camera.

“How are you feeling?” The overhead light reflects off his round glasses and makes it impossible to hold eye contact unless you want to become semi-permanently blind.

“Good---”

“Wonderful. Well, we’ve positioned cameras here, here, and over there. There’ll be another camera man who’ll film with a handheld camera for closeups. Just keep that in mind. I know we’re giving you free-range to do what you feel is best and most natural but I’d hate to ask you to re-shoot because the camera couldn’t capture the both of you properly.”

You nod and he continues, “Also - please remember that you’re acting as a horny young married couple. I remember at that age I was up for anything, you get what I’m saying? People think just because you put a ring on your finger the sex automatically becomes stale. Fuck that. Show people married couples are freaks in the sheet.”

“Uh... Alright. I’ll keep that in mind.”

He claps a hand over your shoulder. “That’s the spirit.”

Freaks in the sheet? What did he expect you to do? Try out all the sex positions in the Kama Sutra?

“What did he want now?” Hoseok leans over to whisper once you’re seated comfortably on the bed. You’re hoping the mics don’t pick up the conversation but would rather not take the risk of being overheard bad-mouthing the director.

Shrugging, you say, “Just that this scene should be spicier.”

Hoseok raises his brow, lips quirking into a smirk. “That so?”

The same cockiness you’d caught a glimpse of during your escapade in the kitchen is back and the memory you associate it with makes the back of your neck prickle with heat. You clear your throat and avert your eyes.

Thankfully Director Ryu interrupts before Hoseok has the chance to fluster you further. You follow each of the director’s voiced directives until you’re comfortably seated on Hoseok’s lap, dress hitched around your waist because of how far your knees are spread on either side of Hoseok’s thighs. There’s a quick, last minute adjustment as Director Ryu ensures that the camera in the left corner picks up on everything it’s supposed to.

Satisfied, he lets you take the reins from there, then gives the cameras the signal to begin rolling.

You don’t waste a moment, taking his earlier commentary to heart. It’s your turn to pepper kisses all over Hoseok’s golden skin, leaving faint traces of rouge behind like an artist signing their own painting. You stop a few times to admire your work. Lip prints and lavender bite marks color his skin and the sight awakens a possessive streak you didn’t know you had.

Your enthusiasm to mark him up gets a little out of hand.

"Mhm." Hoseok grunts when you lick over a sensitive spot under his jaw. "Slow down, princess. There's no rush. We have all night."

He cups his chin between his hands so you have no choice but to relent and direct your gaze up at him. You’re pleased to see that he’s not completely indifferent to your touch; despite his instructions to take it slow, the smoldering look in his eyes tell a different story.

He runs the pad of his thumb over your lower lip, the pink flesh no doubt swollen. You take the digit in your mouth, unprompted, and run your tongue against its underside, wishing that his cock could fill your mouth instead.

Hoseok makes a noise low in his throat, not quite a growl but close.

"And I intend to take my time with you." The look he levels you with promises a night full of mind-numbing pleasure. Ribbons of heat curl around the base of your spine. "Want to make you feel good."

"You do," you agree, words muffled around the thumb you refuse to let go of.

You take a hold of his wrist and free your mouth, only to quickly replace it with his forefinger and middle finger. The stretch of two digits makes you moan lewdly.

Hoseok’s eyes darken. He lets you play for a few more seconds before he takes back control, his fingers pushing deeper into your mouth until they hit the back of your throat. You swallow down a gag, but his fingers don’t let you rest for long. He drags them over the flat of your tongue, watching as spit dribbles down past the sides of your mouth, and repeats the motion, pumping into your mouth steadily like he would a cock.

As nice as it feels to be filled with his fingers, whether in your cunt or mouth, you’re ready for more. Subconsciously, your hips grind down in his lap, shifting this way and that until you’re perfectly seated over his hardened length.

Drool is pushed out of your mouth as Hoseok squeezes a third fingers in with the other two. You suck harder, hoping that all your efforts will spur Hoseok into finally fucking you. The knowledge that he has to, at one point or another, keeps you from whining and begging pathetically for his cock. You can exercise patience if you put your mind to it; you’re sure of it. 

Your on-screen husband decides to test that resolve.

His other hand starts to wander south, his fingers toying with the short hem of your dress that’s been rucked up even higher with all your rocking and grinding. The movement of your hips slow, your brain unable to keep up with the stimuli coming in all directions.

A crack resounds in the room, the sharp sound startling you more than the sting that accompanies it. Hoseok’s palm rubs over the heated area, only inflaming it further.

“And who told you you could stop?”

The second slap is notably harsher than the first, and your hips automatically lurch forward hoping perhaps to lessen the impact of the sting.

You know he doesn’t expect a verbal answer; his second hand keeps your mouth plugged up, making any attempt at talking unintelligible. It doesn’t stop you from trying, only because you know the muffled protest are greatly appreciated amongst viewers. And if the way Hoseok’s digs his fingers into your smarting ass cheek is any indicator, you’re confident that he also enjoys your squirming and messy display.

“Keep moving, princess. I need both your holes nice and wet.”

The way his voice dips an octave makes your stomach twist in arousal. You long to tell him that you’re sufficiently wet enough for him to slide his cock inside right away but all you manage are pitiful garbled words.

He raises an eyebrow at your delayed response and your hips move before he can smack the globes of your ass for a third time. You have an inkling he’ll only hit harder with the intention of leaving marks of his own all over your skin.

It’s a careful balancing act, but you figure it out as you go. Bounce too fast and the fingers in your mouth will make you gag. Move too slowly for his liking and he won’t hesitate to add to the collection of handprints on your ass.

You lose track of how long he makes you play this game. Your mind focuses on sucking while keeping your jaw slack enough to accomadate the width of three digits. Drool pools down your chin, and you’re certain whatever the make-up artist had done to your lips is now ruined. Worse off are your panties. At the stage they’re at now, you’ll have no choice but to throw them out. Hoseok’s pants might need be as unsalveagable as your thong, you think inwardly, judging by the large, dark wet spot you’re currently sitting on.

“Mmh, good girl.” 

He gently slides his fingers out, strings of saliva attached. He hums in satisfaction at the lewd sight and rubs his fingers across your swollen lips and shiny chin, spreading the fluids and what’s left of your lipstick over your mouth. You swallow, mouth sore from being used roughly for so long.

“This hole is sufficiently wet, I think,” he appraises, eyelashes fluttering before he casts a long look down your body until it reaches where you’re seated on his clothed erection. “Let’s check this one too.”

The way he smirks at you but makes no move to check himself lets you know that he expects you to do the work.

You let your hands trail down your body slowly, cupping your breasts as you do, enjoying his hooded gaze and the way his cock twitches beneath you a bit too much. When you reach the hem of your dress, you lift your hips up to pull the fabric up to your navel giving an unobstructed view of your lace-covered pussy.

Hoseok stare intensifies but you don’t feel any embarrassment from the scrutiny. “Well you certainly look ripe.”

His fingers toy with the delicate string of lace around your hips. He lets the material snap against your skin a few times before he grows bored or impatient with his own game and gives the lace a harsh yank. It tears easily and the leftover scraps fall into his lap.

“... But just to be sure -” His hands grip your waist and manhandle you onto your hands and knees. Your head spins from how suddenly he’s moved you around to his liking that your arms give out and you fall face first into the clean smelling bed sheets. “Gotta give my favorite hole of yours a better look.”

His hands hoist your hips at a higher angle so that your soaked center is visible for the cameras to pan onto. Hoseok slides in two fingers easily, then a third. Loud, obscene noises echo in the otherwise quiet room, noises that are quickly joined by your unabashed moans of pleasure.

Your core is on fire. Hoseok’s fingers are just as good as you remember them to be. No, better. The three fingers pump into you in measured strokes, the drag slow enough to keep you dangling over the edge without pushing you over.

Hoseok spanks your ass, hissing between his teeth as you clench around his fingers, no doubt imagining your inner walls hugging his cock instead. 

“Christ. You’re always such a soft, wet little thing down here,” he croons in dulcet tones. “I could play with you all day.”

You thrust your hips back, shameless.

“Please! Please Daddy, I’ll be so good, I just - please - I nuh, need it. Need your cock fucking me full. I’ll take it so good, you know I will. Want you to - please! Daddy, I need your cum.”

“Shit.”

He fumbles in his haste to flip you onto your back. He crawls over your body, and you watch fascinated as he dives down to kiss you like a man starved. He looks almost feral, pupils so dilated the brown of his eyes is almost gone.

Heat blooms in your stomach as he kisses you deeply. The press of his lips against yours renders you a little less coherent as time ticks on, every brush of his tongue making you a little more dizzy with want.

Everything about him burns. It feels like being kissed by the sun itself. Every caress, every lick and nip leaves you feverish all over, like your drunk off his touch.

"Let me," he says, pinching the zipper of your dress between his thumb and index finger.

You wrap your hand around his and guide his movements. His gaze never leaves yours and it makes shivers run down your back. Even though you're the one controlling his movements for the time being, the look in his eyes makes it abundantly clear that the control you wield is only temporary.

When your dress finally falls open, you try not to preen too much under the reverent look that falls over Hoseok’s face. Your back arches a little off the bed, pert breasts thrust towards him - an appealing offer he doesn’t dare refuse.

Hoseok circles a thumb around your nipple, rubbing and flicking until it hardens into a stiff peak.

You wonder, distantly, how this looks like from the outside looking in. The man in front of you is a stranger in all senses of the word. Yet the way he touches you - like there are years of built-up affection behind every gesture - makes you second guess everything you know.

"Fuckin' love your tits.” He sighs, awe reflected in the dark of his eyes. "Love playing with them. Love how wet it gets you, how hungry your little pussy gets."

"Please,” you mewl, his words igniting a new wave of heat. It rolls over your body, leaving no extremity untouched. You burn from the inside out with raw desire.

You squeeze your own breasts in a bid to get him to touch you more. Hoseok merely chuckles, finding your desperation entertaining. One of his hands reach down between you to play with the wetness that clings to your core like a second skin and it takes everything inside of you not to rub yourself against him like a bitch in heat.

"What is it, princess?" His lips quirk into a smirk like he already knows the answer. "You're looking quite needy. How did you manage to hold it in all this time?"

“Stop teasing,” you growl, the lack of friction making you irritable. "I need your cock. And why - why do you have so many fucking clothes on?”

He chuckles, chest vibrating in amusement.

“Take them off,” you insist. Then, you grudgingly tack on a “Please” for good measure.

As hot as Hoseok looks like in his “work clothes”, he looks infinitely better naked, you decide as he chucks off his button-down shirt and gets started on his leather belt. With each new piece of clothing that gets discarded, the anticipation building inside of you skyrockets.

You take a moment to soak in his lithe figure, not bothering to hide how affected you are by the view. He’s nicely sculpted; you can tell right away that he takes care of himself. Swimming or dancing maybe? You hesitate between the two. His muscles are lean, nothing like the bulging biceps and thick forearms typical of the stereotypical gym rat.

Hoseok’s dick is, unsurprisingly, as pretty as the rest of him. It’s long and curved, a prominent vein running along its underside. The thatch of pubic hair that rests above his dick is neatly trimmed, the dark hair contrasting with the tan skin of his abdomen and the rosy hue of his erect length. Your eyes swoop down his thighs, licking your lips unwittingly at the alluring sight presented to you.

“Daddy,” you say, the whine in your voice unmistakable. “Want your cock.”

For a brief moment you’re tricked into believing he’s given in to your demand, but find yourself disappointed when he contents himself with rubbing his hardened member between your thighs, the glide slippery thanks to the copious amount of your essence that’s pooled there.

“Like this?” Hoseok asks, tone too sweet to be anything but mocking. The head of his cock bumps into your swollen bundle of nerves one, two, three times. You keen, your hips canting upwards in a bid to get more friction. “Want to rut against me until you get nice and creamy?”

He uses his right hand to spread your slick lower lips so that he can nestle his cock snuggly between them. He rolls his hips, the undulations fluid and dirty, and smirks at how you moan brokenly beneath him.

Your stomach clenches. “Need it in me."

"You'll get it," he promises after kissing you sloppily, lips sucking on your tongue. His breath is ragged but his voice steady, firm. "I'll give you everything you need. Make you cum so many times you know who owns this sweet pussy."

He speaks so surely, carries himself with so much confidence, that in the moment you can't help but believe him. The line between staged and reality blurs and you find yourself nodding eagerly, begging him as best you can to give you what you want.

The first tentative push of his dick wipes you clean of coherency. He slowly eases himself into you, reaching forward to lace his fingers with yours. It’s - more intimate than you expected. He squeezes your hand tightly in his when he finally manages to bury his entire length inside of you.

“Perfect.” He kisses the side of your temple before drawing back, his hard cock dragging deliciously against you. With a fluid hip thrust, he slides back in and you feel the stretch moreso this time around. The curvature of his cock has him pressing up against your walls in a way that robs you of breath.

"Daddy! Hh - ah, oh God. You're too b-big."

"Mhm, that's right. Daddy's fat cock is splitting you open. I'll plug you up with it later so none of my cum will leak out."

Every time he pulls back, your pussy clamps down tightly around him, unwilling to be empty even for a second.

Hoseok’s nostrils flare in arousal. He grabs your left tit and squeezes, using it as a hold to better fuck into you. With his body hovering above yours, his hand staking claim of your breast, and his cock drilling into you, you have nowhere to go. Pinned to the bed and unable to do anything but take everything he delivers, you wrap your legs around his waist and moan.

"Daddy's gonna fuck some babies into you,” he rasps, his eyes dark pools of lust. "Gonna breed your sweet pussy over and over. You'll be so full of my cum that you'll be pregnant with my babies for sure."

“Oh fuck. Yes, yes - oh my nhhg.” You sob as Hoseok drives his cock into you with more force. While the piston of his hips isn’t rushed, he pulls out to the tip only to slam back in to the hilt every time. The stretch burns in a good way and the sound of your moans are rivaled only by the wet, obscene sounds from your coupling.

"Fuck. Your cunt just - shit." He cracks down a hand against your ass and you shriek, not expecting it. "You're so tight, holy shit."

"Want it. Want you to fuck me good."

"I will," he says lowly, the promise reverberating deep in his chest. "I'll fuck you until you're begging me to stop. Fill you up so much, you'll be bloated with it."

And it should freak you out, the imagery he paints with his words, but the thought of laying there and him fucking you so well that you won't be able to feel your legs has you gushing out more wetness.

"Mmmh.” Maybe he can feel how soaked you are because he comments, “This is my favorite hole of yours, princess. Always so fuckin' drenched. I bet we’ll have to throw out the sheets again." He chuckles. "You must be hungry for it, right? I made you wait so long. No wonder your pussy is clenching like that. It needs a big, fat cock to milk dry."

“I missed it,” you cry, body skidding a little higher up the duvet each time he fucks into you. Your eyelashes flutter, lids heavy. It’s hard to concentrate, let alone form words, when your brain feels like complete mush. “I - I need your cum. Daddy, please.”

"Don't worry, gorgeous. I've got you. Daddy will feed your cute pussy his cock."

"Th-thank you, Daddy."

"Love you," he murmurs. It’s a quiet confession, lost somewhere in between the mattress creaks, the loud slaps of Hoseok’s hips slamming against yours, and the string of whimpers and groans pulled from your throat. It’s quiet but you hear it.

One of your hands reach up to pull him down by the neck so that your lips meet. He kisses you open-mouthed. It’s a filthy kiss, one that makes you moan into his mouth. You’re certain that if you had been standing your knees would have wobbled.

When you let up for air, Hoseok’s staring you down, his red-bitten lips plump and shiny.

"Love this pussy. So sweet and wet for me. Always for fucking swollen, like it's waiting to get a pounding. Love that. Love how eager you are to be bred by my thick cock."

The impregnation kink is - a bit much. You've never really imagined having kids, at least not anytime soon. You can’t even keep your plants alive for fuck’s sake.

But the way he suggests it is nothing like what you had imagined. His suggestions are - vulgar and primal. Like the urge to fuck you full of his cum is biological and he can’t smother it.

For a moment, you let yourself entertain the thought of being his breeding bitch - of laying on your back and letting him fuck load after load of cum inside you until your pussy physically can't accommodate any more. Of not having any other worries or thoughts but take his cock every moment of the day.

"You just got tighter.” He curses under his breath, voice thick with arousal.  "Such a warm little hole. Taking everything I give it. You'd take anything if it meant getting bred by me, right?"

“Yes, yes,” you chant, pleasure coiling inside of you. “Give me more! I need it."

"Shit. You can't handle more, princess," he tries to reason. "Daddy needs to be gentle with you. Your hole is so small, it'll hurt if I go harder."

"Daddy promised to fuck me.” You whine, uncaring if you sound too bratty and demanding. "B- Breed my hole. It's yours. Puh-please use me."

"God." Hoseok groans, his features twisting in what looks to be pain or pleasure. With tremendous effort he pulls himself out of you and your eyes widen in panic.

“What? Daddy why? I thought—”

He shushes you, reaching somewhere overhead to grab a fluffy pillow. "Just wait a sec, okay? There you go.”

The pillow is placed underneath your hips, keeping them elevated. When Hoseok takes his glistening cock in hand and directs it back in, you both moan in unison.

"Oh fuck, I’m gonna, ah,” you gasp as your mind goes blank with pleasure. The new angle is heaven on earth. It’s almost too much, too quick, but Hoseok’s firm grip on your hips prevents you from alleviating the pressure.

"Take it." He grunts, brows knit together. Every powerful snap of his hips makes your breasts bounce, your breath hitch. Without his hands keeping you pinned down, your head would have collided with the headboard by now. "Be a good princess and take your fucking."

He gains momentum, the new angle facilitating the slide of his cock. He drags the flat of his palm down your thigh and takes a hold of your knee before hoisting it up over your shoulder. The stretch burns the back of your calves but you’re so fucked out, you can’t even find the words to complain.

When you glance up, it’s to fall upon the sight of Hoseok brushing his sweaty fringe out of his face. His cheeks are flushed pink, his skin dewy from the film of perspiration wrapped around his body. Beads of sweat trickle down his heaving chest but he chooses to forgo a quick break. On the contrary, he pushes in deeper like he’s determined to carve out a permanent space for his cock.

"Just gonna keep you here,” he huffs, his eyes the shade of cloudless night sky. “Everyday I'll fuck my cum back inside of you so that you'll always stay full. Want to fuck you forever. Don't want this to end."

"Want it too," you sob, orgasm hovering just on the periphery. "Want you to keep me full forever. Ugh - oh fuck! Hoseok- I'm—"

"You gonna cum around my cock, princess?" He angles his hips downwards, relishing in the wanton cry it elicits. "Gonna give me everything?"

"I'm yours," you profess, jaw slack with pleasure.

It doesn’t take much more for the orgasm to crash over you, Hoseok fucks you through it, groaning as your inner walls spasm around him. He breathes out curses, lip drawn tight between his lips, and doesn’t wait for the last waves of your orgasm to abate to chase after his own end.

In the throes of your pleasure, it doesn’t register then that Hoseok has been holding back all this time. If you thought he had been fucking you hard before, it’s nothing compared to now. He growls and bends forward, forcing your leg to stretch even more, and pushes in and out of you at a pace that makes you scream.

You don’t even have time to come down from your first high that you’re already thrown towards your second. Hoseok plugs your mouth up using two digits, his fingers a firm pressure against your tongue. Your eyes roll back, too overwhelmed from the feeling of being stuffed on both ends.

“God, I could fuck your holes all fucking day.” His rhythm begins to falter as the pressure inside of him grows, his movements frantic and less controlled than they’ve ever been. “How about that? I’ll fuck my princess’ mouth properly next time, stretch it out nicely. Then you’ll let me have your ass, hm?”

Shit, shit, you whimper around his fingers, spit bubbling down the sides on your mouth. It’s scary knowing you have no way to stop the oncoming destruction.

“Yeah, I can tell you love that. You’re gonna cream my dick again, aren’t you?” You can’t tell if the sound he makes is a laugh or a grunt. All you know is that you feel like you’re about to burst. “C’mon, be a good girl and milk my cum out. You better get every last drop.”

There’s an underlying threat in his command. You do your best to obey his words, not wanting to disappoint.

Hoseok pushes his cock in as deep as it can go and grinds his hips into yours. His cock reaches so deep that you swear he might hit your cervix. And considering the nature of the scene you’re portraying, maybe that’s what he intends.

He swipes his fingers through the mess of your cunt, zeroing in on your sensitive clit. He swirls some of your fluids over it before giving it a sharp pinch that makes you cry out. Your hips fly off the pillow but Hoseok is quick to pin you back down. The never-ending drag of his cock along your walls paired with the rough ministrations to your clit is all you need for the pressure inside you to snap.

Above you, Hoseok moans, low and throaty, as he finally dumps rope after rope of warm cum inside of you. He throws his head back, exposing the collar of purplish bruises you sucked onto his skin earlier. Something about the view satisfies you immensely - not that you’d dare voice these thoughts out loud.

Hoseok’s strength gives out and he sags onto your body, his breath warm against your skin. He feels hot, like a furnace, but strangely it’s not uncomfortable. It’s almost like having a personal heating pad; the soreness of your muscles melts away with each passing moment.

Much to your displeasure, your post-coital bliss doesn’t last forever. He's given the signal to pull out and obeys, careful to keep your hips propped up so that his load of cum won’t slosh out. He’s still got a role to play, after all, and the end goal is to get you pregnant.

A cameraman walks forward to zoom in on your swollen and used pussy - physical proof of your exploits. The haze lifts. You become more aware of the people standing on the outskirts of your vision, lighting or sound equipment in hand.

“And that’s a wrap!” Director Ryu calls, his cheeks stretched to accommodate the width of his grin. “Good job everybody!”

You breathe out a sigh, glad your day is finally over. Seokjin walks up to you with a robe for you to throw on and you nod in thanks, slipping the satin gown over your sweaty body.

Around you, the staff start milling about, putting the equipment away and gathering their belongings. You pay them no heed, your attention focused on getting changing into showering and changing into comfortable clothes. You’re in the middle of taming your messy hair when your stomach erupts into growls, reminding you of your hungry state. What you’d do for a big slice of piz—

You remember your date with Jimin and speed up, not wanting to make him wait around for you any longer. It’s not hard to spot him - he’s waiting outside of your dressing room, can of coke in hand.

Something about his smile feels off.

Maybe it’s the way his eye corners don’t crease or the slight strain the curve of his mouth that betray him.

Your expression falls. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing - it’s nothing, don’t worry,” he says after a short, tense moment of silence. The look on your face must have reflected your feelings of doubt because he proceeds by reaching out and pulling you tight against him. Pressed up against his shirt, you can smell the faintest trace of the fabric softener he uses and its scent, familiar and sweet, mollifies you somewhat. “You did amazing today, baby. As usual.”

The compliment you’ve been waiting for makes the sides of your lips rise automatically. “I did, didn’t I?”

“Almost too well.” He hums, one of his hands stroking the back of your head.

“Well, I can’t take all the credit, “ you admit. “The results wouldn’t have been half as good if Hoseok hadn’t been my partner. He’s new in the game but he doesn’t act like it, does he?”

“He doesn’t, no.” Jimin agrees. “He’s... he’s something, alright.”

Your grin widens. All your worrying had been for nothing, in the end. The shoot had gone without a hitch, all of the set members coming up to you with praises of a job well done. You can’t recall the last time any of your performances had elicited such a response post-filming. Even Director Ryu looks particularly pleased, a permanent grin etched onto his features as he reviews the tapes. The knowledge that you’ve done well fills you with a pleasant giddiness that warms your insides and makes your cheeks hurt from how wide your smile stretches.

“Oh good, you’re still here.” Hoseok beams. A damp towel hangs around his neck and the ends of his hair are wet like he’s just gone and doused his head under the bathroom faucet. “I was worried you had left. I just - thanks for earlier. I had a lot of fun! If the chance presents itself, I hope we can work together again.”

“Thank you.” You want to praise him too, know that his performance deserves it, but your next words are cut off before they have the chance to form. Jimin steps closer to you, his grip on your hip tightening suddenly.

When you glance up to check on your boyfriend, he’s sporting a serious expression that you’ve rarely seen before. He doesn’t look angry, but it’s clear as day that he isn’t too pleased with the present situation. His face is closed off, cold, unwelcoming - so drastically different from the usual cherubic sweetness you’re accustomed to seeing.

You’re at a loss for words, unsure of who to address first. What’s going on?

Hoseok senses the sudden change in atmosphere and chooses to tactfully retreat.

“Good work, man.” He nods at Jimin and then shoots you a wave. “See you around sometime, ______ !”

Your eyes follow his exit before you turn to face Jimin again, hoping the smile on your face masks the worry you feel bubbling on the inside.

“Jimin what - I mean, are you sure you're okay?”

Jimin returns a strained smile of his own. “I’m fine.”

Your gaze lands on his right hand that’s still squeezing your waist. It borders on uncomfortable but you try not to let it show. You must not do a very good job at schooling your features because Jimin quickly apologizes for his behavior.

“Sorry.” Jimin lets you go once he notices your discomfort. “I just - I don’t know. You’re right, I’m not acting like myself. I think...seeing you say that stuff and act that way just - I’m not sure why, I guess - Since usually the sex isn’t like that, it caught me off guard.”

“You didn’t like that I acted like I was in love with him.”

“Would anyone?” he shoots back, smile sardonic. “It just looked so convincing in the moment. I guess it got me worked up.”

Sure, Hoseok is hot. If you had to work with him again, you would in a heartbeat. It’s not often you land a colleague you’re so sexually compatible with, who also happens to be so well-mannered and good-looking. It’s like hitting the jackpot, really.

But - just because you’d fuck him again for professional reasons, doesn’t mean that you’re interested in him beyond that.

“Jimin. I don’t want to be with anybody else but you.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I know.” The muscles in his face relax. “I love you.”

“Love you, too.”

.

.

It’s not until later, as he fucks you uncharacteristically hard in the backseat of his car parked in the back lot of the film studio, that you begin to wonder if things really are as idyllic as you believe them to be.

.

.

.

[fishoutofcamelot]

Zombie symbolism in media? Body snatchers? That sounds extremely interesting 👀👀👀

OOOOOOOOOOH ARE YOU READY FOR ME TO RANT? CUZ I’M GONNA RANT BABY. YALL WANNA SEE HOW HARD I CAN HYPERFIXATE???

I’ll leave my ramblings under the cut.

The Bodysnatchers thing is a bit quicker to explain so I’ll start with that. Basically, Invasion of the Body Snatchers was released in 1956, about a small town where the people are slowly but surely replaced and replicated by emotionless hivemind pod aliens. It was a pretty obvious metaphor for the red scare and America’s fear of the ‘growing threat of communism’ invading their society. A communist could look like anyone and be anyone, after all.

Naturally, the bodysnatcher concept got rebooted a few times - Invasion of the Bodysnatchers (1978), Body Snatchers (1993), and The Invasion (2007), just off the top of my head. You’re all probably very familiar with the core concept: people are slowly being replaced by foreign duplicates. 

But while the monster has remained roughly the same, the theme has not. In earlier renditions, Bodysnatchers symbolized communism. But in later renditions, the narratives shifted to symbolize freedom of expression and individualism - that is, people’s ability to express and think for themselves being taken away. That’s because freedom of thought/individuality is a much more pressing threat on our minds in the current climate. Most people aren’t scared of communists anymore, but we are scared of having our free will taken away from us. 

The best indicator of the era in which a story is created is its villain. Stories written circa 9/11 have villains that are foreign, because foreign terrorism was a big fear in the early 2000s. In the past, villains were black people, because white people were racist (and still are, but more blatantly so in the past). 

Alright, now for the fun part.

ZOMBIES

Although the concept has existed in Haitian voodooism for ages, the first instance of zombies in western fiction was a book called The Magic Island written by William Seabrook in 1929. Basically ol Seabrook took a trip to Haiti and saw all the slaves acting tired and ‘brutish’ and, having learned about the voodoo ‘zombi’, believed the slaves were zombies, and thus put them in his book.

The first zombie story in film was actually an adaptation of Seabrook’s accounts, called White Zombie (1932). It was about a couple who takes a trip to Haiti, only for the woman to be turned into a zombie and enchanted into being a Haitian’s romantic slave. SUPER racist, if you couldn’t tell, but not only does it reflect the state of entertainment of the era - Dracula and Frankenstein had both been released around the same time - but it also reflects American cultural fears. That is, the fear of white people losing their authoritative control over the world. White fright.

Naturally, the box office success of White Zombie inspired a whole bunch of other remakes and spinoffs in the newly minted zombie genre, most of them taking a similar Haitian voodoo approach. Within a decade, zombies had grown from an obscure bit of Haitian lore to a fully integrated part of American pop culture. Movies, songs, books, cocktails, etc. 

But this was also a time for WWII to roll around and, much like the Bodysnatchers, zombie symbolism evolved to fit the times. Now zombies experienced a shift from white fright and ethnic spirituality to something a bit more secular. Now they were a product of foreign science created to perpetuate warmongering schemes. In King of Zombies (1941), a spy uses zombies to try and force a US Admiral to share his secrets. And Steve Sekely’s Revenge of the Zombies (1943) became the first instance of Nazi zombies. 

Then came the atom bomb, and once more zombie symbolism shifted to fears of radiation and communism. The most on-the-nose example of this is Creature With the Atom Brain (1955).

Then came the Vietnam War, and people started fearing an uncontrollable, unconscionable military. In Night of the Living Dead (1968), zombies were caused by radiation from a space probe, combining both nuclear and space-race motifs, as well as a harsh government that would cause you just as much problems as the zombies. One could argue that the zombies in the Living Dead series represent military soldiers, or more likely the military-industrial complex as a whole, which is presented as mindless in its pursuit of violence.

The Living Dead series also introduced a new mainstay to the genre: guns. Military stuff. Fighting. Battle. And that became a major milestone in the evolution of zombie representation in media. This was only exacerbated by the political climate of the time. In the latter half of the 20th century, there were a lot of wars. Vietnam, Korea, Arab Spring, Bay of Pigs, America’s various invasions and attacks on Middle Eastern nations, etc. Naturally the public were concerned by all this fighting, and the nature of zombie fiction very much evolved to match this.

But the late 1900s weren’t just a place of war. They were also a place of increasing economic disparity and inequal wealth distribution. In the 70s and 80s, the wage gap widened astronomically, while consumerism remained steadily on the rise. And so, zombies symbolized something else: late-stage capitalism. Specifically, capitalist consumption - mindless consumption. For example, in Dawn of the Dead (1978), zombies attack a mall, and with it the hedonistic lifestyles of the people taking refuge there. This iteration props up zombies as the consumers, and it is their mindless consumption that causes the fall of the very system they were overindulging in.

Then there was the AIDS scare, and the zombie threat evolved to match something that we can all vibe with here in the time of COVID: contagion. Now the zombie condition was something you could get infected with and turn into. In a video game called Resident Evil (1996), the main antagonist was a pharmaceutical company called the Umbrella Corporation that’s been experimenting with viruses and bio-warfare. In 28 Days Later (2002), viral apes escape a research lab and infect an unsuspecting public.

Nowadays, zombies are a means of expressing our contemporary fears of apocalypse. It’s no secret that the world has been on the brink for a while now, and everyone is waiting with bated breath for the other shoe to drop. Post-apocalypse zombie movies act as simultaneous male power fantasy, expression of contemporary cynicism, an expression of war sentiments, and a product of the zombie’s storied symbolic history. People are no longer able to trust the government, and in many ways people have a hard time trusting each other, and this manifests as an every-man-for-himself survivalist narrative. 

So why have zombies endured for so long, despite changing so much? Why are we so fascinated by them? Well, many say that it’s because zombies are a way for us to express our fears of apocalypse. Communism, radiation, contagion - these are all threats to the country’s wellbeing. Some might even say that zombies represent a threat to conversative America/white nationalism, what with the inclusion of voodooism, foreign entities, and late-stage capitalism being viewed as enemies.

Personally, I might partly agree with the conservative America thing, but I don’t think zombies exist to project our fears onto. That’s just how villains and monsters work in general. In fiction, the conflict’s stakes don’t hit home unless the villain is intimidating. The hero has to fight something scary for us to be invested in their struggles. But the definition of what makes something scary is different for every different generation and social group. Maybe that scary thing is foreign invaders, or illness, or losing a loved one, or a government takeover. As such, the stories of that era mold to fit the fears of that era. It’s why we see so many government conspiracy thrillers right now; it’s because we’re all afraid of the government and what it can do to us.

So if projecting societal fears onto the story’s villain is a commonplace practice, then what makes zombies so special? Why have they lasted so long and so prevalently? I would argue it’s because the concept of a zombie, at its core, plays at a long-standing American ideal: freedom.

Why did people migrate to the New World? Religious freedom. Why did we start the Revolutionary War and become our own country? Freedom from England’s authority. Why was the Civil War a thing? The south wanted freedom from the north - and in a remarkable display of irony, they wanted to use that freedom to oppress black people. Why are we so obsessed with capitalism? Economic freedom.

Look back at each symbolic iteration of the zombie. What’s the common thread? In the 20s/30s, it was about white fright. The fear that black people could rise up against them and take away their perceived ‘freedom’ (which was really just tyrannical authority, but whatever). During WWII, it was about foreign threats coming in and taking over our country. During Vietnam, it became about our military spinning out of control and hecking things up for the rest of us. In the 80s/90s, it was about capitalism turning us into mindless consumers. Then it was about plagues and hiveminds and the collapse of society as a whole, destroying everything we thought we knew and throwing our whole lives into disarray. In just about every symbolic iteration, freedom and power have been major elements under threat.

And even deeper than that, what is a zombie? It’s someone who, for whatever reason, is a mindlessly violent creature that cannot think beyond base animal impulses and a desire to consume flesh. You can no longer think for yourself. Everything that made you who you are is gone.

Becoming a zombie is the ultimate violation of someone’s personal freedom. And that terrifies Americans.

Although an interesting - and concerning - phenomenon is this new wave of wish fulfillment zombie-ism. You know, the gun-toting action movie hero who has the personality of soggy toast and a jaw so chiseled it could decapitate the undead. That violent survivalist notion of living off the grid and being a total badass all the while. It speaks to men who, for whatever reason, feel their masculinity and dominance is under threat. So they project their desires to compensate for their lack of masculine control onto zombie fiction, granting them personal freedom from obligations and expectations (and feminism) to live out their solo macho fantasies by engaging in low- to no-consequence combat. And in doing so, completely disregarding the fact that those same zombies were once people who cruelly had their freedom of self ripped away from them. Gaining their own freedom through the persecution of others (zombies). And if that doesn’t sum up the white conservative experience, I don’t know what does.

So yeah. That’s zombies, y’all.

Thanks for the ask!

[pro-bee]

I interrupt the usual fandom spirals for some Real Talk:

Those of you who are passionate about something and want to make a career out of it, but then dismiss it to do something “safe” because there’s no money in it?

Don’t discount your feelings.

I’ve got a lot of regrets in my life, but one of the biggest is that I didn’t listen to the voice in my head that told me what I liked (in my case, photography/film), because it wasn’t really presented as a viable career option in my education. And while I was never going to make it in STEM, like my peers, I at least followed the humanities stream thinking a BA would get me at least a desk job somewhere that would provide a living. Unlike anything in the arts, the ones I really liked.

Basically, I was a scaredy cat. (Which I am about everything in life!)

I knew in college that I liked media, but film classes were boring and weird, so I pivoted into something more “concrete” like Psych (ha!). Meanwhile, in my core classes, I’d be jealous of the kids who were in Photography or Visual Arts or Film, but told myself, I had no talent in that, all the classes would do would kill any interest I had left. It was too late to change now.

(Too late!!! I was like 17 or 18!!! I was a baby!!!)

So then I went into another “safe” program in university, finished my degree, went into a tangentially related masters program because “this may as well happen” and coasted through life. I just figured I’d graduate with another degree and get myself a safe job with safe benefits and just muddle through life.

Again, I knew what things I loved, but I thought, it’s too late, I’m too old, I have to get going.

I was 25!!! Again!!! Still a baby!!!

Now, don’t get me wrong, I shoulder this blame myself. I am a coward. I am generally meek unless someone pisses me off really badly. I have low self-esteem and no confidence and am painfully shy. All of these things are hurdles I have struggled with on a daily basis my whole life and make it difficult to start anything new.

But I wish I realized then that it doesn’t matter.

I lived my whole life thinking, fulfillment is something other people get. Professional happiness and success is something other people get. Most people don’t get that, so don’t even bother. Just try to get through it all.

Now I think, why the fuck couldn’t I have gotten that kind of fulfilment if I’d wanted it? Why did I always believe that was something for other people to have, but not me?

I’ve been talking to two of my high school friends lately, two who were some of my closest friends for years, but with whom I rarely spoke to in recent years not because of any fallout, but just because of life and distance. (One of them lives on the other side of the world now.) And we’ve each had these conversations lately expressing the exact same feelings.

How we never pursued anything creative or different from the status quo, because our high school education did not value that or present it as a viable option. How we have kept bouncing around these jobs we might have been good at, but didn’t actually like, because it was the “adult” thing to do.

How we had all these other skills and talents that we didn’t even realize or understand or care to pursue.

And now, with us all being in lockdown for the last half year and having lots of time to think about what it all means, we realize, we were young. We had so much potential. Why did we let what others told us was acceptable dictate our paths?

Because my whole life, I’ve been terrified of ending up broke and without safety net. I’ve seen relatives struggle with that, even my parents, and financial insecurity has been the abyss I never wanted to face.

But all that fear was for nothing. Because here I am, all these years later, without any kind of career, in a dead end job that takes advantage of me, without any kind of real prospect for future in my current state.

So all that fear was pointless. All those years spent ignoring the voice in me that knew what I liked to do if I only admitted it, are years I could have been pursuing something that made me happy. (Frankly, it’s hard to believe I could make any less money than I make now anyway.) All those years spent telling myself doing whatever I was doing would be safe and lead to a stable future, I could have actually been building something that was going to help me reach those goals.

This is a very privileged point of view, I realize. Not everyone has a job they love and do whatever it takes to get by.

And I’m also not saying that your passions will allow you to find a job directly. I know not everyone gets to be a Broadway star or Olympic champion or basket weaver or whatever floats your boat.

But if I can say anything to younger people out there, who are getting ready to go back to high school or college or graduating and are struggling with this, it’s that, if something makes you happy, don’t discount that. Pursue it. Maybe it doesn’t lead you to a job directly, but it may lead you to an industry that captures the same feeling that your passions give you.

There is so much pressure to do the “right” thing and toil away in jobs that don’t pay enough and don’t appreciate you and will inevitably end or keep you on but crush you big by bit. Believe me, I graduated university in the midst of a recession, and it basically shaped the rest of my adult life.

You have value. Your interests have value. Your feelings have value.

You have so much of life ahead of you. And nothing is ever guaranteed. If you have a light inside you that’s guiding you, don’t discount it.

I wish I could do it all over again. I wish that so much it hurts. But I’m trying to figure out a way to make it better.

It’s so hard to find a path for most of us. Not everyone is blessed with knowing their purpose in life, especially not at the age at which society expects us to figure it out. And it’s ok not to figure it out, or try to change course when you’re older.

But I just want you to know, especially those of you who are still struggling with school, that it’s ok to be confused and it’s ok not to know what to do. But if you do start to figure it out, don’t let your peers or your parents or your environment tell you that it doesn’t matter. It absolutely does matter. You matter.

It isn’t too late to try, and you don’t know what you’ll find when you do.

[theviscountbridgerton]

Interview with Jonathan Bailey in Style Magazine (October 2020) where he talks a little bit about Bridgerton. The interview was conducted in English, transcribed into Italian, and then translated back into English by Google Translate so, you know, there are some things that get lost in translation. 

Love affairs, marriages of interest and intrigues. It is the portrayal of the new Netflix series Bridgerton, a bit of a Jane Austen romance, a bit of sexy in the wake of The Favourite, with the right dose of Downton Abbey-style family drama, but “so modern that it could almost be set in the present day” enthusiastically states Jonathan Bailey, at his great opportunity to really make it internationally, playing the fascinating bachelor Anthony Bridgerton, the quintessential English nobleman of the early nineteenth century, who at the age of 28 finds himself at the head of a clan of seven brothers and sisters. One who “has to play the part of a loving brother and son and instead loves women and forbidden pleasures” ...

The Regency period has been less represented than other moments in British history, but the film industry abounds with period dramas. Do they still make sense today? Our instincts are the same, in 2020 as in 1820, and to observe them in a restrictive and oppressive context such as 19th century England where the will of the individual was stifled, sexuality was suppressed and there was a strong division between the social classes, puts them even more in evidence. Each of us at some point in his life felt forced into a role due to the expectations of others, just like Bridgerton's characters.

Women more than men, but ... Only in appearance: of course all the decisions are up to men, and Anthony for example to decide who should marry Daphne, but they are also forced to repress their feelings, which makes them unable to live a happy life. Patriarchal society has wreaked havoc on both sexes.

Bridgerton also has the virtue of surrounding Queen Charlotte with a court that is not exclusively white: the terrifying Lady Danbury and played by Adjoa Andoh, Regé-Jean Page plays the role of Duke Simon Basset and Martins Imhangbe as his best friend. Is it worth abdicating historical accuracy to be politically correct? We decided to do the opposite of whitewashing that so many historical moments have suffered. Here the question is to be faithful to the events told in the books by Julia Quinn from which the series is based, not to be historically accurate, so we can also imagine that at the time of Queen Charlotte it could have been an inclusive court. custom and the freedom given to the actors to model the characters, to make them current.

The fourth season of The Crown will also arrive on Netflix in the coming months: have you wondered why the public is still so fascinated by the nobility? We all love what we cannot have, which is closed to us. Even without getting to the royal family. Think for example of the world of the Bennet sisters and Mr Darcy of Pride and Prejudice: they were far below the social hierarchy, yet they have been represented countless times in period films. Personally, what intrigues me most about the golden world of the aristocracy is not the parties and privileges, but what lies beneath the surface: I wonder what the human cost of that life is. Bridgerton's characters always pretend to be something other than who they are: the real drama and their distance from the truth in a society of appearance, and this is what intrigues us about them.

Is the society of appearance then different from ours? If at the time classism was based on the distance between people, with the aristocrats who did everything to limit what the people could know about them, today social media allow us to <approach> characters that otherwise we would only idealize and this does so that high society no longer exists.  We never knew so much about the royal family, but I don't think it's good.

Speaking of royalty, you started in the theater with the King John of the Royal Shakespeare Company: is the stage still your first love? A love that has only grown since I first saw a musical Oliver! as a child. I love the experience of being in the theater, first of all as a spectator, it's magic. But as an actor I have to admit that it's much more tiring than cinema.

And instead to dub the protagonists of the video games from Anthem and Final Fantasy XIV, how did he end up? That was one of the funniest things I could do. They have a really huge fanbase and I consider them an incredible art form as well as a thriving industry. He played them a lot when I was a kid and I rediscovered them during the lockdown.

What role do you dream of playing? I think it's better for me not to know, I prefer to be stimulated by reading a script. The important thing is to work with people who have a very defined idea of ​​your character: it makes him stronger, you can already imagine him on the page even before taking on his shoes. But I can say that I'd like to play someone who looks a lot like me, who tells my reality, I'd like to find out how I would feel. It sounds like a paradox, but I think Hamlet could never play Hamlet.

And could Hamlet ever be a woman? Thanks to the role of Jamie in Company, who was originally an Amy, you won the Laurence Olivier Award for Best Supporting Actor in a Musical. Amy was transformed into a man, yes, but homosexual, and it is no coincidence: I believe that women and gays, even if in different ways and at different levels, are both oppressed minorities. In Company the goal was to make the reflection on marriage more modern by putting a man in crisis, because, given that gay marriages are now legal in many countries of the world, it almost seems that one has to marry by force. In general, however, I don't think we should cut the female parts on men, both because they are related to purely female experiences, but above all because of complex male roles I would say that there are already enough. Women are finally being given roles with an emotional complexity never seen before: it is interesting to see them act as protagonists in a society that has long been dominated by men, sometimes very weak, others brilliant.

Who is Jonathan Bailey when he's not on set? A boy who loves being in nature. I just finished a week of cycling in the English countryside where I covered about 700km. I think if I wasn't an actor I would retire Cornish hut.

I had read in an old interview with him that as a boy he dreamed of becoming a pilot. I think I was trying to reassure my parents that I would settle down and find a stable job (laughs). But in reality maybe I could have become a teacher, not because I necessarily think I have who knows what to pass on, but I believe in young people, it will be that I recently spent some time with my six year old niece. Instead it is not that I really had the opportunity to choose, fate did it for me.

Does it owe more to fate or to his willpower? I don't come from a family of actors or artists, when at the age of seven I was offered the part of Tiny Tim in Charles Dickens’ A Christmas Carol which was to be performed at the Barbican in London I simply jumped at an opportunity. Many kids who love theater go to drama school, but having grown up in a small town in Oxfordshire, I wouldn't have had much choice but to join the basketball team. So I will always be grateful for that chance, but it has never been an easy path. I believe in hard work, which always rewards.

[forever-your-soldat]

Worth It

Anon: “love your writing! can i request reader being in love with brie for years now and she’s been there for her in every relationship and heartbreak that she goes through but now that they’re both single, reader takes a chance ☺️“

Just to remind you, this is all fictional. I just made everything up.

Warning: mentions of homophobia

Word count: 3,318

Being an internet celebrity, Y/n thought that life might be just a bit easier for her. She started as a youtuber, creating covers and visiting random places before she started going on tours and the number of her fans skyrocketed over the years.

Her connections to people, along with her talents, became the door she needed before people from big industries started contacting her. She showed up in a few shows and movies before she gradually made a name for herself in acting. She still kept her channel updated, but it was never really the same anymore due to her schedules.

But that was how she met Brie. After they were both introduced to each other, the pair instantly hit it off and basically became attached to the hip. Brie was very much thrilled to have met Y/n after she watched some of her videos, stating that she was a fan and Y/n ended up laughing as she admitted that she was a fan of Brie’s.

Since then, they were texting and calling almost everyday.

Breaks on set? Either one of them would be on the phone if they weren’t together.

Free day? People would see them together in some restaurant, carnival, movie, or anywhere they had planned to hang out.

They told each other everything, talking about crushes, their jobs, everything.

But one thing Y/n has yet to tell her best friend was her sexuality and the fact that she had started to fall in love with her.

The first time she had started to feel differently was during one of their sleepovers. They were both just laying in bed, talking about the most random things and she found herself just watching the blonde as she rambled about her dreams.

At first, she shook it off, thinking that it was plain admiration toward the other, but as time passed by, she figured that it wasn’t the case.

The first time she realizes that she does, in fact, have a crush on Brie, was when the blonde went to surprise her while she was busy filming for a movie.

She was so surprised at the sudden appearance of her friend that she ended up feeling flustered and tumbled over her lines. The director dismissed it with a laugh, allowing them to take a break and Y/n walked up to her.

“What the hell are you doing here?” She asked and Brie gave her a small pout. “Aww, come on. Am I not allowed to see my best friend?” She teased and Y/n rolled her eyes as she finished drinking from her water bottle.

“A little heads up would have sufficed.” She stuck her tongue out and Brie laughed at her before hugging her tight. “I’m sorry. It’s just been a week but I really missed you.” She admitted and it was enough to make Y/n’s heart skip a beat.

“You are so clingy. I wonder how you even survive without me.”

“That’s the thing. I can’t because I need you.”

She ignored the way her heart fluttered and just laughed it off before she went back to do her work.

The first time Y/n realizes that she was in love was when Brie had introduced her to a man named Patrick. He seemed nice, but for some reason, it made Y/n’s stomach churn when she found out they were dating but she forced herself to be happy for her best friend.

“Come on, Y/n! I want you to meet someone.” Brie exclaimed as they weaved through the sea of people.

“I’m not going anywhere. What’s your hurry?” She laughed before they finally stopped and her eyes soon fell on the guy.

“This is my best friend, Y/n. Y/n, this is Patrick, my boyfriend.” As soon as the words escaped her mouth Y/n’s heart sank, but she was able to brush it off and smiled. “It’s nice to meet you!” She told him.

It took a while for her to adjust. Brie had started to spend less time with her a few weeks after that. Of course, she didn’t want to think about it, but then she had come to terms that it just wouldn’t happen.

Brie was straight, and Y/n had just fully accepted her sexuality, so she decides to take her time in exploring it.

But when her best friend came to her one night, face covered in tears, she didn’t hesitate in pulling her into her home and secured her into her arms, soothing her and letting her speak until she had nothing left to say.

By the end of the night, Brie had fallen asleep in Y/n’s embrace and she could only wonder when those feelings of hers would just go away.

As it turns out, it didn’t.

Even as years passed, Y/n had only grown deeper in love with the blonde and she’s terrified that it won’t ever go away. She watched as Brie went into relationships with all these guys. She would befriend them for the sake of her best friend.

But as soon as they break up, Y/n is gathering Brie into her arms, spending weeks and months to help pick up the pieces of her heart until Brie is back to herself and the cycle continues.

Only this time, it was different. Brie’s current boyfriend, Alex, had gone to Y/n for help and as soon as he asks, Y/n is stood frozen while the male explains his plans of marrying Brie.

“Do you think this will be okay?” He questioned her and Y/n had to take in a deep breath before she had plastered on her best smile and nodded. “I’m absolutely sure. She loves you a lot, and I can see that you do, too.”

Alex grinned widely at her before hugging her tight. “Thank you so much. I’m glad Brie has you as her best friend.” He told her before Y/n watched him leave her house and drive off.

It didn’t take that long before the whole world found out about their engagement and Y/n felt her heart break, but she held on, smiling as she went out in public, but crying as soon as she was in the safety of her own home.

It was a year after the engagement and Y/n turned back to her channel, smiling yet nervous as she took in a deep breath.

“How is everyone doing today?”

When the following day, her phone had been ringing endlessly and when she saw the messages on her phone, she saw the amount of people that have been talking about her latest video.

She was about to check it out, but there was an urgent knocking on her door and she wonders who it was, not expecting to have visitors. Quickly, she made herself seem presentable before the door opened and Brie came bursting in, eyes wide as she looked at her best friend.

“Brie? What are you do-”

“You’re gay?”

Y/n blinked dumbly at her and slowly nodded her head. “I, yeah. Why?” Even though she was internally panicking, she was calm on the outside, unsure with how the other would react.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Brie asked, sounding hurt as Y/n rubbed her head. “Well, you see, it isn’t really that easy.” She muttered with a sigh before Brie pulled her in a bone crushing hug.

“You could have told me, Y/n. But, god, I’m so proud of you.” She told her and Y/n smiled before hugging her back. “Thank you.” She whispered, and though she knew she could never have her the way she wanted, she was happy knowing that she had her as her best friend.

Though another year passed and Y/n was confused when Brie had asked her to come over. The text was plain and simple and it worried Y/n to no end that she almost ran out of the venue of her shoot when they were done just to get to the other.

As soon as she arrived, she was panting after running from her car and up the steps to Brie’s door. “I’m here!” She huffed, hands on her knees as she tried to catch her breath that Brie ended up laughing when she pulled her inside.

“What’s the problem? Who do I have to beat up?” Y/n asked as she finally stood straight and Brie rolled her eyes at her dramatics before she gestured for her to sit down

“The wedding is off.”

Those four words caused Y/n to blink repeatedly at the blonde. She looked so calm and casual about it. Why though when she seemed so excited about it the two years prior?

“I’m sorry, what?” She asked incredulously and Brie bit her lip as she leaned back. “It’s just... I don’t know. Things were going great but then it started to become... forced?” It was more of a question and Y/n furrowed her brows. “Who called it off?” She asked carefully.

She didn’t even seem bothered by it as she spoke. “I did.”

Y/n ran her fingers through her hair, nodding as she tried to think of any possible reason for it when Brie suddenly spoke again. “He was insulting you. He kept telling me that he didn’t really want me to be too close to you anymore and even asked me if I was sure of inviting you to the wedding.”

Now that, she wasn’t expecting. Alex didn’t even seem to be the type and she thought that they had actually formed a nice friendship.

“I couldn’t just let him talk to you like that. We had a fight and then things just ended.” Brie went on and Y/n felt a bit bad. “You shouldn’t have done that, Brie.”

The blonde only stared at her in surprise. “What are you talking about?” She asked her and Y/n lifted her gaze from the ground. “Brie, you shouldn’t have called off the wedding. You guys were so happy.” She told her and the other scoffed.

“I’d rather use a photon blast on him if I could than to marry him. Y/n, I wouldn’t marry someone who talks about you like that!” Brie threw her hands in the air. “He was worried.” Y/n tried to say.

“He was narrow minded.” Brie shot back then shook her head. “I honestly couldn’t handle the way he would talk about you and everything else. So don’t try and convince me otherwise.” She stated and Y/n sighed in defeat before she shook her head. “Fine.”

And things were back to normal between them.

When Brie had to go and meet with the Avengers cast, she would often invite Y/n to come with her and they’d gotten closer. Sometimes people catch them and ask if they were together, but they were able to shoot those rumors down. Though Brie had gotten a bit upset because there were people that would be hating on Y/n simply because they think she’s stealing Brie from her boyfriends.

The person to figure out about Y/n’s feelings for the blonde happened to be Robert. He saw them the first time Y/n appeared with Brie and he was quick to pick up on the way she acted around the actress.

“So, are you two together?” Y/n looked confused as she tilted her head at the man. “What?” He gave her a knowing look then tipped his head in Brie’s direction. The actress’ face turned a bright red and she cleared her throat. “Um, no. We’re just really close.” She told him.

Robert wasn’t all too convinced as he hummed thoughtfully. “Well, you both do look like a great couple. But I’m guessing you’re afraid with the whole “she’s straight” thinking?”

Y/n seemed surprised but she nodded in response before looking down at her hands. “She’s only ever seen me as her best friend. Even if she ever did start liking girls, I’m not exactly the person she would be dating.” She explained and he scoffed lightly. “You look like the best partner for her.”

“I’ve seen bits of you two in articles and pictures. You treat her better than any guy should treat his girlfriend. You’re always there and honestly, I think you’re soulmates based on the information I know about you both.” He chuckled that it made Y/n crack a smile.

“Thank you.” She told him and he patted her back. “It’s nothing. Just something I’ve learned before. Sometimes the love of your life won’t be your soulmate, and that’s okay because you’ll be in for something greater.”

Y/n felt a little bit better after that and she was able to breathe without worrying about her feelings for the other.

Brie was able to notice the change. Y/n was happier, calmer, than before and she found herself smiling whenever she saw the woman and would then walk over to her. And being Y/n, she would instantly wrap her arms around her waist and pull her against herself. Whenever they went out, they were always holding hands and it all just felt so natural for them.

Though along the way, Brie finds herself thinking more about the other actress and she’d catch herself smiling for no particular reason. Whenever Y/n would be gone for long periods of time, she would end up missing her and start pestering her for video calls.

At first, Y/n was’t sure how to take it. But eventually, she allowed herself to simply love Brie no matter the fact that they wouldn’t be together.

When Y/n finally came back from Asia, Brie was waiting excitedly for her at the airport. When she saw her, she was running and jumping into her arms, not at all minding the paparazzi and fans that had crowded around them.

“I missed you so much!” She exclaimed and Y/n had to laugh as she rubbed her back. “Yes, I know. You wouldn’t stop asking me when I’d be home.” She reminded her as Brie took her hand and they started walking out of the airport.

“I can’t help it. Not having you around for six months?” The blonde huffed and made the other roll her eyes. “You’re honestly helpless without me.”

“At least you know that I need you.”

Y/n would just smile at the familiar words and shake her head as they finally made their way to her house and Brie would constantly ask her about her time away, finding it amusing as Y/n would tell her all about the fun things she did.

Y/n freshened up when they got to her house and Brie waited for her in her room. She’s not been there for a long while so she was able to see the news things Y/n had in her room.

She smiled at the pictures that were on the wall. Y/n loved collecting pictures, books, and vinyls. She ended up with a shelf for those but the pictures were everywhere on the walls and bedside table.

Though she did stop as she saw a picture of the two of them and she giggled at the memory. It was during their first movie together. Both had fallen asleep while waiting for their turn to film and one of their friends took a picture of them cuddling together.

After that, she just started to relive all the times they spent together until she just sat on the bed, holding up the most recent picture that they had. It was during the Endgame premier. Robert wanted to take a picture of them, pretending like he was one of the photographers. But she never really got the chance to see the picture and she didn’t know that Y/n had a copy of it.

It was simple, just the two of them, smiling at each other. She lightly traced it with her index finger and she wonders what Y/n must have been thinking because her smile on that picture just made her look so content and happy.

“You know, it’s bad to snoop.” Y/n voice reached her ears, but she just kept staring at the picture. “Since when have I been one to be nice?” She countered playfully as she heard Y/n approach the bed then looked at the picture as well, instantly bringing a smile to her face when she did.

“You look really happy here.” Brie commented when Y/n laid next to her. “I’m always happy with you.” Y/n mumbled as she cocked a brow and Brie set the photo down before she laid next to Y/n and faced her.

“What are you thinking about that makes you happy?” She couldn’t help but ask and Y/n stared back at her with a small smile on her face. “Well, there’s always you.” She murmured and Brie smiled slightly. “What about me?”

Though she was scared of how this would end up, Y/n thought back on what Robert told her before she bit her lip and started to say what she’d kept locked up in her mind and heart for so long. “Well, I think you’re really stupid.” She chuckled, earning a playful slap on the arm.

“You’re horrible.” Brie giggled and Y/n just laughed before she shook her head.

“You’re honestly the best person I’ve ever met. You’re kind, caring, beautiful, and smart. You’ve been my best friend for all these years and  accepted me when I thought I would be shunned by the whole world.” She told her before licking her lips as she tried to think and Brie waited for her.

“You are at every high and low in my life and it terrifies me sometimes because it’s like I’m going to lose you one day.” She admitted. “But then again, it makes me happy, knowing you’re there for me when I need you. And with all that’s happened to us for all these years...”

She felt her heart start to race as she made up her mind. “You’ve made me unbelievably happy and just let me be comfortable as me. I’ve loved you so much and it just kept scaring me that once you find out, my fears are going to end up coming true.”

Brie was caught off guard by her confession. She didn’t really think that Y/n would have actually harbor feelings for her, but she did. And for some reason, hearing that caused her heart to skip a few beats.

“How long?” She whispered and Y/n looked her straight in the eyes. “When you told me about Patrick.” She answered firmly and Brie’s eyes softened before she lifted herself slightly, using her arm to support her head.

“Y/n that was...” Y/n smiled at her as she nodded her head. “I know.”

“And when Alex proposed...”

“I helped him.”

Hearing that made her feel bad all of a sudden. “If you did love me... then why?” That was the most vulnerable Brie has ever seen Y/n and she felt her eyes well up in tears.

“You loved him.” She said simply. “You were so happy together and you were both in love.” She murmured. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Y/n was quiet for a while, trying to think of what to say before she chuckled and looked at Brie with the most gentle gaze she’s ever seen.

“Because, I realized, you’re happiness will always be above mine.”

When she saw the tear that slipped from her eyes, Y/n lifted her hand and carefully wiped it away. And before she could pull back, Brie caught her hand and kept it there before she pressed their foreheads together.

“Alex was the love of my life.” She mumbled, her yes scanning Y/n’s. “But he turned into someone else that eventually I didn’t know him anymore.” She continued, squeezing Y/n’s hand before she released a shaky breath and Y/n remembers Robert’s words.

“Sometimes the love of your life isn’t going to be you soulmate.” She whispered and Brie smiled at her.

“I didn’t need the love of my life.” She told her.

“I needed my soulmate.”

[recentanimenews]

IN-DEPTH: Neon Godzilla Evangelion, The Horrors of Hideaki Anno

  "Something broken or deficient comes more naturally to me. Sometimes that thing is the mind. Sometimes it is the body."

                                                               -Hideaki Anno, creator of Neon Genesis Evangelion

  "Monsters are tragic beings; they are born too tall, too strong, too heavy, they are not evil by choice. That is their tragedy."

                                                                - Ishiro Honda, director of Godzilla

  Image via Amazon Prime Video

  Horror is born of trauma. The pop-culture monsters we fear and are fascinated by tend to reflect our very real anxieties. Frankenstein tells the story of scientific progress so explosive that it risks leaving humanity behind. It Follows creates a nightmare vision of looming intimacy and the potential for unknowable disease. Leatherface, hooting at the dinner table with his brothers in rural Texas, was the child of economic angst, the crimes of Ed Gein, and of President Nixon's threat of a "silent majority" forcing Americans to reconsider whether or not they really knew their neighbors. 

  And Godzilla? Well, Godzilla is a metaphor for a bomb. A bunch of bombs, actually. But more important than that, he represents loss — the loss of structure, of prosperity, of control. Godzilla is our own hubris returning to haunt us, the idea that in the end, we are helpless in the face of nature, disaster, and even our own mistakes. We, as a species, woke him up and now we have to deal with him, no matter how unprepared we are.

  Hideaki Anno understands this.

  In 1993, he began work on Neon Genesis Evangelion, a mecha series profound in not just its depiction of a science fiction world but in its treatment of depression and mental illness. It is a seminal work in the medium of anime, a "must-watch," and it would turn Anno into a legend, though his relationship to his magnum opus remains continuous and, at best, complicated. It is endlessly fascinating, often because Anno seems endlessly fascinated by it. 

  In 2017, he would win the Japanese Academy Film Prize for Director of the Year for Shin Godzilla, a film that also won Picture of the Year, scored five other awards, and landed 11 nominations in total. Shin Godzilla was the highest-grossing live-action Japanese film of 2016, scoring 8.25 billion yen and beating out big-name imports like Disney's Zootopia. In comparison, the previous Godzilla film, Final Wars, earned 1.26 billion. Shin Godzilla captured the public's attention in a way that most modern films in the franchise had not, returning the King of the Monsters to his terrifying (and culturally relevant roots).

  So how did he do it? How did Anno, a titan of the anime industry famous for his extremely singular creations, take a monster that had practically become a ubiquitous mascot of Japanese pop culture and successfully reboot him for the masses? How did Godzilla and Neon Genesis Evangelion align in a way that now there are video games, attractions, and promotions that feature the two franchises cohabitating? The answer is a little more complex than, "Well, they're both pretty big, I guess."

  To figure that out, we have to go back to two dates: 1954 and 1993. Though nearly 40 years apart, both find Japan on the tail end of disaster.

  Part 1: 1954 and 1993

  On August 6th and August 9th 1945, two atomic bombs were dropped on the cities of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, respectively. These would kill hundreds of thousands of people, serving as tragic codas to the massive air raids already inflicted on the island nation. Six days after the bombing of Nagasaki, Japan would surrender to the Allied forces and World War II would officially end. But the fear would not. 

  Within a year, the South Pacific would become home to many United States-conducted nuclear tests, just a few thousand miles from Japan. And though centered around the Marshall Islands, the chance of an accident was fairly high. And on March 1, 1954, one such accident happened, with the Lucky Dragon #5 fishing boat getting caught in the fallout from a hydrogen bomb test. The crew would suffer from radiation-related illnesses, and radioman Kuboyama Aikichi would die due to an infection during treatment. For many around the world, it was a small vessel in the wrong place at the wrong time. For Japan, it was a reminder that even a decade after their decimation from countless bombs, atomic terror still loomed far too close to home.

  Godzilla emerged from this climate. Films about giant monsters had become popular, with The Beast from 20,000 Fathoms and a 1952 re-release of King Kong smashing their way through the box office, and producer Tomoyuki Tanaka wanted to combine aspects of these with something that would comment on anti-nuclear themes. Handed to former soldier and Toho Studios company man Ishiro Honda for direction and tokusatsu wizard Eiji Tsubaraya for special effects, Godzilla took form and would be released a mere eight months after the Lucky Dragon incident. 

  Image via Amazon Prime Video

  It was a success, coming in eighth in the box office for the year and it would lead to dozens of sequels that would see Godzilla go from atomic nightmare to lizard superhero (and then back and forth a few times). America, sensing profits, bought the rights, edited it heavily, inserted Rear Window star Raymond Burr as an American audience surrogate, and released it as Godzilla: King of the Monsters! It was also very profitable, and for the next 20 years, every Japanese Godzilla film got a dubbed American version following soon in its wake.

  Years went by. Japan would recover from World War II and the following Allied Occupation and become an economic powerhouse. But in the late '80s, troubling signs began to emerge. An asset price bubble, based on the current economy's success and optimism about the future, was growing. And despite the Bank of Japan's desperate attempts to buy themselves some time, the bubble burst and the stock market plummeted. In 1991, a lengthy, devastating recession now known as the "Lost Decade" started. And the resulting ennui was not just economic but cultural.

  The suicide rate rose sharply. Young people, formerly on the cusp of what seemed to be promising careers as "salarymen," found themselves listless and without direction. Disillusionment set in, both with the government and society itself, something still found in Japan today. And though people refusing to engage with the norms of modern culture and instead retreating from it is nothing new in any nation, the demographic that we now know as "Hikikomori" appeared. And among these youths desperate to find something better amid the rubble of a once-booming economy was animator Hideaki Anno.

  A co-founder of the anime production company Gainax, Anno was no stranger to depression, having grappled with it his entire life. Dealing with his own mental illness and haunted by the failure of important past projects, Anno made a deal that would allow for increased creative control, and in 1993, began work on Neon Genesis Evangelion. Combining aspects of the popular mech genre with a plot and themes that explored the psyche of a world and characters on the brink of ruin, NGE would become extremely popular, despite a less than smooth production.

  The series would concern Shinji Ikari, a fourteen-year-old boy who suffers from depression and anxiety in a broken and terrifying world. Forced to pilot an EVA unit by his mysterious and domineering father, Shinji's story and his relationships with others are equal parts tragic and desperate, and the series provides little solace for its players. Anno would become more interested in psychology as the production of the series went on, and the last handful of episodes reflect this heavily. 

  Image via Netflix

  After the original ending inspired derision and rage from fans, Anno and Gainax would follow it up with two sequel projects (Death & Rebirth and The End of Evangelion), and NGE's place in the pantheon of "classic" anime was set. Paste Magazine recently named it the third-best anime series of all time. IGN has it placed at #8 and the British Film Insititute included End of Evangelion on their list of 50 key anime films. The exciting, thoughtful, and heart-breaking story of Shinji Ikari, Asuka, Minato, and the rest has gone down in history as one of the best stories ever told.

  So what would combine the two and bring Godzilla's massive presence under the influence of Anno's masterful hand? As is a miserable trend here, that particular film would also be spawned from catastrophe.

  Part 2: 2011

  "There was no storm to sail out of: The earth was spasming beneath our feet, and we were pretty much vulnerable as long as we were touching it," said Carin Nakanishi in an interview with The Guardian. The spasm she was referring to? The 2011 Tohoku earthquake, the most powerful earthquake in the history of Japan. Its after-effects would include a tsunami and the meltdown of three reactors at the Fukushima Daiichi Nuclear Power Plant. The death toll was in the tens of thousands. The property destruction seemed limitless. The environmental impact was shocking. Naoto Kan, the Japanese Prime Minister at the time, called it the worst crisis for Japan since World War II.

  It took years to figure out the full extent of the damage. Four years after, in 2015, 229,000 people still remained displaced from their ruined homes. The radiation in the water was so severe that fisheries were forced to avoid it. The cultivation of local agriculture was driven to a halt, with farmland being abandoned for most of the decade. And though the direct effects of it varied depending on how far away you lived, one symptom remained consistent: The inability to trust those who'd been sworn in to help.

  "No useful information was being offered by the government or the media," Nakanishi said. Many voiced a fear that the government had not done its decontamination job properly or would not continue to help them if they returned to their former homes near Fukushima. Some felt the people making decisions were far too distant to truly understand what was going on. Many thought that the government had underestimated the danger. In a survey taken after the Fukushima meltdown, "only 16 percent of respondents ... expressed trust in government institutions." In most of these stories, citizens stepped in to help, feeling as if they had no other choice. Eventually, his approval ratings dropped to only 10 percent and Naoto Kan stepped down from his role as Prime Minister. 

  And what of Godzilla and Anno at the time? Well, the former lay dormant, having been given a 10-year hiatus from the big screen by Toho after the release of 2004's Godzilla: Final Wars. And though he'd show up in a short sequence in Toho's 2007 film Always Zoku Sanchome no Yuhi, they kept good on their promise. But Godzilla fans did not have to worry about a drought of Godzilla news. American film production company Legendary Pictures was busy formulating their own take on him, having acquired the rights a year before.

  Meanwhile, Anno's post Evangelion life consisted of ... a lot more Evangelion. Though he'd direct some live-action films, his most newsworthy project was a series of Rebuild of Evangelion titles, anime films built with different aims (and created with a different mindset) than the original series. Departing Gainax in 2007, these would be created under his newly founded studio, Studio Khara.

  Image via Netflix

  And while it's obvious from the contents of Evangelion that Anno is interested in giant monsters and giant beings in general (Evangelion is pretty chockful of them), this fascination would only become more open. In 2013, he'd curate a tokusatsu exhibit at the Museum of Contemporary Art in Tokyo, one that showcased miniatures from Mothra to Ultraman to Godzilla himself. About the exhibit, Anno would write:

  "As children we grew up watching tokusatsu and anime programs. We were immediately riveted to the sci-fi images and worlds they portrayed. They put us in awe, and made us feel such suspense and excitement. (...) I think our hearts were deeply moved by the grown-ups' earnest efforts working at the sets that dwelled deep behind the images. (...) The emotions and sensations from those cherished moments have lead us to become who we are today."

  For the presentation, he'd also produce a short film called A Giant Warrior Descends on Tokyo, with the monster based on a creature from Hayao Miyazaki's — his old boss and an inspiration to Anno, along with the man that Anno would accompany on a trip to the Iwata prefecture to show support for communities wrecked by the Tohoku earthquake — Nausicaa of the Valley of the Wind manga. It was directed by Shinji Higuchi, an old collaborator of Anno's at Gainax who had served as Special Effects Director for Shusuke Kaneko's stellar Gamera trilogy in the '90s.

  And though Higuchi would shortly go on to direct two Attack on Titan live-action films, their partnership would continue. Because in 2015, Toho announced they would team up to co-direct Godzilla 2016.

  Part 3: 2016

  Hideaki Anno has often thought of the apocalypse.

  In an interview with Yahoo! News in 2014, he'd tell the interviewer he "sincerely thought that the world would end in the 20th Century," and that his fear of a nuclear arms race and the Cold War had heavily influenced Evangelion. However, his creative process isn't just permeated by man-made threats. "Japan is a country where a lot of typhoons and earthquakes strike ... It's a country where merciless destruction happens naturally. It gives you a strong sense that God exists out there."

  This focus on earthly intervention by a divine presence is definitely a theme in Evangelion, but it also applies to Godzilla, a borderline invincible behemoth that was created to remind man of its mistakes. It's this kind of provoking thoughtfulness (among other things) that might have alerted Toho Studios of Higuchi and Anno's potential proficiency in re-igniting the slumbering Godzilla franchise. "[W]e looked into Japanese creators who were the most knowledgeable and had the most passion for Godzilla ...Their drive to take on such new challenges was exactly what we all had been inspired by," Toho would say of the pair.

  Image via Amazon Prime Video

  It was a few years in the making, though. After the creation of Evangelion: 3.0 You Can (Not) Redo, Anno fell into depression, causing him to turn down Toho's 2013 offer of the Godzilla project. But thanks to the support of Toho and Higuchi, Anno decided to eventually take them up on it. However, he did not want to repeat how he felt past filmmakers had been "careless" with Godzilla, stating that Godzilla "exists in a world of science fiction, not only of dreams and hopes, but he's a caricature of reality, a satire, a mirror image." Higuchi was also passionate about the project, saying, "I give unending thanks to Fate for this opportunity; so next year, I'll give you the greatest, worst nightmare."

  Rounding out the NGE reunion with Shin Godzilla would be Mahiro Maeda, a character designer who would provide the look of Godzilla, and Evangelion composer Shiro Sagisu. Sagisu's music often includes motifs from Evangelion and the work of Akira Ifukube — who scored many classic Godzilla films — and is a great match for the monster. It's powerful stuff. 

    Anno's main concern was rivaling the first Godzilla, a film that remains effective to this day. So, in order to "come close even a little," he "would have to do the same thing." Thus, after over 60 years of monster adventures, Shin Godzilla became Godzilla's first real Japanese reboot, following a long line of films that were either direct sequels or had ignored the sequels to become direct sequels to the original. It would carry many of the same beats — monster arrives, people struggle to figure out how to stop it, they eventually do. The end. But unlike many Godzilla films, in which bureaucratic operations took a backseat to the scientists that would eventually figure out how to stop (or help) the Big G, they were front and center here.

  And the depiction was often less than kind.

  Instead of confident and sacrificial, the politicians found in Shin Godzilla are ludicrous in their archaic behavior, seemingly more concerned with what boardroom they're in than the unstoppable progress of the beast destroying their city. Most of their actions are played for comic relief, a tonal clash with the stark backdrop of the 400-foot-tall disaster walking just outside their offices. Multiple references are made to the Tohoku earthquake, the tsunami, and the Fukushima meltdown — including the waves that follow Godzilla as he comes ashore and the worry over the radiation Godzilla leaks into the land he travels across. One plot point even includes Japan grappling with the potential use of an atomic bomb on Godzilla from the United States, showing that over seventy years after the end of WWII, nuclear annihilation remains a terrifying prospect. 

  In the end, only a team organized by a young upstart that's mostly free from the processes of his slower, befuddled elders can save the day. That said, "save" isn't really the right word. Echoing Anno's statement that Japan is "a country where merciless destruction happens naturally," Godzilla is only frozen in place, standing still in the middle of the city, a monstrous question left to be solved. Whether it's Godzilla or a disaster like Godzilla, it is a problem that you must deal with, prepare for, and rebuild after. It will always be there.

  That said, the film isn't just a parody of quivering government employees out of their depth in the face of a cataclysm (distrust in the goodwill of authority figures is a theme also omnipresent in Evangelion). It's also a really, really rad monster movie. Godzilla is a scarred, seemingly wounded creature, his skin ruptured and his limbs distorted. He is not action-figure ready, even as he evolves into forms more befitting of total annihilation. As the Japanese military increasingly throws weaponry at him, he transforms to defend himself, emitting purple atomic beams from his mouth, his back, and finally his tail. Higuchi and Anno's direction is often awe-inspiring, whether the camera is tilted up to capture Godzilla from a street-level view, or panning around a building to face him head-on. Godzilla feels huge. 

  Image via Amazon Prime Video

  Its this combination of ideas and execution that would cause Shin Godzilla to sweep the Japanese Academy Awards in 2017, and, excuse my pun, absolutely crush it at the box office. But an incredible movie wouldn't be the end of it. In fact, while Shin Godzilla was a successful Anno creation, it hadn't yet gone to battle with Anno's other most successful creation.

  Not yet anyway.

  Part 4: 2018

  A few months before Shin Godzilla's release, Toho announced a "maximum collaboration" between Godzilla and Neon Genesis Evangelion, a team-up that first manifested itself in art and crossover merchandise. Art with the logo for NERV (the anti-Angel organization from Evangelion), with the fig leaf replaced by Godzilla's trademark spines showed up on a subsite for the Shin Godzilla film.

  Meanwhile, video game developers Granzella and publisher Bandai Namco worked on City Shrouded In Shadow, a game where you played as a human trying to survive attacks from various giant beings, including some from the Godzilla universe and some from Evangelion. And though this wasn't specifically tied to Shin Godzilla — Godzilla looks much more like his design in the '90s series of movies, a monster style that was the go-to branding look for years after — it did make the idea of the two franchises co-existing in similar spaces a little less alien.

  The big one came in 2018 when Universal Studios Japan declared that the following summer, it would be home to a meeting of the two titans in "Godzilla vs Evangelion: The Real 4-D." This ride/theater experience would give audiences a firsthand look at a clash between the EVA units and Godzilla. However, just as the horror of the original Godzilla had been diluted through various sequels that saw him becoming Japan's protective older brother, and just as the crushing melancholy of Evangelion feels a little less sad when you see Rei posing on the side of a pachinko machine, this ride would also be a reframing experience.

  Godzilla is a threat, at first, as the Evangelion units zip around, blast him, and try to drop-kick him. But then, out of space, Godzilla's old three-headed foe King Ghidorah emerges. The golden space dragon provides a common enemy for the group and they work together to eliminate it. Godzilla, seemingly forgetting why he showed up to the ride in the first place, trudges back into the sea. He is now a hero, his spot as Earth's Public Enemy #1 seemingly neutered. 

  To this day, news of theme park attractions that bear the Shin Godzilla design consistently pop up, including one ride where you can zip line into Godzilla's steaming open mouth! But Toho doesn't seem open to a live-action sequel that many see as the obvious next step (though they would produce a trilogy of anime films that take place in a different monster timeline). Instead, they opted for beginning a kind of Godzilla shared universe, like the extremely popular Marvel Cinematic Universe. And Anno and Higuchi have moved on to their next revitalizing effort: a reboot of Ultraman. 

  Wes Craven, the director of A Nightmare on Elm Street once said, "You don't enter the theater and pay your money to be afraid. You enter the theater and pay your money to have the fears that are already in you when you go into a theater dealt with and put into a narrative ... Stories and narratives are one of the most powerful things in humanity. They're devices for dealing with the chaotic danger of existence." The creators at Toho certainly gave people that with Godzilla, just as Anno did with Neon Genesis Evangelion.

  Image via Amazon Prime Video

  But horror films are also entertainment, and soon these monsters are sequel-ized and commodified, losing their edge to the point that new minds are brought in to reboot them and help them move forward. It's a process we've repeated since people began telling stories to one another thousands and thousands of years ago. They help us confront the worst aspects of ourselves and of our worlds. It's what makes them vital. We need them. Like the next evolution of monsters sprouting from Godzilla's tail in the final frame of Shin Godzilla, the horror genre reaches out, grasping for fears that we have and fears that will one day come.  

  For more Crunchyroll Deep Dives, check out Licensing of the Monsters: How Pokemon Ignited An Anime Arms Race and The Life And Death Of Dragonball Evolution.

    Daniel Dockery is a Senior Staff Writer for Crunchyroll. Follow him on Twitter!

  Do you love writing? Do you love anime? If you have an idea for a features story, pitch it to Crunchyroll Features.

  By: news+feed@crunchyroll.com

[wolfpawn]

I Hate You, I Love You, Chapter 105

Chapter Summary -   Danielle is tired and jet-lagged, which is not a time to question her integrity.

Previous Chapter

Rating - Mature (some chapters contain smut)

Triggers - references to Tom Hiddleston’s work with the #MeToo Movement. That chapter will be tagged accordingly.

authors Note - I have been working on this for the last 3 years, it is currently 180+ chapters long.  This will be updated daily, so long as I can get time to do so, obviously.

All image rights belong to their owners

tags: @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog @jessibelle-nerdy-mum @nonsensicalobsessions @damalseer @hiddlesbitch1 @winterisakiller @fairlightswiftly @salempoe @wolfsmom1

If you wish to be tagged, please let me know.

Danielle sighed as she crashed onto the bed after a long day. The heat, the time zone differences and if she was completely honest, she felt a little lonesome for Tom. Groaning as she felt herself getting a tad frustrated, she just lay on the bed and got her phone out, sending a quick “I’m alive” text before curling up against a pillow and falling asleep.

The next morning, she dragged herself out and forced herself into the shower before grabbing some pastries at the breakfast counter of the hotel and getting a cab to the offices of Lucas’ company.

‘How is the jet lag treating you?’

‘I want to sleep for a week, how do people do this?’

‘Your boyfriend does it a lot.’

‘Yes, and I have a newfound respect for him.’ She commented as she grabbed a very large cup of coffee.

‘May I ask you something?’ Danielle paused, she suspected whatever it was he was about to ask, Tom was the key part of it. She turned and looked at him, nodding. ‘Do you find it odd?’

‘What?’

‘Having a film star for a boyfriend?’

‘No, because to me, he’s Tom, dorky, book-loving Tom.’

‘But he has a big name.’

‘In certain circles.’

‘He could help you.’

Danielle’s jaw clenched slightly. ‘I don’t want or need help. And I am behind the scenes, so Tom’s name does little for me there, thankfully.’

‘You don’t want his help?’ Lucas asked curiously.

‘No.’ She stated firmly. ‘I don’t.’

‘He knows Branagh as well though?’ Danielle frowned. ‘I was talking to him, he was thanking me for suggesting you and then mentioned that it was great to bounce around ideas with you, that you were receptive to his ideas but also that you added your own input that he found valuable and that you brought your boyfriend along to speak with him.’

Danielle felt uneasy as to the tone he was using. ‘Yes, Tom knows Ken, they worked together before on a few projects, quite a few actually.’

‘But why bring him to a business meeting?’

‘Sure you know yourself, when both of you are home, it’s nice to actually do stuff with your other half. Your wife is so busy with work too, isn’t that why you had her at our meeting, to spend time with her while you could? We just had the added bonus that Tom and Ken know each other, so we got to have a wonderful conversation where effectively Ken embarrassed him with stories for my amusement and Tom and he got to actually spend time talking again, they are considering working together in the future as a result of that meeting.’ She smiled. ‘So, does that mean that technically, I got him a job, not the other way around?’

Lucas’s brow furrowed. ‘I’m not quite sure. So, you didn’t bring him to secure the job?’

This time, Danielle’s jaw clenched completely. ‘I have not, nor will I ever, use Tom to “secure a job” I will get by on my efforts and mine alone. I noticed the flaw, I wrote my piece that caught Browne’s attention and had him contact you, I went into that hotel and spoke to you regarding it, and though yes, you suggested me to Branagh, it was my talking that convinced him, you just said yourself there, my ability to add to his idea, he and Tom talked about Wallander and Thor and theatre, he and I spoke shop. Tom hasn’t a clue one end of a safety harness from the other, it is not his job to know.’ She rose from the table. ‘I am not sure I wish to continue with this if it is going to be assumed that I have Tom as a means to get ahead in my work, he went with me that day because I was shitting myself at the idea of a project that big with such a renowned actor, he dropped me the day of our meeting because he knew I was terrified but he didn’t come in, he respected me enough in my job to not do so. He knows I would never want to get anywhere on his coattails but on my own labours.’ She walked towards the door. ‘I am sorry it had to go like this, I really am.’ she sighed, walking out of the office.

As she pressed the elevator call button, she felt her heart begin to sink. She had thought her career was on the rise, but this had put it all to a halt. Part of her wondered if she was being petty, but the other part was highly insulted at the insinuation she was using Tom and his name to further herself. She worked hard, she didn’t have to use Tom’s name, nor would she. She loved Tom, not his name or influence. Angered and with a severe dislike of elevators anyway, she decided to go for the stairs, it was only fifteen floors down so she began her descent. When she opened the stairwell door into the lobby, she noticed Lucas standing in front of the elevator doors, she looked at him for a moment before focusing on the door and walking out it. She hailed a taxi and gave the address of her hotel, noting Lucas watching her from the doorway of his offices, but she refused to look at him.

In the safety of her hotel room, she kicked off her shoes and looked around, her files in hand. Danielle looked at them bitterly, all her hard work, her chances of getting somewhere, blasted from the water by the idea she had used her boyfriend’s name. She felt angry for a moment at Tom for costing her for a prestigious role. If he had been normal, an Average Joe, she would have gotten more credit for her hard work...she paused, feeling guilty. Danielle was no fool, she knew it was in no way Tom’s fault, she was just upset and venting. Tom was in Atlanta, blissfully unaware of the terrible mess her career was in. the thought of which caused her to pause for a moment. Her career was in shambles, one call from Lucas and Branagh could drop her, she could very easily be blacklisted and she would never be able to explain herself because of how the industry worked. Upset, she sat on the bed, heartbroken at how events had played out. She wanted to talk to Tom, to just hear his voice, but she was embarrassed, she did not want to tell him, she felt like a failure. With the word screaming like sirens in her head, she felt her chest starting to hurt from the sensation of it. She had failed.

As though by divine inspiration, her phone began to vibrate, taking it out, she looked sadly at it, a text from Tom, telling her he was proud of her and that he loved her. Danielle wanted to cry, but nothing happened, she merely stared sadly at the text, she felt unworthy of a successful and wonderful man such as Tom. she was about to throw the phone on the bed when she realised she had actually dialled his number, quickly, she pressed the cancel button, but only a moment later, he called back. Sadly, she pressed the answer button and put her phone to her ear, she was desperate to hear him. ‘Hey.’

‘Elle? Darling, what’s wrong, are you alright?’

‘Yeah, I am just so jet-lagged.’ she sighed, it was, after all, not lying. ‘I don’t know how you do it.’

‘How long were you working yesterday?’ he asked, his voice filled with concern.

‘I landed at half six, I went straight to the office, I got back at half eleven last night, I think.’

‘Jesus Elle, what time are you there today?’

‘I was there for eight.’

‘Are you still there now?’

‘No, I am at the hotel.’ she wished she had said nothing.

‘Can you grab a quick nap?’

‘I suppose.’

‘Do so darling, you need it, that is all that has gotten me through some days.’

‘How is everyone?’

‘Wonderful, it is great to see them all again.’ she could hear the elation in his voice.

‘Good.’ She tried to sound enthused.

‘Elle, whatever it is, are you alright?’ Tom’s voice was one of concern, yet it was clear he did not want to push her.

‘It’ll be fine.’

‘What happened?’

‘Nothing.’

‘Elle?’ He prodded.

Danielle attempted to say nothing, but the punch to the gut that was her day was pushing out. ‘I shouldn’t waste your…’

‘Danielle, stop, do not try to deflect, do not try to pretend you are alright and for the love of God, don’t you dare try and hang up on me.’ She said nothing. ‘What has happened, please tell me.’

‘Lucas made a comment regarding you coming with me to meet Branagh.’

‘Okay, why is there an issue with that?’

‘I am not sure, he brought his wife to his meeting with me and that was trans-Atlantic. But he went on to ask if I used you to…’ Danielle could hear Tom make an odd click noise with his tongue.

‘So…’ His tone was every attempt to be steady, but she could hear it waver slightly. ‘What happened?’

‘I stated I have not, nor shall I ever use you or your name in my work, that if anyone could not see the merit of my work as it is, then it did not matter and left.’

‘Left?’

‘Yes, I left. I am back at the hotel now.’

‘Elle…’

‘What, I am not going to have anyone dismiss me or my work.’

‘But your career…’ Danielle said nothing. ‘This is twice I have cost you work.’

‘No…’

‘Elle, because of me, Durham cost you a job you really wanted, and now this, you said this could catapult you into your career, skipping years of the drudgery, and I cost you again.’ he sounded heartbroken. ‘How are you even speaking to me? You should despise me.’

‘All I wanted was to hear your voice, I wish you were here.’ she admitted.

‘Why, you should want to break up with me.’

‘Tom, I don’t blame you, I blame them, it was never your fault, they chose to be assholes, you have been nothing but supportive and respectful of anything I have decided to do. I would not change this for the world. I rather work at Subway making sandwiches for forty years and have a crappy little two-bedroom in the council flats with you than all of this if it meant I still felt as supportive and loved, honestly.’

‘Really?’ Tom seemed somewhat taken back by that.

‘Yes, with the obligatory chav named for our kids and a terrible faux leopard print clothing and all.’ Tom chuckled. ‘I mean, full-on Vicky Pollard.’ That sent Tom laughing.

‘You would look ridiculous-looking like that.’

‘Yes, but so long as you were there, being you, in an Adidas trackie, Nike Airs and your white socks tucking your pants legs in, shitty tattoos of the kid's names on your forearms, if you still made me feel as happy, I would not change it.’

‘Well, that is one hell of a declaration.’ Tom’s smile was apparent. ‘I am sorry, though.’

‘So am I.’

‘How are you?’

‘I feel like absolute shit, I am tired, hungry and I feel like an absolute failure.’

‘I’m sorry, Elle.’

‘I tried.’

‘Can you fix it?’

‘I don’t know, and I don’t want to if it means I have to accept such comments about my integrity.’

‘That is your decision, you know I support you.’

‘Thank you.’ She smiled. ‘I…’ The room phone rang, 'One moment, Tom’ half in concern, she walked over and held it to her ear, ‘Hello.’

‘Ms. Hughes?’

‘Yes?’

‘This is reception calling, I have a Mr. Lucas Waters asking for your permission to come to your room?’ Her tone was sterile of emotion, a common trait in American receptionists, Danielle had realised.

‘I…’

‘Elle?’ She could hear Tom on her phone. ‘Perhaps it would be wise to listen to what he has to say.’

Danielle paused for a moment. ‘Is he there?’

‘Yes Ma’am.’

‘Could you please put him on for a moment?’

‘Of course, Ma’am.’

‘Danielle?’

‘If you want to talk, I will speak with you in the hotel bar, like hell am I bringing a man that is not Tom to my room.’ she stated coldly.

‘Of course, my apologies.’

‘I will be down in a moment.’ she hung up the phone without delay before putting her own phone to her ear, ‘Tom?’

‘My little fiery Irish girl.’ She could hear him smile. ‘Get an apology before anything else.’

‘At the very least.’ She promised.

‘I love you, good luck.’

[letterboxd]

Pixar’s Picks: Family Films.

You’re stuck inside, saving the world. So we asked a group of award-winning Pixar filmmakers to help self-isolating families plan the very best movie nights (and days, and nights, and days…). And we talked to children’s film specialist Nicola Marshall about the beauty of movies made for kids, especially now.

Children deserve to watch great films, but kids are famously honest viewers. They’ll tell you instantly when they don’t like something. And when they do, it pays off: in Academy Awards (this year, for Hair Love and Toy Story 4), in stone-cold cash (as Box Office Mojo’s Top Box Office Grosses by G-rating confirms), and in precious family memories.

But where to turn when you need a quality watchlist of family films? When you want a guaranteed banger that the whole family will love, or when you want to move your child to next-level-cinephile status with a choice that will floor them? The answer, to us at least, is obvious: Pixar to the rescue!

We asked a group of the renowned studio’s directors and story artists—the people behind WALL·E, Finding Nemo, Inside Out, Bao, La Luna, The Good Dinosaur, Purl, Cars 3, Toy Story 4 and more—to show up in your hour of need, and show up they have, with personal recommendations that we’ve split into three Letterboxd lists: All Ages, 7 to 12 Years and 12 Years and Over.

From two-minute shorts to the entire Harry Potter collection, there’s something for every viewing window. From Charlie Chaplin to Greta Gerwig, the films cover a century of cinema; and from slapstick to horror, a multitude of genres.

Our filmmakers were remarkably restrained, nominating more Studio Ghibli films than Pixar movies, though they collectively agreed that Toy Story should most definitely be there. So we’ll say it for them: please explore all the films of our contributing filmmakers: Angus MacLane, Domee Shi, Kristen Lester, Daniel Chong, Peter Sohn, Valerie LaPointe, Brian Fee, Enrico Casarosa and Andrew Stanton. Thanks, you wonderful people.

Hayao Miyazaki’s ‘My Neighbor Totoro’ (1988).

Since many of us at Letterboxd HQ are grateful parents, this feels like a good moment to reflect on the enormous importance of ‘family’ films—so we pulled in our friend Nicola Marshall for a chat. She’s the founder of the Square Eyes film foundation, a curator of children’s film festival content, and a friend of the Henson family (not long ago, she created a live show with The Muppets and Flight of the Conchords’ Bret McKenzie).

Like most of us, Nicola is currently in self-isolation, after the hasty wrap-up of the 23rd annual New York International Children’s Film Festival (of which she is an advisory board member).

We’re living in an extraordinary time. How do movies help kids work out what’s going on in and around their lives? Nicola Marshall: Films are an essential way to unpack big feelings during big times. Like all of us, kids are expressing, and suppressing, all kinds of emotions right now, and are sponges for absorbing the emotions of the adults around them. Using a familiar medium to help unpack all we’re feeling, no matter how old we are, feels like a great plan to me. Art always supports processing and groundedness in uncertain times.

What’s your overall impression of the choices made by our Pixar friends for these lists? These are brilliant, eclectic selections—what superb curators these remarkable Pixar creators are, right? An excellent mix of films made for young audiences, and titles bound to appeal to them.

I’m thrilled to see, alongside some beautiful surprises and unknown gems, a lot of long-time personal favorites (Ernest & Celestine, Millions, Ponyo, The Muppet Movie, Fantastic Mr. Fox, The Red Balloon, My Neighbor Totoro, The Kid, Gerald McBoing-Boing, Wallace & Gromit, Modern Times, The Iron Giant, The Phantom Tollbooth, Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory, Monsieur Hulot’s Holiday, Yellow Submarine, Bicycle Thieves, Megan Follows as Anne of Green Gables… they go on!).

While the lists lean heavily on a canon of western-produced films, there are some terrific international cinema choices in the mix here (The World of Us, Good Morning), and a bunch of lesser-known historic titles I’m super eager to check out (Preston Sturges marathon, here I come!).

Yasujirō Ozu’s ‘Good Morning’ (1959).

Some of the Pixar directors included horror films—Get Out, It—and some Hitchcock thrillers in their 12 Years and Over lists. These selections are for older teenagers, clearly. What are your thoughts on the role of scares in kids’ viewing experiences? I’ve always been interested in the psychology of frightening films. Personally I’m too much of a big scaredy-cat for horror to be a genre that generally works for me (self-censorship all the way!), but there are a whole bunch of people out there who really love a good freak-out; kiddos included.

As a kid I think you’re always testing and readjusting your limits on where your fear boundaries are. One of the highly anticipated and super popular NYICFF collections each year is 'Heebie Jeebies’—short films that go out of their way to freak and fright. Kids (and the adults who attend alongside them) adore this collection and the expectation of being spooked.

I think humans love experiencing extreme feelings in small doses, to feel alive, whether we have big sensation-seeking personalities or not—and seeing something terrifying on screen has a certain safety to it. I also think scary films in collectively tricky times offer catharsis and adrenal release, and give us permission to scream long and loud, when that’s all we really feel like doing!

The New York International Children’s Film Festival wrapped up suddenly as the coronavirus pandemic began its march into the United States, but you did manage to screen much of the program. Other film festivals weren’t so fortunate. Would you like to take a small moment to celebrate the main takeaways of this year’s fest? NYICFF was so lucky to share three of the planned four collective viewing weekends, just ahead of a swift city-wide shutdown. I’m a tad biased, but I really do feel you only have to look to NYICFF’s annual programming to get a genuine sense of the state of the world for young people globally; the issues they face and what themes are currently resonating.

Our programming director Maria-Christina Villaseñor consistently curates a remarkable selection of films that speak to the experience of young people, valuing their views and voices, always insightful, and never condescending.

This year saw a number of films—feature and short—that depicted stories of kids determined to make a difference and taking self-guided steps into activism and action. My faith in our future is pretty darn solid right now thanks to the optimism and commitment of these kids—and the filmmakers giving voice to young audiences and speaking to big themes and shared cross-cultural truths.

Nicola Marshall.

What can the rest of the movie industry learn from all-ages creators and studios? I wish that there was greater wider-industry acknowledgement of the massive contributions that content for family and kids audiences make in terms of moving the overall film industry forward, both artistically and societally. As well as showing us fresh, meaningful and authentic ways to tell stories, the genuine commitment to diversity and inclusion in this space is meaningful, often to the point where it feels completely natural, unforced and expected in content for this audience, rather than some kind of box-ticking effort.

What do you think this pandemic will offer the storytellers of the future? I think we will come out of this time ready to offer stories with even greater connectedness and empathy. I think our collective slowing will allow, if we let it, an incredible development incubator. How we make our way through this uncertain time as adults and work through our relationship with fear and the unknown will hugely resonate with the kids we’re sharing our lives with. I think we can use art and story and myth and expression and feeling to navigate us all through.

For all those hunkered down with small people, what better time to share your favorite screen stories, and discover new films together. What we chose to watch and to share and to rewatch; to talk about and unpack our feelings around and distract ourselves with through this weird, big time will make a real difference to the kids in our lives, and their innate imaginative-storyteller selves, now and future.

Finally, what are your favorite Pixar movies? Pixar has always excelled at making incredible films with grown-up sensibilities squarely aimed at young audiences—truly cross-generational cinema, my very favorite kind. I love WALL·E for its seamless mix of art and heart, Brave for its representation of girl-strength, and Inside Out for exploring the shared humanness of feeling things deeply, and for reassuring us how valid and essential sadness is.

Related content

Pixar’s short films ranked according to Letterboxd community ratings.

Our 2018 interview with ‘Paddington’ and ‘Paddington 2’ director Paul King.

[writing-for-amusement]

Walk, Walk, Fashion Baby

Summary: As a young and successful fashion designer, you approach Joshua Kane to do a collaboration that brings regular and plus size high-end fashion into the world; your plan is to take the world by storm. Harrison Osterfield becomes the one to model one half of your masterpiece, and on the trek to find the perfect model for the other half, you keep coming up empty. After encouragement from Joshua and Harrison, you agree to model it yourself. This means that you’ll work even closer to Harrison, and you’re worried that your budding feelings for him, and his hidden ones for you, could ruin the collection and everything you’ve worked for. But perhaps the road to the fashion storm will also lead to a new power couple in the fashion world.

A/N: Okay, so, bear with me on this one, and the summary admittedly kinda sucks. I love Harrison and I think we don’t have enough of him to read. I am also in the midst of researching the fashion world, and I’m also making some stuff up because I’m the author and I can. I’m thinking this will probably end up shorter than Commission for Confidence, and in a bit of a different direction. Anyway, let me know your thoughts, and if you want to be tagged in this, just let me know!!

Taglist: @pparkerwrites

Disclaimer: I do not personally know Harrison Osterfield, nor do I claim to. I am essentially using his personage and visage to create a completely fictional story. I also don’t claim to know Joshua Kane (though we have had brief interactions on Instagram). That being said, I hope you enjoy this!!!

Word Count: 1602

Chapter One

You strode into the café Joshua Kane had suggested you meet at with your head held high. You could do this, you reminded yourself; you had graduated at the top of your class (on a complete scholarship, no less) from the Fashion Institute of Technology in NYC in fashion design, fabric styling, and fashion business management. You’d also dabbled in many other areas because you had such a passion for all of it.

You interned at Prada for a year as a sophomore, studied abroad at Chanel (and worked there for a year afterwards), and survived a year in-office at Burberry, you reminded yourself. You knew what you were talking about and your idea was something that would (hopefully) appeal to Joshua Kane, as it was up his and your alleys. Still, the prospective meeting had hatched butterflies in your stomach.

Looking around the lazy London café, you saw your prospective business partner in his avant-garde glory, his skateboard propped against the side of his chair. You walked forward and hit the butterflies in your stomach with a bug zapper.

No mercy for the hesitant.

“Hi,” you greeted him, putting your bag back on your shoulder. “I’m Y/N L/N, it’s nice to finally meet you.”

The thin man stood immediately, a bright smile on his face, and kissed your cheek in greeting. “It’s wonderful to meet you. My friends at Burberry have told me that you are a formidable woman, ready to make waves in the world.” He sat back down, and you followed suit. “I admit, I was a little shocked that you wanted to meet with me, especially since you have Dior, Versace, and Chanel knocking on your doors.”

You chuckled slightly and took your sketches out of your bag. “Chanel didn’t want to accept my ‘radical’ ideas and tried to rein me in,” you explained. “I worked there for a year after a semester abroad, and then I moved to Burberry.” When the waitress appeared, you ordered a tea and she nodded, walking off.

“So,” Joshua prompted, “what brings you to me?”

You grinned. “A business proposition.”

“What kind and why?”

“The kind that will make waves, and because I adore your work and the films you create along with them. I believe that we would work beautifully together.”

Joshua tilted his head slightly, regarding you with calm eyes. “What was so radical that had Chanel trying to pull you down?”

With a smirk that said, “You’re not ready,” you opened your sketchbook and handed it to the man. Joshua raised his eyebrows as his eyes poured over the pages. Your tea arrived and he was still analyzing your work, taking his time. Your smirk grew, as did the stomping of your heart, as a smile spread across his face.

That was exactly what you wanted.

“What do you propose?” Joshua asked eagerly, placing your sketchbook on the table and folding his arms over it to regard you evenly.

You sipped your tea nonchalantly, loving the way it soothed your current hurricane of a heart. “I suggest,” you began, putting your cup down, “we create a collection together—I do the more ‘feminine’ designs and you do the more ‘masculine ones’—we produce a film, and we have a runway show in the shop you set up. I want to take the entire industry by storm.”

Joshua raised a brow, though he was smiling. “Oh, darling,” he said as he held his hand out to you, “we’re going to rock the whole world.”

 You walked into Joshua’s studio, smiling at the few people that were milling around. Joshua always seemed to have friends around him, though you felt like you could never find him when you needed him. This time, though, you were lucky.

You found Joshua standing next to and talking to a man you recognized as Harrison Osterfield, an actor and model. Harrison was one of the big reasons you wanted to work with Joshua in the first place; you knew that when there was a collection to be done, Joshua loved to have Harrison as a model. He was honestly part of the picture you had in your head when you were designing the collection—your half of it, at least.

“Hello!” you greeted the men brightly, giving a wave.

“Y/N, darling, it’s wonderful to have you here!” Joshua said dramatically.

“I’ve been here before,” you laughed, waving him off.

"Yes,” his eyes gleamed, “but not when Harrison was here!”

“No, that’s true,” you agreed, turning to the tall men next to you.

“Hi, Y/N,” Harrison smiled, making your heart trip slightly, “Joshua has told me so much about you, but he hasn’t let me take a look at your ideas yet.”

“An artist’s ideas are theirs to share, not anyone else’s,” Joshua declared.

“So,” Harrison prompted, turning to you with excitement nearly vibrating off his body, “can I finally see what he’s been raving about?”

You chuckled and nodded, pulling out your sketchbook and opening it. “So, I must admit,” you began thumbing through the pages, “that you were who I thought of when I was imagining this collection.”

“Really?”

You nodded almost shyly.

“Well, I’m honored!” Harrison exclaimed, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

You tried to stop the heat from gathering in your cheeks, and to draw attention away from your sudden shyness, you held out the sketchbook.

Harrison took it gently and began to flip through the pages. He switched pages gingerly, as if he was terrified of ripping a page and ruining it. If you hadn’t ripped it yet with your clumsiness, you mused to yourself, you doubted he would rip it.

“This is bloody brilliant. Can you take me through your thought process?” Harrison asked with bright, gleaming blue eyes.

“Oh yes, please do,” Joshua echoed.

“Well, Joshua,” you began, tipping your head slightly, “I noticed that you never feature women that are anything but stick thin. Not that there is anything wrong with that, but I thought that your work, along with regular and plus sized women, would be revolutionary in the industry. The people it would affect, just imagine! Men and boys, women and girls and nonconforming people, could be so touched by seeing representations of themselves in such a beautiful and artistic way, one that seemed actually attainable. It took years for me to love myself and my body, and to be honest, sometimes I still don’t.

“But I want to change that for everyone. I’ve always wanted to design and create high end fashion that makes everyone feel included, but I wanted it to include that rule-breaking, avant-garde look that Joshua’s fashion has for the men. So, I began designing, and I realized that I really couldn’t do it without the man himself designing with me, creating the corresponding ‘masculine’ looks to my ‘feminine’ designs.”

“I saw her designs and fell in love,” Joshua continued at your pause. “You really do have a talent for breaking fashion rules that will follow into the common folk with the snap of the fingers. And, well, I think this is also the best way for you to break out into your own fashion company, instead of inside companies and in collaborations.”

You grinned, your eyes wrinkling at the corners, and took your sketchbook from Harrison. “I want this design for the main piece, and the main focal point of the short film,” you said, pointing to your pride and joy. “I’m going to put out adverts for the models, but this one, it has to be perfect.”

“Wait, where’s the masculine one?” Joshua asked, peering over your shoulder. “I saw it the first time, it was perfect.”

You cleared your throat nervously. “Well, I thought that, you know, since we kinda divided it into ‘masculine’ and ‘feminine’ halves, you would want to do the one that goes with this,” you explain. “I-I honestly didn’t know if it was up to par with the rest.”

“Are you kidding? It was amazing, I wanted to wear it!” Joshua reassured you, his eyes wide behind his glasses. “Show Harrison, show him, show him!!”

You chuckled and rolled your eyes, turning to the back of the sketchbook, where you’d tucked the folded papers you’d ripped out of the notebook. Pulling them out and smoothing them down, you handed the papers to Harrison.

The man’s eyes widened almost comically, and his jaw dropped to his ribs. “Y/N,” he breathed, making your mind race wildly, “this is amazing.”

“You both really think so?” you asked nervously.

“Yes!” Harrison and Joshua exclaimed at the same time.

You startled in surprise before barking out a laugh. “So, what should I do, then?”

“Harrison, you have to model that,” Joshua stated seriously. “Y/N, you have to let him model it. Okay? You have to create it and he has model it. Otherwise, our deal is off.”

When you looked in Joshua’s eyes, you saw that he was completely serious. There were no empty threats in his world, not when it came to fashion like this. And there was no teasing glint in his eyes, or a joking quirk to his lips.

“Well, Harrison,” you prompted, turning to him, “would you like to model it for me?”

Harrison’s smile had your heart galloping so fast you feared it would shoot out your mouth and into the stratosphere. “I would be honored. I look forward to working closely with you, Y/N, it is going to be one hell of a journey.”

Yes, you thought to yourself, if you keep smiling and looking at me like that, it will be.