#the only good thing is that there was absolute silence in the cinema at the fatphobic jokes and laughs at the other things so.

[borealing]

enjoyed wonka. my review is that timothy candelabra was not half insane enough. there was that Wonka Glint in his eye like twice but it felt forced. with paterson joseph and mathew baynton serving absolute evil chocolatier cunt opposite him it was like timmy was in a whole different genre. they were 100% committed, singing about chocolate fraud like if their fan dance wasn't sexy enough their chocolate monopoly would crumble and tim reacted like hwuh? like girl if you are not going to commit to the chocolate is life chocolate is love chocolate runs this damn town genre why are you here!

[reidsworld]

Beekeeping Age

Summary: Who knew having a crush on your best friends dad would turn out so good? Based on this request.

Pairing: Hugh Jackman x Fem!Reader

Category: Fluff

Content Warnings: Age Gap (25 and 55), Secret Relationship, not proofread

Mars speaks... Thank you so much for the request, I'm sorry it took me so long to respond! Also I'm pretty sure his daughter is like 19 but for the sake of this, she's like 25 lol.

Masterlist

You and Ava had met in your first year of university. She was studying communications, and you were pursuing cinema, but your friendship clicked immediately. Movie nights turned into inside jokes, and your shared love for Formula 1 only solidified the bond. By the time you were finishing your degree, her house felt like a second home.

And her dad? Well, Hugh Jackman was always around, friendly and easy to talk to. Over time, your admiration for him began to grow into something more, though you’d never admit it out loud… until one day, a TikTok joke set things in motion.

“You know what we should do?” Ava said, sitting beside you on the living room floor, phone in hand.

“What?”

“This audio!” She played a popular audio on tiktok about beekeeping age.

You snorted, shaking your head. “Seriously? You wanna do that?”

“Come on, it’ll be hilarious,” she said, nudging you playfully. “Besides, half the world already has a crush on my dad.”

You rolled your eyes. “Fine.”

With a laugh, you both set up the shot. Ava played the part of the daughter, gushing over her dad’s wholesome bee-keeping hobby, while you delivered the punchline.

When you finished recording, Ava burst out laughing. “Oh my God, that was perfect.”

You laughed along, but you couldn’t help but feel the warmth creeping up your face. The joke hit a little too close to home. Ava raised an eyebrow, catching your expression.

“Wait…” she began, eyes twinkling with amusement. “You don’t actually—”

“What? No!” you quickly protested, but she kept laughing.

“Oh, come on. Everyone’s into him! I mean, he’s Hugh Jackman. It’s fine,” she teased.

You flushed but waved it off. She had no idea how much truth there was behind that joke.

A few days later, you found yourself chatting with Hugh after one of his early morning runs. You were both sitting at the kitchen table, drinking coffee in comfortable silence.

“Ava tells me you’re a big F1 fan too.” Hugh said, glancing over with a grin.

“Yeah, I’ve been obsessed for years,” you said, grateful for the change in subject. “I actually studied cinematography partly because I loved the way F1 races are filmed.”

Hugh’s eyes lit up with interest. “No kidding? I didn’t realize that’s what got you into it.”

You nodded, feeling more at ease. “I’ve always loved how dynamic the sport is—the speed, the angles, the tension.”

“Well,” Hugh said, leaning back in his chair, “speaking of F1, Ryan just gave me tickets to the next race with Alpine. I was thinking of taking Ava and… maybe you, if you’re interested?”

Your eyes widened in excitement. “Wait, really? You’re inviting me to watch the race from the garage?”

He chuckled at your reaction. “Absolutely. I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t think you’d enjoy it.”

The race weekend was a dream come true. Standing in the Alpine garage, so close to the action, was something you’d always fantasized about. Hugh was at your side, just as enthusiastic, and you found yourself growing more comfortable around him. As the weekend progressed, your conversations flowed effortlessly—from F1 to films to life, and everything in between.

By the end of the trip, there was an undeniable connection between the two of you. You couldn’t help but feel that spark.

What started as innocent conversations turned into something more over time. Hugh would call or text you when he wasn’t busy, and the two of you found more excuses to spend time together. Coffee runs became long walks, and movie nights became opportunities to hang out alone. It wasn’t long before you realized your feelings for him were deeper than a crush.

The sneaking around was thrilling, but it also felt right. You and Hugh kept things under wraps for a while, not wanting to complicate your friendship with Ava.

One evening, you were relaxing on the couch, scrolling through TikTok when an edit of Hugh popped up on your feed. It was a compilation of his movie moments, and you couldn’t help but smile at how good he looked in each clip. As the video played, you whispered to yourself, “He really is amazing…”

You didn’t notice Hugh walk into the room until he chuckled from behind you. Startled, you looked up, realizing he’d seen the reflection in your glasses.

“Why watch videos when you have the real thing right here?” he teased with a playful smirk.

You blushed, embarrassed. “I—uh, I wasn’t—”

But he just laughed and sat down beside you. “It’s alright. Still nice to know I’ve got some fans out there.”

Eventually, you both knew you couldn’t keep the relationship a secret forever. The guilt was starting to weigh on you, and Ava had always been too important to lie to.

Sitting in the kitchen one afternoon, you glanced at Hugh nervously. “I think it’s time we tell Ava.”

He nodded, though he looked just as apprehensive. “Yeah, I think you’re right.”

You sat down with Ava, your heart pounding in your chest. “Ava, I need to talk to you about something important.”

She looked up from her phone, sensing the seriousness in your tone. “What’s going on?”

You exchanged a quick glance with Hugh before speaking. “I’ve been seeing someone… and it’s your dad.”

Her eyes widened, and the room fell silent. You could see the surprise and confusion on her face as she processed what you had said. The tension in the air was thick as you braced yourself for her reaction.

“This is… really weird,” she finally said, rubbing her forehead, “but I still love you guys. I guess I just wasn’t expecting that.” She looked between the two of you, a small smile forming. “Just treat him well, alright?”

Relief washed over you as the tension melted away. You hadn’t known what to expect, but Ava’s acceptance lifted a weight off your shoulders.

“I promise,” you said with a smile.

Mars speaks... Thank you for reading, any and all feedback is always appreciated 🫶

[luneemeritus]

Huskerdust headcanons (Angel individually, Husk individually, both as a couple)

TW: Valentino, abuse/sa mentions

• sometimes, Angel wakes up in the middle of the night, screaming, after having a nightmare (always about Val, like if he was there in the room with them). Husk comforts him and cuddles him.

• As said in this post, everyone in the Hotel assumes that Angel is a dumb bimbo, but he's not only extremely intelligent, but also, Husk was the only one who saw and admired his intelligence.

• Angel's is secretly a big nerd: he's a lover for cinema, theatre, art, literature and is overall cultured. He's also VERY GOOD at math, like really good, it was one of his jobs in the mafia family thing whatever, so he always helps Charlie with the paperwork and management of the Hotel.

• Angel doesn't recieve any of the money his movies make. He isnt paid cash, he isn't paid after the release. It all goes to Val, and also to the other Vees. He was absolutely dependent on Val before he got to the Hotel, so he started stealing money or doing SW in the streets away from Val;

• Husk knows this. This is why he always gave free drinks to Angel, he knew Angel could rarely pay for it.

• Angel made very clear to Husk to never text or call him while he is at work. Val cannot see his messages. This is why he even has Husk's notifications silenced. He explained to Husk, "only text me if I text you first". He can't risk putting Husk and himself in danger. This is why Husk keeps his phone by his side every day, to answer Angel as fast as he can in case Angel texts him.

• Angel likes being the little spoon, but he also loves when Husk sleeps with his head deeped between his chest floof.

• Angel talks a LOT, and loudly, specially about his interests. Valentino always thought it was annoying and told him to shut up many times; Husk, however, loves to hear him. He could listen to Angel's voice all day.

• Sometimes, Angel just wants to cuddle and touch Husk in bed, without any sexual intention. Every time he would try to do this with Val, Val would take it to the sexual side, ignoring everything Angel says or does.

• The first time Husk and Angel had sex, it was amazing and all, but Angel truly cried when he recieved aftercare. He knows what the concept of aftercare is, but barely remembers if it ever happened to him. If he recieved after before, it was probably once or twice before he got involved with Val.

• Both Angel and Husk love jazz/swing. Angel also tought Husk how to love modern pop and slutty pop music, and honestly Husk hates to admit he loves it.

• They're absolutely kinky in bed. Angel finally have the right to explore his kinks and sexuality in a safe space with his lover, without being forced or treated as an object.

@yourneurodivergentlady

[piratefishmama]

Fake it till you make it | Part 4

‘Boundaries’ were harder to settle on than they'd expected them to be. Eddie didn’t seem to want to put anything on the “strictly no” list. Even when Steve suggested sex should be on there Eddie just wiggled his brows and claimed a week in a cabin with him might change things.

Steve found that hilarious enough to laugh at (much to Eddie's adorable pout) but also too fair to disagree with.

They were two healthy, queer, adult men! What was a little consensual nookie between fake boyfriends?

Plus he couldn’t tell if Eddie was joking or not so he put that on the mental ‘maybe a boundary’ list that may or may not be tested.

Steve wasn’t about to completely rule it out either! He had a healthy libido and Eddie wasn’t unattractive. He… actually was pretty damn attractive.

Nice eyes, nice hair, nice lips, nice voice, nice han— anyway, they had a whole week together in a romantic chalet, pretending to date.

Anything could happen. Especially if they didn’t rule anything out. And ruling it out only made it seem more exciting, like it was dangerous. Best to just not rule it out.

“What about kissing?” Steve pondered aloud, a small frown on his brow

“If I’m not ruling out sex, Harrington, I think kissing should be fi—"

“No, dumbass, not ruling it out, I mean… it’s gotta seem like a thing we normally do right? An you gotta stop calling me Harrington, it’s Steve. Boyfriends don’t call each other by their last names.”

“I’ll have a mental list of pet names prepared before the day ends, don’t you worry, Stevie, but what do you suggest? Are you thinking we should practice?” Eddie leaned forward a grin stretching on his lips that almost seemed predatory, like he was expecting Steve to stumble through a rebuttal, expecting him to back down or to apologise, but no, Steve wasn’t some simpering maiden who’d bashfully turn him down.

Steve was an experienced ladies man with a reputation for being… for lack of a better term, a bit of a hometown slut.

Even if he had no practical experience with men, that didn’t stop him from exuding confidence as he moved onto his haunches and crossed the very short distance between them, forcing that mischievous little shit right back into his spot as Steve basically climbed from his hands and knees into Eddie’s lap, watching in satisfaction as all that mischief just kind of…

Drained from his face.

Drained and replaced with wide-eyed rosy cheeked surprise, his hands extended out either side of himself to avoid touching Steve’s body. Adorable.

“Maybe we should.”

“Ah—uhm—heh—y-yeah I mean—m-maybe not here though, yeah?” He talked a good game, he put on a damn fine front, but Eddie Munson wasn’t exactly swimming in cock. Wasn’t even paddling. Or wading the cock waters.

No he was mainly just suffering in queer silence on dry land with just good ol leftie and a few skin mags to make himself feel better. Although the image of Steve Harrington in his lap? Oh yeah that’d do him for a few months.

Sad that it ended so fast though, with Steve backing his perfectly plush ass right back into his seat quickly after, holding his hands up in mock surrender, accepting the stuttered rejection like a champ.

“Wherever you feel comfiest, man, but I suggest we figure that shit out fast, we don’t have long before this trip an you’ll have to meet them before we go so we’re going to have to be comfortable with each other, especially if it’s an environment where we have no excuse to not be comfortable.” If they were in public? Absolutely they’d have many excuses readily available.

The chalet? Not public. In fact it was quite big, the only reason he was so sure his parents would bring someone for him was because it was big enough that they could do their own thing for hours without crossing paths. Sure the bedrooms were close to each other but there were other rooms to fuck around in.

Damn thing had two Jacuzzi’s and a sauna. Not to mention a home cinema to fool around in.

They’d be hoping that he’d spend some easily obtained alone time with this mystery person. God he’d be being pimped out by his parents. How had his life come to this?

“You want me to meet them before we go?” He was just expecting to turn up on the day and be ‘Steve’s new boyfriend’ that they’d never met and would just have to accept would be in attendance. In that scenario he assumed Steve would just get the okay from them to have him come and that be that but—

Clearly his imagination was not even remotely true to real life. “Uhh… yeah, they’ll wanna know who they’re spending a week with, Eddie, c’mon, fake dating starts like… now…”

“So can I charge you from now?”

“Dude that’d be double—”

“Aren’t you rich?”

“I work minimum wage at Family Video for crying out loud, no I’m not rich. My parents are rich, I make enough to keep the lights on and keep my fridge stocked while they’re away. C’mon man… I can do a week, I have savings that’ll cover a week but two weeks? That’s fourteen-hundred, dude, I can’t—” Two weeks was stretching things uncomfortably far. Like… going into debt kind of far. He couldn’t ask his parents for money because they’d wanna know what it was for and for him to get a receipt and Eddie didn’t do receipts. Or refunds. “I might actually starve.”

“… Fine.” He almost argued, you live in a McMansion Steve, I live in a trailer park, but then… Steve did actually work at Family Video, wouldn’t just do that if he didn’t have to, who’s to say his parents paid for anything for him? Who’s to say they didn’t pull the ‘you’re an adult now, son, we’ll let you live here but you have to pull your own weight’ shtick parents were apparently so fond of? God what if they made him pay rent?

Eddie really didn’t know anything about the Harringtons.

Steve clearly didn’t go to college, so… maybe his dad wouldn’t hire him for a role he wasn’t qualified for? Unlikely but not impossible if recent discoveries concerning Steve Harrington were to be used as a reference point. Couldn't assume anything about him. “Fine?”

“Yeah, fine. How about, instead… we stick with my original rate an call it a flat seven hundred, fifty per day, an we start now? We can head to the trailer park an figure shit out there, deduct today so it’s only six fifty cause we’re brainstorming. My uncle may be home, but he should be asleep now. He works nights. We should be fine… unless you wanna head to yours and go in blind, take a ‘we’re figuring things out together awkwardly’ approach to it?” That’d track, he could do awkward, he could probab—

“Nah, they’d never think I was awkward at dating, even though you are a guy.” Of course they wouldn’t. Their lady killer son would never be awkward about dating… he wasn’t either, that was the kicker. He’d got all the way up in Eddie’s business not five minutes ago and looked comfortable doing it, like he actually would have practiced kissing in the back of Eddie’s beat up old van.

Holy shit he could have been making out with Steve Harrington in the back of his van.

He said not here, yeah?

What the shit was his problem?!

Was he actually completely insane?

He was going to be a virgin forever.

“You good there, Ed?”

“Huh?” He squeaked. Eddie Munson did not squeak, but yet, there he was. Squeakin away. “Oh! Y-yeah yeah, just coming to an abrupt unfortunate conclusion, yep, I am a-ok completely and totally oooone-hundreeeeeee— okay I came to a very real realisation that I could have been basically making out with you for ‘practice’ in the back of my van in the bushes where nobody could interrupt us and that could have gone anywhere cause it’s comfy back here yet i decided to tell you ‘not here, yeah?’ like a perma-virgin so— yeah.”

“Jeez… maybe you could pull off the awkward boyfriend thing.”

“…So about that fourteen hundred.”

Part 6

[kimsohn]

even if the world caves in,

pairing . chanhee x gn! reader (ft. vernon of seventeen) about . 13.5k words, fluff + angst, e2l fake-dating warnings . smoking, alcohol, cursing, suggestive (allusions to sex at the end), descriptive food mentions, y/n and chanhee are idiots chanhee lowkey doesn't deserve y/n, the plot kinda doesn't make sense but fuck it we ball ok, pls lmk if i missed things bc i probably did, also i wrote most of this at ungodly hours of the night and this is not proofread take this as your warning

synopsis . after your big break in cinema, the last thing on your mind is a relationship. unfortunately for you, the public has other plans, forcing you together with the journalist who's entire career is dedicated to your downfall. note . this is my submission for @deoboyznet's secret santa fic exchange! hihi @heemingyu i'm your secret santa!! (i'm so sorry this is like two days late and probably rushed forgive me) i went through like four different plots before settling on this one and writing it in one week 😭 i hope you enjoy!!! also thank you to @juyeonszn for staying up until 6am to beta for me what the fuck. ilysm. tagging . @invuwrld @gfksn @stealanity

Lately, the only thing that seems to greet you is the buzzing sound of your phone, incessant until silenced by your tired fingers.

You reach over as you stir awake, the action almost second nature to you as your hand catches ahold of the sleek object. You hit random buttons until your desired effect comes into play, answering the phone call and putting it on speaker, and you already know who it is before their voice even drifts through the microphone.

“Y/N! Get your ass up, you’re on the headlines.”

“Again?” you whine, rolling over in bed. “Is it good news or bad news this time?”

The man on the other end laughs, bitterly, and you push yourself off the bed in response. Your manager laughing, especially like that, is nothing amusing, and you rub your eyes as you try to get yourself awake.

“Oh, it’s bad, alright. Open your fucking phone, Y/N.”

You do exactly that, immediately thumbing over to Twitter and seeing your name trending. Afraid of which one of your many stupid decisions has made the headlines today, you press the hashtag, cringing at the first picture.

“Of course, they got pictures of me drunk,” you mutter, scrolling through the list. “Wasn’t this Juyeon’s private party, like months ago? How did these photos leak?”

“It doesn’t matter Y/N,” your manager sighs from the other side, and you feel a twinge of guilt for always putting him through this situation, “you’re an actor. Nothing in your life is private anymore, especially you pole dancing on top of the bar.”

Your facial muscles twitch as you come across the aforementioned picture, seeing yourself busting out dance moves on the marble. You have to hold back a laugh, seeing how something so ridiculously insignificant is dragging your name through the mud right now.

“But Vernon, you have to admit, the pictures are kinda hot.”

He grumbles on the other side before he cuts the call, and you fall into bed giggling, scrolling through other pictures. You have a cigarette in one hand and a tequila glass in the other, and that explains why you remember absolutely nothing about that day.

A text notification appears at the top of your screen, and you swipe down to see none other than Vernon who you were on call with five seconds ago. He’s sent you the link to an article followed by a message.

This is the article that leaked the video. Check out the name.

You click on the link, and your face falls at the name of the website. It falls even more when you see the name of the writer, and you press your fingers to your forehead. You immediately call Vernon again, watching the phone ring twice before he picks up.

“Can we fucking blacklist him, Vernon?” you seethe, gripping your phone tightly.

“I’m afraid not. He’s just a journalist, not a stalker.”

“He might as well be with the way he’s always up to date with my private information.”

You punch your pillow, watching your fist pathetically curl into the bedding. It doesn’t have its intended effect, only reminding you of how weak you are physically and mentally. You don’t get into scandals often, probably because you’re a rare, good person in the horrible field that is Hollywood, but whenever you do, you have one journalist to thank for it.

“I told you, nothing is private in your life anymore.”

Vernon goes off on a tangent about how you should’ve been more careful, how you shouldn’t have drunk your ass off, but you can’t find it within you to care. There was technically nothing wrong with what you did (except for maybe the indecency, but it’s a bar for fuck’s sake), but as a famous actor with a huge fanbase, you understand why your manager is angry. Dancing on top of a counter and smoking should not be the kind of precedent you set for your fans, especially the younger ones, and your actions have a lot more weight to them now that you’re in the public eye.

It’s just stupid because you’re a regular person. At the very least, you deserve to have some privacy regarding decisions you make, especially ones that are so insignificant. 

“Vernon,” you interrupt, “it’s okay. My movie is coming out later this week, so I think it’ll die down quickly.”

“I know, but you’re lucky that this was a trivial issue. If you get caught in something truly fucked up, another movie won’t be able to save you.”

“I’ll be more careful. I promise.”

He hangs up, reminding you that you have a screening to attend later today and an interview. Your eyes drift back to the article again, reading the headline.

Hollywood’s favorite celebrity turned dancer.

You shut your eyes, breathing in and out so you don’t lose your composure. The universe is lucky you’re a rational, decent human being because if you weren’t, the writer who’s been practically harassing you would’ve been long eliminated by now.

Choi Chanhee, you read, familiar with the name. The infamous writer that’s always on your tail. It’s as if he dedicates his whole life to ruining you because he’s always the first to write things that make your crown slip. Almost all of your scandals, from particularly stupid ones at the beginning of your career to your most recent one, have been written by him. He’s practically obsessed with you at this point, and you don’t know what it is about you that ticks him off.

You toss your phone to the side, trudging over to the bathroom to get ready. Unlike Chanhee, you don’t have the time or patience to worry about trivial things like gossip pages. Choi Chanhee is just one, minor obstacle in your way. Just someone insignificant.

A long time ago, the flashing lights of cameras would’ve blinded you. Now, as a seasoned actor, you’re quite immune to the brightness that surrounds you when you walk the red carpet. You smile and pose, reveling in the cameras and the interviews that follow, asking for details about your current movie and the process behind the scenes.

You’ve just finished off an interview about the movie’s wardrobe when a black-haired man comes up to you. The lens of his thick glasses shines against the cameras in the background, and you have to look down to avoid the glare from the reflection.

You read his name tag and your face drops. You immediately look up, putting on a forced grin.

“Choi Chanhee. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

He smiles, and the corners of his mouth curl as if he knows of your extensive distaste for him.

“It seems you know who I am already. Let’s get started with the interview then. First question: do you have anything to say regarding your latest scandal at the bar?”

You’re gritting through your teeth as you answer.

“No comment. Next question, please.”

“What are your opinions on the latest controversy surrounding Lee and Co., the production company behind your movie?”

He fires off a few questions, all as controversial as the last, and the only thing that keeps you from slapping him right there and then is your media training that Vernon had drilled into you while in the car.

“He will be there,” Vernon had said, fixing your watch, “don’t give him anything to work with. Just focus on promoting your movie.”

You’ve followed his advice for the solid ten minutes Chanhee has bombarded you, but even your patience is wearing thin. You’re tired of being asked about the same scandals repeatedly from different angles, and you have to admit that even if he’s doing an amazing job as a journalist, it’s not looking good for your conscience.

“Chanhee,” you interrupt, watching him pause in the middle of a question, “do you have any substantial questions about the movie, or are we done here?”

His face contorts as if he had just been thrown tomatoes at, and the devil in your brain beams from his expression. He flips through his notes, flicking through a couple of pages before landing on one that’s up to his liking.

“Okay, one last question then. Who was your favorite person to work with during this movie?”

You pause, mulling over the question. You watch as his eyes traverse his notes, and you wonder what trick he has up his sleeve. You guess that he will probably bring up something about the person who’s name you’ll recite, so you think carefully before answering.

“I don’t have one particular favorite. I love them all,” you answer honestly and safely, with no room for scrutiny.

He nods, shutting off the recorder before packing his bag and giving you a slight bow. The narcissist in your brain revels in how good he looks bowing down to you, but you pay your respects in return.

“Thank you for your time, Y/N.”

You watch as he saunters off, probably off to his crew, and you blink a few times before shifting your attention to the next reporter with an eager smile.

Hours later, you find yourself outside, exchanging the chaos inside for a fresh breath of air. Your director has indulged in an after-party, one you’re grateful for too, but after a couple of glasses of wine and many more hours of talking to fellow celebrities, you need a moment of solitude.

 The air outside is crisp and cool, and you find yourself wishing you’d brought your jacket out to accompany you. Your vision is slightly blurry and your stance is wobbly, but you find a bench nearby to take a seat at. You stare at the pond across from you for a while, throwing rocks into the water and watching how far they travel.

A cigarette accompanies you, and the puffs of air you release are visual representations of how relaxed you want to feel. You’ve just released a movie, and you should be thankful, but as an actor, your mind never rests due to the endless possibilities you can ponder over. Moments like these where you find yourself completely alone, with nothing to worry about, are rare, and you try to curb your mind from ruining the moment by overthinking.

However, your moment of peace is interrupted by a loud shutter behind you, and you quickly turn around, afraid of what the paparazzi would say if they caught you like this. A figure disappears around the corner, but as you hear the clacking of their footsteps, you know exactly who it must be.

“Chanhee, I know it’s you.”

Moments pass before he steps out from behind the wall, holding a camera in his hands. The object, in contrast to the suit he wears, is so uncoordinated that you burst into a fit of laughter, over-emotional from the wine you had earlier.

“Why are you laughing?” he asks cautiously, treading the waters.

“I didn’t know you were a photographer too! You’re an all-rounder for sure.”

“Look,” he whispers as if his guilt will excuse his actions, “I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s okay.” You pat the empty space next to you. “Here, sit next to me.”

He takes a seat warily, as if you have a gun in your hands, but relaxes once he sees you dangling your feet. It’s uncharacteristic for him to be sitting next to you, heck, even interacting with you, but you don’t seem to really mind as you throw another rock into the water.

“Why do you hate me?” you ask, staring at him with glossy eyes. “What did I do that was so wrong?”

“Are you drunk?” he asks instead, realizing this isn’t the pristine condition he saw you in a couple of hours ago.

“It doesn’t matter,” you sniffle. “What did I do to make you absolutely despise me?”

Chanhee sighs, staring at the ripples in the pond. He picks up a rock, swinging it as far as he can before it settles to the bottom of the pool. It goes way farther than any of the rocks you’d thrown before, and you pout miserably as you cease your ministrations.

“It’s my job. I get paid for writing about your downfall.”

“But… you don’t have to be so mean about it.”

Chanhee recognizes that he won’t get anywhere with this argument because you’re drunk, so instead, he turns to you, placing his hands on your shoulders so you look at him.

“Look, I’m sorry, okay? Here, I won’t even post the pictures that I took today.”

He deletes the pictures from his camera, showing you after it’s done, and you surprise him by throwing your arms around him. You’re too far gone to realize the weight of your actions, but he isn’t, so he tries to gently pry them off his shoulders.

“Thank you,” you whisper after he’s done, slumping across the bench half-asleep, “thank you for being nice. For once.”

He blinks once, twice, before he exhales, turning around on his heel and disappearing into the darkness. Later, when Vernon picks you up from the bench, you tell him that a pretty fairy saved you from disaster. He won’t believe you, but you know it’s true in your heart.

You’re nursing your hangover when you decide to turn on the news. You settle into your comfortable couch, holding a bowl of hangover soup and trying not to succumb to the pain radiating throughout your forehead.

Not often do you watch the news, choosing to opt out because it’s usually annoying and gives you a headache, but Vernon’s somehow using two devices to watch his show on Netflix so you’re forced to resort to this. You think you might die if you don’t distract yourself from the migraine that’s been occupying your senses, so the news will have to suffice.

You flick through the channels, not interested in the politics or the weather, but your fingers pause when a bright pink headline catches your eye. It’s the gossip channel, and this is usually the channel you’re warned to stay far away from, but you can’t help but watch the video playing when the headline specifically features your name.

Y/N caught in a secret relationship, embracing a secret lover by the pond.

Your mood turns sour when the clip features events from last night, ones that are still fuzzy in your brain. You didn’t expect to be reliving this situation, but your heart all but drops when you realize the snippet features you and Chanhee in the frame, hugging each other as if you had indeed been lovers. The worst part is that Chanhee didn’t even reciprocate, but that isn’t featured in the headline, so it truly does look like you two have a thing for each other.

This time around, you call Vernon first instead of the usual.

“Y/N,” he whispers groggily as if you had woken him up, “what happened?”

“Please turn on the fucking news Vernon.”

You hear shuffling from the other side, a few minutes of rustling before you hear the blaring of the TV and a similar sound drifting through his microphone. You get a few minutes of pin-drop silence before all hell breaks loose.

“Who the fuck is that?!” he exclaims, and you hear his feet angrily pacing around. “Was this last night? I thought I told you to be more careful, to look out for your surroundings—”

“Vernon, it’s Chanhee.”

The only thing you hear from Vernon is his angered breaths, and it takes mere seconds before you burst into tears, fed up by this situation and the terrible migraine you still have. You just want to curl up into a ball and never step foot into the universe again, and your resolve only strengthens when the line goes dead. You can’t help the tears that come to bay, rippling through you like a shockwave that never seems to end.

Insistent knocking at your door a few moments later is the only thing that stops the tears from falling, and you quickly wipe them before opening the door. Vernon stands at the other side, his hands in his pockets and eyebags above his cheeks, but his gaze softens when he sees your puffy eyes and you hugging yourself.

He brings you into his embrace, your tears staining his hoodie, but neither of you can find it in yourselves to care. Vernon just caresses your back, knowing the only thing you need right now is a gesture of comfort, and you burrow into his chest further. Right here, in the middle of your entryway, Vernon provides you with the best version of reassurance he can offer: a simple, caring hug.

“I was drunk,” you mutter when you’ve calmed down, speaking through the sniffles that escape you, “and we were just talking. You know I get touchy when I’m tipsy.”

“I figured,” he says, unraveling himself from your embrace. “Does the press know it’s him?”

“No, but I expect they’ll find out soon enough.”

You follow him as he takes a seat on the couch, watching the headlines on the TV. The gossip channel has long moved on from your news, but you haven’t, and fear of what will happen to either you or Chanhee is killing you.

“We need to contact him before then,” he voices, grabbing his phone from his pocket. “I think I know someone from his office.”

“Wait, why?” you ask, trying to peer over at his phone, watching him scroll through his contacts. “Wouldn’t it just be best to let the rumors die down?”

“If this was a celebrity, we could’ve done that. But Chanhee is a regular human being, and this could potentially destroy his career.”

“Isn’t that a good thing?” you murmur under your breath, watching Vernon deadpan.

“Look, I know you hate him, but he doesn’t deserve to be criticized for something he didn’t even do. Let’s just talk to him and see what he has to say, okay?”

You nod, falling back on the couch. The migraine still bothers you, and you rub your fingers across your forehead to massage it.

Five days ago, you would never have expected to be in this position. To you, Chanhee was just a name on a screen, a faceless figure haunting your dreams. How fitting is it that his very first encounter with you led to your worst nightmare?

You hear Vernon dial his contact, watching the phone ring several times before a line picks up. Vernon speaks gratefully, grabbing the pen and paper that you have lying around on your coffee table as he scribbles down some information.

“We have a meeting,” he says, showing you the piece of paper, “in five hours. Be ready by then.”

Just what exactly have you gotten yourself into?

The bright lights and white walls in the meeting room make it look like a prison cell, and the atmosphere does absolutely nothing to calm your nerves. You’re tapping your foot anxiously, sitting in an unfamiliar space in an unfamiliar building, but Chanhee requested a meeting in his office building, and you have no other choice but to go with it.

You’d be lying if you said you were nonchalant about the whole atmosphere, but you try to keep yourself composed as you wait for him to enter. Vernon sits beside you, going through some papers in his briefcase that only a manager would know about, and his presence is the only thing keeping you grounded right now.

“Just let me do the talking, okay?” he’d said before entering, “The last thing we need is another argument on our hands.”

Even though the comment offended you, you honestly would be better off trusting his judgment. You and Chanhee don’t exactly have the best track record, and if either one of you says something even slightly off, the room would probably explode into insults. You honestly don’t even have the strength anyway to hold up a fight, so you slump into your chair, adjusting your jacket and reeling in your patience.

The doorknob twists and you and Vernon straighten your postures, trying to look presentable for your audience. Chanhee enters, followed by a blonde-haired who you’d assume to be his boss, and you rise so you can shake their hands. Chanhee ignores your attempt at waving a white flag, choosing to shake Vernon’s instead before sitting down at a seat, but his boss smiles and grabs your palm tightly in his.

“Hello, I’m Sangyeon. It’s nice to meet you.”

You exchange pleasantries as you sit down, and once you get over the initial awkwardness, you shut your mouth and wait for Vernon to speak up.

“So, I’m sure you guys have seen the news and are well aware of why we’re here.”

Sangyeon nods, urging him to continue.

“I understand what you might be feeling right now Chanhee,” Vernon follows, catching Chanhee’s gaze, “and we’re extremely sorry for the trouble that this has caused you. However, I have a proposition that might benefit both parties, if you are interested.”

Chanhee’s silence prompts Vernon’s explanation, and you lean in, curious about what he has to say too. Vernon had offhandedly mentioned that he had a deal to make, but you don’t have the slightest clue as to what he’s about to propose.

“I was thinking we play into the rumors. We can say Y/N and Chanhee met at a press conference and hit it off a couple of weeks ago. After we plan a few more appearances, we can stage a public breakup in a few weeks so that everything can go back to normal.”

You blanch, ready to refuse the idea, but Chanhee beats you to it.

“Why would I agree to a relationship with Y/N?”

“Hey,” you start, offended by his implications, “what’s wrong with dating me?”

Chanhee scoffs.

“Don’t even start, Y/N. This is all your fault after all. I didn’t know you liked me that much that you couldn’t keep your hands off me.”

You’re seeing blood red, crazed at the malice behind his words.

“I was tipsy! And how was I supposed to know that someone was stalking us? If anything, it was your fault for deleting those pictures and being nice to me.”

The room erupts into chaos as you throw petty insults at each other, similar to a catfight. It takes Vernon holding you back physically to get you to calm down, but even after you’ve calmed down, you’re still staring daggers at him.

“Look, Chanhee, I understand this is not ideal for either of you given the nature of your jobs. But if you think about it, when the press finds out that it’s you in the picture, how will you be able to resume your writing? Who will take you seriously if you write hate articles about the very person that you were caught with?” Vernon asks, trying to reason with him.

Chanhee falls into silence, and he looks at his manager. His manager offers him a pitiful glance, knowing that Vernon is right.

“You don’t have to be lovey-dovey with each other,” Vernon continues, hoping to ease the terms. “You just have to appear in public for a couple of dates. We can use your old articles to prove that you guys have had romantic tension, so we’ll have background evidence too. When Y/N breaks your heart in a couple of weeks, you’ll have the perfect reason to continue writing hate articles.”

“It’s like enemies to lovers to… enemies, right?” Sangyeon asks, humming after Vernon nods, “I think it’s a good idea Chanhee. You’ll gain a lot more exposure after the whole thing is over too. If we continue going as it is, the press will ruin your career, and I’d have no other choice but to fire you. I think this is the best decision for your future and the company.”

Chanhee sighs, rubbing his temples. As much as you despise him, you can sympathize with the fact that he has a difficult decision looming over his head. The fate of his career rests in your hands, the person he’s dedicated a lifetime to ruining, and you can imagine just how insane his internal conflict might be.

“I’ll do it,” you voice, watching the room’s reactions carefully.

Chanhee’s eyes shoot up at you, clearly not expecting your admission.

“I would hate to be the reason you had to quit something you love. Besides, I’ve been in too many scandals recently anyway; I think a relationship could do my career some good.”

You don’t know if your attempt at a joke resonated with him, but his shoulders relax and he bores his eyes into you. His eyes are sharp and feline-like, but his brown pupils are almost the exact opposite, thoughtful and deep. He’s a little pretty, you realize, when he’s not trying to sabotage your entire career.

You’ve tried to stay level-headed after your argument earlier, as a gesture to Vernon, but you can’t contain your surprise when he nods a few minutes later.

“Okay, I’ll go with your plan. But I want four weeks, not five.”

“Deal,” you say, reaching over with an open palm before Vernon can even say anything.

This time around, Chanhee does reciprocate your gesture, shaking your hand firmly. The white flag flies freely over your heads, and you can only pray that these next four weeks will be over just as quickly as they started.

The news blows up fairly quickly after it’s published, even faster than any of the scandals you’ve been in. After the announcement your companies sent out confirming your relationship, you posted a picture of Chanhee to your Instagram story to show support from your side. Never have you garnered so many notifications in a single day, but you’re not complaining. You suppose your fans have also been waiting for you to get into a serious relationship, seeing that you’ve been single since your acting debut, so the update is received with a mostly positive reaction that you’re thankful for.

However, just the news and a picture alone aren’t going to cut it. Arguably, the hardest part of this whole ordeal is your interactions with Chanhee, making your relationship believable enough so your fans don’t think this is the PR stunt like it really is. Your first order of business is taking Chanhee along on a date tonight to a movie premiere, the first actual public appearance you two will be making.

To say you’re nervous is an understatement. The last time you saw Chanhee, it took Vernon’s presence to stop you from biting his head off. How will you even survive a whole event together, let alone act like a couple?

You tell Chanhee to show up a couple of hours earlier so you can plan out the details, unable to keep your nervousness at bay. You don’t know if Chanhee is as anxious as you, but Vernon always says it’s good to stick to a plan, so calling him over isn’t the worst idea you’ve ever had.

Actually, it might be a little bit bad.

“Wow,” you say, your throat suddenly parched from seeing his clothing, “you clean up nicely.”

Nice is the simplest you could describe his outfit. He’s wearing a black suit, indented polka dots scattered across the black cloth. Paired with a white shirt underneath and matching tie, along with those round glasses that are definitely growing on you, he looks just like another A-list celebrity in the crowd. Maybe even a model if you would care to admit it.

“Thanks,” he mutters, unbuttoning the jacket to strew it across your couch, “it’s kinda hot in here, no?”

You would agree, but your mind is currently occupied with how delicious he looks in just a simple white shirt and a tie. You have half a mind to tell him that he really should quit his job and become a model instead, but you settle for nodding instead.

“It’s probably because of all the facial stuff we did earlier,” your stylist Kevin says, walking over to place clips in your hair, “it’ll calm down in a little bit.”

Chanhee’s eyes widen when Kevin enters, his eyes staring at you in panic and moving over to Kevin before they travel back to you. You laugh, amused with how seriously he’s playing the part.

“He knows,” you reassure him, “most of my close staff know, so you don’t need to worry.”

Chanhee exhales in relief, his head drooping down into his arms. Kevin meets your gaze before quirking an eyebrow, and you shake your head, not wanting to indulge in his teasing.

“Okay,” Chanhee says after he’s calmed down, leaning into the couch, “what’s the plan?”

“Well, since this is our first time in public together, we can keep it simple,” you start, wincing when Kevin tugs on part of your hair a little too hard, “maybe holding hands, walking next to each other, maybe a hug if we’re up for it.”

Chanhee looks disgusted, and you honestly can’t even disagree with him. You’re not exactly happy about jumping straight into skin-to-skin contact with the guy you hate, but this is the bare minimum for a relationship and you intend to follow through.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you sigh. “You do know that we’re going to have to kiss at some point, right? This is probably the tamest we’ll get.”

“Hey, don’t haunt the poor guy,” Kevin says, pulling out a makeup palette. “Just take it slow, okay? It’ll be a while before you get to that stage.”

You disappear into your bedroom to change after Kevin is done with your styling, and Chanhee visibly relaxes once you’re gone. It’s not like he wants to murder you with every fiber of his being, but something about you puts him on edge, and he can’t tell what it is.

“Are you still stressed about the kissing thing, dude?” Kevin asks while packing up his supplies. “Y/N’s just saying that to scare you, so don’t worry. Besides, after you see them in this outfit, you might change your mind.”

Kevin leaves with a wink, and Chanhee is left to scramble for its implications. You can’t possibly look good enough to kiss, right? He’s seen you countless times, and the only time his resolve ever-so-slightly wavered was when he saw you in person about a week ago. That was because you were drunk, though, of course. Not because he was facing you, flesh to flesh, for the first time in his life.

His overthinking ceases though when you step out of your bedroom, and he can’t stop Kevin’s words from floating through his brain.

You’re beauty personified, he thinks, from the tips of your curled hair to the bottom of your glass footwear. The silver-length outfit you adorn is something to die for, heck, you are someone to die for, and Chanhee can’t even breathe because he just imagined you standing next to him and the room is suddenly very, very hot.

“Ready to go?” you ask, adjusting a couple of rings on your fingers.

Chanhee dumbly nods, now realizing why literally everyone is in love with you, and he stands abruptly. He follows you to the front like a puppy dog before you turn around and start giggling. He doesn’t even register you speaking because suddenly, your giggles aren’t annoying and all of your sounds are like songbirds from heaven.

“You forgot your blazer, silly. Here, I’ll get it.”

While you turn back around, walking to the sofa, Chanhee slaps himself. Gently, of course, because he doesn’t want to ruin his face before the red carpet, but just enough to remind himself of his position in this whole scheme. You’re a celebrity, obviously you look good, and he can’t lose his morals just because you look stunning after being dolled up.

You’re a celebrity and he’s a journalist. A journalist who gets paid to antagonize you. Realistically speaking, even just meeting you should have him seeing red. He should not of all things, be pretending to date you, and he definitely should not be reconsidering his life decisions after spending two hours with you.

He just has to get through these four weeks. You’ll be out of sight, out of mind before he even knows it.

“When the cameras start flashing, just look forward. Don’t ever look at them straight in the eye, otherwise, you’ll feel dizzy.”

Chanhee grumbles as you continue rambling, but you can’t find it within you to stop. You’ve never had a public relationship like this, especially with someone who’s not a celebrity, so the desire for perfection is getting to you.

Any small thing could fuck this up and not only ruin Chanhee’s career but yours too. What would the public think if they found out you were lying about a relationship? Heck, you wouldn’t be able to trust your own self after that, let alone the public.

“Y/N, it’ll be okay. It’s just handholding and a hug, right?”

“Yeah, but we need to look like we’re in love,” you huff, your head drooping as you play with your fingers in your lap.

You feel a hand cup the side of your chin, bringing you up to Chanhee’s gaze.

“Look at me,” he starts, thumbing your cheek, “we’ll be fine. Just stare into my eyes like this, and no one will ever doubt us.”

You don’t get to tell him that you might be believing it too with the way you can’t stop gazing at the twinkle in his eyes and the fondness in how they crease. You’ve met many gorgeous celebrities in your life, but not once have you ever felt your heart beat so heavily until this moment.

“We’re here,” Vernon interrupts from the front seat, breaking your intense gaze, “get ready.”

The flashing blinds you as soon as the car door opens, but you’re immune to the glares at this point. Chanhee, however, is not, so your only focus is being by his side until you walk inside the venue. You exit first, waiting until he steps out beside you before interlacing your fingers together and offering him a chaste smile, hoping it’ll calm his nerves.

He grips your hand tighter as you walk, and you both ignore the press shouting from around you. The screams seem extra prevalent today due to his presence, and you hope he isn’t feeling bombarded by the chaos around him. You focus on Chanhee, watching as he stares back at you to ground himself. You walk quickly in unison with him, counting your steps and smiling for the camera as you finally step inside the entryway.

“Are you okay?” you ask after you’re situated, having a few minutes of peace before you’re off to star on the red carpet. “I know that must’ve been a lot.”

“It’s fine. It’s over now. It was chaotic, but it helped to just focus on you.”

A twinge of heat flutters across your cheeks, but you pay no attention to it.

“I’m glad. Don’t worry, we don’t have any more red carpets in our schedule.”

He unlaces his fingers from yours, something you’d completely forgotten about, but you don’t have time to mull over the loss of his warmth before Vernon pushes you to the red carpet to get ready for the pictures. You take deep breaths, reveling in the mere seconds you get before the flashing starts again and you are simply an object for the camera. You pose, striking a big grin for the camera and remembering your media training. This is what you do best, being a celebrity, and suddenly you find comfort in this familiarity after all the turmoil you’ve been through the past couple of days. No Chanhee, no relationship, no headlines, just you and the camera like always.

However, you can’t stop your eyes from wandering when you get a break, watching Chanhee converse with Vernon. You let your daydreams drift, wondering how he would look like posing next to you for the camera, how he would laugh and answer questions about your relationship so giddily, or even how he’d stare into your soul like earlier before, bearing his heart for the taking.

You know that he won’t even meet your gaze after the four weeks are over, but you let yourself indulge in your imagination anyway. You’ve been touch-starved for so long, so it’s only natural that you have these thoughts about affection, right?

You walk back to Chanhee after you’re done, joining him and Vernon as you travel the venue. The place looks spectacular, with intricate chandeliers and a whole buffet of delicacies, and you make it a point in your mind to compliment the mastermind behind this all, Juyeon, when you see him.

Vernon leads you guys over to the food, piling the spring rolls on his plate until you glare at him to stop. Chanhee restrains laughter behind a mouth full of cupcakes, but even you have to agree with Vernon’s eagerness when you take a bite of the macadamia cookies. You’re on your fourth one when Juyeon saunters over to you, his goofy grin ever-so-present on his face.

“Y/N! Long time no see, right? I haven’t talked to you since my party months ago.”

“It’s been too long. I love the venue, by the way. You always outdo yourself.”

“Don’t talk to me about outdoing things. Look at you with your new boyfriend!”

You glance over at Chanhee, who’s busy trying to see how many spring rolls Vernon can fit in his mouth. You grimace, turning back to Juyeon. You know Vernon’s your manager, but sometimes it feels like you have to keep him on a leash instead of the other way around.

“Yeah it’s… a recent development, but I’m happy.”

“I’m surprised you got into a relationship in the first place. After you rejected me, I kinda thought you weren’t looking for love.”

Juyeon clutches his chest in fake agony, and you roll your eyes. Juyeon asked you out years ago when he was the director of your film, and he never fails to bring it up whenever he sees you. You still aren’t looking for love, of course, but your recent news is probably a shock to Juyeon and the many other people you’ve rejected over the years.

“I’m not incapable of love, Juyeon,” you sigh, looking back at Chanhee again, “I just needed to find the right person.”

The word love has never meant anything special to you, but when you look at Chanhee, you feel your heartstrings pull at your chest. Finally having a boyfriend, even if he’s fake, means you have the ability to love and be loved, and maybe you’ve been denying yourself happiness far too long for the wrong reasons.

As you wave Juyeon goodbye, sauntering over to Chanhee, you walk with a change in mindset. The situation you’re stuck in isn’t perfect, but you decide that it’s best to make the most out of it.

“Y/N, watch out!”

Suddenly, your whole world turns upside down, and you brace yourself as you fall backward, watching the twinkling of the chandeliers above you. You shut your eyes as a reflex, expecting the hardness of the wooden floor beneath you, but instead, you feel a strong hand supporting your back. You open your eyes to see Chanhee, but as his orbs bore into yours, all words tie on the tip of your tongue.

This close to him, you can see his faint eyeliner, the slight curve of his nose, and the barely visible mole on his top lips. It feels like the world is spinning still, but as Chanhee breathes, exhaling a soft puff of air, your gaze remains grounded only on him as he cradles you gently.

The sound of a camera startles you both, and Chanhee pulls you up, staring at Vernon. You smooth down your clothing, clearing your throat as you eye the culprit.

“What was that for?” you ask, throat slightly parched by what happened mere seconds ago.

“Whatever practice you guys did together before coming here definitely worked, because this picture definitely looks like you’re in love. I’m gonna leak it to a local magazine, so good job for today’s work.”

Your cheeks burn as he shows you the picture, and your gaze flits over to Chanhee. His expression is indiscernible, and you have the sudden urge to know exactly what’s running through his mind. Was he just as affected as you, or was this just a mere act of kindness?

The rational part of your brain hopes it’s the latter, but the heaviness of your heart might have different aspirations.

Your phone dings as you finish applying the last bits of your mascara, and you pad over to your couch, seeing Chanhee’s text message on the top of your screen.

Be there in five.

It’s been a week since Juyeon’s movie premiere, a week since your heart has practically gone haywire. You’re a celebrity, if anything, you’re the last person to be looking forward to a text, but you found yourself checking Chanhee’s chat every morning and being disappointed when nothing rolled in. Even when Vernon’s picture leaked and the internet blew up over your coupling, his message bar still remained dry and lifeless.

He didn’t have any reason to text you anyway, so you wonder why you always looked forward to one.

You were the one to reach out first, letting him know that you had a date scheduled for Saturday night according to Vernon’s schedule. A meeting once per week was mandatory, just to keep up the image, and today’s plan was a nice, fancy dinner at a restaurant.

Chanhee, like a true gentleman, offered to pick you up instantly after you’d sent him the message, and you let yourself feel elated for five seconds before you texted him the time and place. You don’t know why Chanhee reduces you to a middle school girl longing for her crush, but you suppose it’s just because you haven’t been on a proper date in so long.

You’re dressed in blue satin, a dress you’d had no real reason to wear until today, and you’ve tried your best to clean up without Kevin’s help. You send a quick picture to your stylist as you wait, asking for advice even though you know you always look good, but Kevin just sends you a string of heart emojis in return and tells you that you look perfect.

Three sharp knocks on the door indicate Chanhee’s presence, and you open the door. The words on your throat die down when you realize he’s wearing a similar blue satin to yours, and it only takes one flicker of your eyes to meet his for him to start laughing.

“Are you stalking me or something?” he teases, pulling out a bouquet of fresh flowers.

“What’s this for?” you ask, setting them on the vase inside.

“Vernon told me to. He said you always like getting flowers on a date.”

You haven’t been on a date in years, so you don’t know where Vernon got this information from, but you appreciate the gesture nonetheless. The arrangement of peonies, lilies, and daffodils looks stunning on the countertop, and you post a quick picture to your Instagram story before heading out with Chanhee.

“Do you want the aux?” he asks when you’ve situated yourselves in his car.

The wind blows freely as he drives, the night sky twinkling through Chanhee’s open convertible. The rich red color of his Toyota Solara stands out against the deepness of the blackness around you two, but you can only focus on Chanhee’s side profile and the glittering earrings he’s wearing. Up until this point, you’ve only ever been in spaces you were familiar with. Seeing Chanhee in his own car is a completely different atmosphere for you, and you’re not sure how it makes you feel.

“I’m good. Play whatever you like,” you reply, truly interested to see what type of music he listens to.

Paris in the Rain drifts through the speakers, and you have to fight back a smile at the tune. Of course he would play this song on a night drive, judging by its mellow atmospheric feel, but you’re not mad about it.

“Why did you choose this restaurant?” he continues after the song settles, looking over at you when he pulls to a stop in front of a red light.

You have to recenter your thoughts to answer him, bringing your vision back from how ethereal he looks against the red tones of the stoplight.

“It’s been on my list for a while,” you admit honestly. “It’s also not super high scale, so someone will definitely notice us being there.”

Chanhee nods before quieting down as the red light fades into green. You’ve noticed that Chanhee tends to sit in silence when he’s with you, not interacting as much as he had with Vernon at the premiere. You wonder if he’s just naturally silent and hit it off with Vernon or maybe if he’s just hates you.

“Are you always this quiet?” you voice when he slows down due to traffic, not wanting him to feel alienated by the question.

“Ah, not really,” he says, scratching his head, “I just didn’t know if you were comfortable with me talking since we’re technically just coworkers.”

“Oh,” you voice, not expecting his admission.

You didn’t foresee him being so considerate of your feelings, enough to stop talking completely, and the thought warms your heart. Maybe he’s not such a bad person after all, you think, staring at him expectantly.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have admitted that,” he expresses. “I can go back to sitting in silence.”

“No!” you exclaim, and he looks over at you with slight alarm, “I mean, it’s fine. You talking is fine. You don’t need to restrict yourself from speaking just because we’re in a work setting. I don’t mind you talking.”

His shoulders relax as he steps on the gas, maneuvering through the gaps of the traffic that’s slowly clearing.

“That’s good,” he mutters, flicking on his blinker, “cause otherwise, this would’ve been a very awkward dinner date.”

You fight back a smile as he pulls up to the restaurant, and you don’t even have a chance to open your own door before he’s unlocking it for you. You thank him politely before walking inside, side by side with Chanhee. You follow the receptionist to your table once she gets your section cleared, and you’re offered complimentary chips and salsa as you wait for your food to arrive.

“You said this place was not ‘super high scale’?” Chanhee questions, looking around at the décor.

Okay, so maybe it is a little bit classy. The mediterranean themed restaurant has a cozy interior, and you’re currently sitting on wicker chairs by a huge glass window. The setting feels very exposed, as if you truly are sitting outside with the stars hanging over your heads. Subtle things about the place remind you that it’s elegant, such as the intricate menus and the tons of cutlery that sits next to you, but you hoped that it was something more comfortable for Chanhee to acclimate to.

“Why, is it too much?” you ask, picking up a chip.

“It’s not, but this is definitely fancy in my world.”

You smile, watching Chanhee be starstruck by his surroundings.

“Just because I’m famous now doesn’t mean I always was,” you start, “before I got my big break, my version of fancy was a dine-in restaurant.”

He laughs, relaxing a little.

“I didn’t know we were so similar. I just always assumed you were a nepo baby or something like that.”

“Just because you hate me doesn’t mean I’m privileged. I worked hard to get here, you know.”

Chanhee nods as your waiter brings out your food, and the two of you immediately dig in. The appealing smells make your stomach hungrier than usual, and it takes a good few minutes for you to settle your appetite before you start conversing with Chanhee.

Now that the awkwardness is gone and that you have a simple understanding of each other, talking with him is easy. Putting aside all the hatred that’s spewed up these past few months, you find out that Chanhee is actually an amiable person, someone you could’ve seen yourself being friends with if you two weren’t so different. He shares stories about growing up and his family in exchange for yours, and you have to clutch your stomach in laughter when he slips in a joke that matches your taste exactly.

Being with Chanhee is natural, so much that you wish you had met him under different circumstances. In addition to being a friendly person, he’s also a gentleman, from the way he slips his card under the menu without you noticing (you definitely scolded him for it later) and opens the car door whenever you get in and out. As he walks you up to your apartment, you thank him honestly for tonight, regretting that your time together is already over for the day.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers suddenly when you’re outside your door. “I’ve written so much shit about you without being an honest judge of your character.”

“It’s okay, Chanhee. This is what you do for a living, I get it.”

“No, you deserve an apology. You’re an amazing actor and an even better human being. You didn’t deserve a single word I wrote about you.”

You’re not tipsy this time around, but you pull him into a hug anyway. This time, you actually mean it though, and you try to disregard the loss of warmth when he pulls away after a few moments.

“Thank you for tonight,” you murmur, stepping into your apartment. “See you next week.”

He smiles, and suddenly, the room is filled with sunshine.

“No, thank you. See you soon.”

You woke up the next morning with a text from Chanhee. The texts have not stopped coming in ever since you responded, as if you’ve opened the floodgates of interaction. You wish he’d texted you sooner, because even though he bombards you with everything in the world from funny memes to just crying about his day, you love returning the same energy.

Where are you rn, a text flies in, and you smile when you see who it’s from.

on set. wbu?

Driving to somewhere special!

oooh spill??

I’ll let you know after I get there

You frown, not so pleased with his secrecy. You hate secrets, and so does Chanhee, so why is he indulging in one right now?

You don’t have time to mull over it as your director calls you back over, ready to continue with the shot. Your costar Younghoon stands before you, smiling as his assistant fixes up his hair before clearing his throat.

“Ready for this scene? It’s a lot,” he comments, reading over the script one more time.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” you sigh, watching for your director’s call.

The line starts rolling a few seconds later, and you immediately straighten your posture, preparing yourself for the scene.

“Hey,” you whisper, “what was so wrong about what I did?”

He laughs bitterly, pointing to the papers on the desk beside him.

“What was so wrong? You ruined my entire career!”

The papers fly around you as he wipes them off the desk in one sweep, and tears well up in your eyes once you look at his angry gaze.

“I’m sorry,” you plead, clutching onto his arm, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know this was going to happen, I swear—”

“You didn’t know?” he asks, although it’s more of a statement, “you’re the editor for the goddamn newspaper! Of course you fucking knew this was going to happen!”

He rips his wrist from your fingers, inching away from you.

“It’s my job to write the news, darling. You have to understand—” you cry, dropping to the ground.

The papers shift around you, and you watch your tears drip onto the headlines.

“We’re done,” he utters, one final phrase before he rips off his ring, throwing it by your feet. “Never speak to me again.”

“And cut!” your director shouts, “good work guys. Take 30.”

Younghoon helps you up from the ground, and you whisper gratitude before brushing off your ankles. The wooden floor was uncomfortable to kneel on, but you’re grateful that it was only for a short period of time.

“Y/N!” you hear from the other end of the room, and you peek over Younghoon’s broad shoulders to see a familiar figure waving.

“Chanhee?” you gasp, walking over to him once he register his voice. “What are you doing here?”

“Surprise?” he replies, giving you the bouqet of flowers he was holding. “I wanted to be a good boyfriend and surprise you on set.”

“Thank you,” you reply, grabbing the flowers from his hands before leaning in closer, “did Vernon put you up to this?”

“Um…” he starts, scratching the back of his head, “yeah, definitely. It’s the middle of the week, so why else would I be here?”

You roll your eyes, leaning back before you reach for his arm, squeezing it tightly.

“Thank you, regardless. No one’s ever visited me on set before like this. Even Vernon.”

“Really?” he asks, sounding surprised, “I thought you would have a lot of people around you like that.”

“I have acquaintances, but they’re all busy too. The most someone’s ever done for me is send me a food truck, and that was from my own mother.”

“Well, I’ll be here from now on, then.”

You feel a pang in your chest, and Chanhee must notice the shift in the atmosphere too because he clears his throat. You both know that this arrangement is already halfway over, so why do Chanhee’s words feel so comfortable, as if you both were in a regular relationship from the very beginning?

“Hey, I didn’t mean it like that—”

“Y/N? Is this the boyfriend?” Younghoon interrupts, walking up from behind with an outstretched arm. “Hey, I’m Younghoon, the costar. Nice to meet you, man.”

Chanhee smiles, plastering a smile to cover his previous frown before taking Younghoon’s hand in his, shaking it firmly.

“Nice to meet you too. Y/N’s been telling me about you, so it’s nice to finally put a face to the name.”

Younghoon laughs, removing his hand from Chanhee’s grip.

“Yeah, it’s surreal working on this movie. It’s kinda funny how Chanhee’s a journalist because Y/N plays one in this movie too.”

Chanhee turns to you, surprised by this new piece of information. You’ve been pretty lowkey about the role, not wanting to tell anyone until the movie wrapped up filming, but Younghoon seems to trust Chanhee with the information because he’s your boyfriend.

“Really? I didn’t know.”

You nod in confirmation, grinning slightly.

“Yeah, we just finished up a heavy argument scene before you arrived. Wanna see the set?”

You and Younghoon parade Chanhee around, introducing him to other actors and cast on the set working diligently. Chanhee is in awe, starstruck by the unfamiliar environment and you can’t really blame him. The movie industry in and of itself is a dream, and witnessing it for the first time is probably exhilarating for him.

After your break wraps up, you lead Chanhee out, standing by the front of the garage. He still has stars in his eyes, and you have to nudge his shoulder twice before he pays attention to you.

“Sorry, I just… I wanted to be a director once, so seeing this all is kind of a dream come true.”

Your eyes widen. Whatever you were expecting to come out of his mouth was not even close to what he just said, and you’re still processing his words when you voice your confusion.

“Yeah, that’s how I learned writing and photography. I used to write screenplays and direct them, but I never made it big like I wanted to. Luckily, Sangyeon took me in when I was struggling, and that’s the only reason I have a job today.”

Suddenly, you know nothing about Chanhee. If events had played out a little differently, Chanhee could be standing right in front of you, not as a fake boyfriend but as a director. You wouldn’t be from two separate worlds anymore, and the thought is killing you.

“Do you still direct?” you ask uncertainly, unsure of what to even say after his confession.

“Nah, not anymore. I help my friends out with short films sometimes, but that’s about it.”

“If you ever want to get back into directing, I can help you out.”

Chanhee looks like his breath has been stolen away, staring at you dumbly.

“I don’t know if I can give you a position directly, but I can definitely link you up with fellow directors of mine and see if there are any film festivals looking for submissions.”

“Thank you,” he mutters hoarsely, “I don’t have an answer for you right now, but what you just said means the world to me.”

Chanhee does the unexpected, wrapping you in a hug this time around. It’s meaningful and tender, and he burrows himself into you as he clutches your shoulders tightly, never wanting to let go. The same shoulders that he once tried to pry your hands off are now encircling you, and you smile against his cheek.

“It’s no problem,” you voice honestly, pulling back to look at him. “I’m always here for you, just remember that.”

You told him the last date would be a little different, but seriously, Chanhee was not expecting a van.

You wave from the front seat, putting aside your phone as he scrambles into the front seat. Chanhee quirks an eyebrow at you, urging you to spill, and you take in a deep breath as you struggle to get the words out.

“So… um, you know how celebrity couples usually have pictures of them making out in their cars, right?”

Chanhee stares at you incredulously, and you grimace, biting your lip.

“I know it sounds bad, but it was Vernon’s idea, I promise! We just need to kiss a couple of times for the pictures, that’s it. It can’t be too bad, right?”

“Y/N,” Chanhee sighs, massaging his temples, “are you crazy? We haven’t even kissed once before this.”

“Well, now is a good time to start, right?” you ask sheepishly, “Look, Vernon paid some guys to photograph us, so they’ll be here any time now. Let’s just get this over with.”

Before he can even blink, you clamber over into his lap, resting your legs on either side of his and holding onto his shoulders. Chanhee gulps, too loudly for the silence that settles between you two, and he’s close enough to you that he can feel your heartbeat thumping wildly.

Good to know that you’re just as affected as him too.

You guide his arms around your waist, securing them tightly before looking back up at Chanhee. The last time he’s ever seen you this close is from when he saved you from falling, and somewhere in the depths of his heart, he admits to himself how much he actually missed it. The fluttering of your lashes, the indents of your mouth, and the sliver of your jawline are all something he wants to commit to memory, to burn into his mind before he loses you.

Chanhee would write a whole article just about your lips if he had to.

“Ready?” you ask, so close that he can feel your breath on his.

He nods, and before he can even lick his lips, you lean in, meeting him halfway with yours.

Chanhee feels like he’s in oblivion, completely succumbing to the darkness that you’ve slowly been feeding him with. You’re like poison, and as he slots his lips against yours, he can’t get enough. You’re killing him with the way you pull him in closer, imperceptibly close as if you two aren’t practically molded together already, and as Chanhee uses one of his arms to tilt your neck, you reciprocate with just as much fervor.

You pull back, catching your breath and your chest heaving, but it takes Chanhee only one glance at your swollen lips before pulling you back in again. He’s addicted to the way your tongue swipes across his entrance, the way you shiver as he gently tugs your bottom lip between your lips, and the way you clutch onto his hair as the two of you exchange life through your kisses.

“Just a couple, baby?” he whispers, pecking down the side of your face, “I can give you a lot more than that.”

He tugs your sleeve down as you whine, tilting your head to give him better access to the area. He nips and sucks at your collarbone, biting hard enough to bruise in spots that you’ll probably scold him for later. He wants them to be deep enough, red enough that you won’t even be able to cover them so the whole world will know you’re his, and he knows it’s well worth it with the way you groan as he keeps going.

“I wish could stay like this forever,” you gasp, preening away when he nips behind your earlobe. “I never want to let you go. My boyfriend. Mine. Forever.”

He hums in agreement, pressing a kiss to your neck before he stops. You whimper, angry at him for pausing his ministrations, but as he processes your words, the hazy fog he was in moments prior fades away, and all that is left is the consequences of his actions.

“What’s wrong?” you ask when you realize he’s stopped completely.

Chanhee is shaking from underneath you, glassy-eyed, and his fingers tremble as he removes them from your body.

“Boyfriend,” he dumbly repeats, and you nod before realizing the mistake you made.

“Chanhee, I—”

“Get off me. Please.”

You stare at him incredulously, and when he doesn’t make any move to take back his words, you climb off him and into the seat next to you.

“This is all fake. Why do I keep forgetting that?”

He laughs bitterly, watching as your face morphs into a frown. How could he be so careless, to lose himself in you when this is all clearly just an act?

“Chanhee, I know this was planned, but the way I kissed you was definitely not fake.”

You sound hurt, and if he was in a better headspace, he would be calmer with his words, but the weight of what just happened is sinking down on him hard. Suddenly, he needs to leave, to never see you again and to not spend any more time in this stupid, suffocating van. He opens the door, climbing out before shutting it behind him firmly, breathing in heavily as he staggers away from the vehicle.

“Chanhee,” you cry, running up behind him and grabbing onto his wrist, “you don’t understand!”

“Then help me understand!”

“I like you,” you whisper, and suddenly, his whole world shatters.

“Of course you like me,” he laughs, running a hand over his face. “Do you not realize that you have an insane amount of privilege to be saying that? I can’t even like you in return because my career hinges on hating you! Don’t you get it, Y/N?”

You’re full on sobbing now, observing as he wrenches your hand away from his. Your fingers fall limply to your side and all you can do is watch as he walks away, shaking his head.

“Don’t contact me. I never want to see you again. Fuck you, for real, for playing with my feelings.”

You can only stare as the love of your life walks away, leaving your universe in shambles.

Unfortunately, just because you encountered the worst breakup of your life does not mean the world stops moving.

You’re at another after party, one that you’d been looking forward to for months because it would finally mean you’d get to catch up with some of your old costars. However, after the chaos that had befallen you earlier this week, going to some stupid nightclub was the last thing on your mind.

Really, you’re only here because Vernon is sick and tired of you wallowing in your misery. He thinks that you’ll be getting a change of scenery by being here, but the only thing you’ve been getting is shots filled with the strongest alcohol the bar can offer. Your one goal is to successfully forget about the black-haired man that ruined your life, and your plan is effective until the bartender stops you from getting another round and tells you to get some fresh air.

You grumble as you stumble out of the bar, finding a home on the gray sidewalk in front of it. Your sequined outfit digs into your skin as you sit down, but in your drunken stupor, you can’t find it within yourself to care. You’re lucky enough that this is a nicer venue, because there’s no one around to bother you to find another spot. It’s just you and your thoughts, and you can’t tell if that’s more dangerous or not.

Your first order of business is to pull out your phone, scrolling through your recent contacts. You have half a mind to call Vernon, to curse him out from condemning you to the hell that is this place, but instead your finger hovers over a familiar contact.

You are so going to hate yourself when you wake up.

The line rings, once, twice, thrice, and just as you’re about to cut the call, a voice answers from the other side.

“Y/N, it’s three in the morning. I thought I told you not to contact me,” Chanhee whispers groggily.

“Well too bad! You’re the one that said all that shit to me and left, so how unfair is it that I don’t get my turn?”

The line goes silent before Chanhee scoffs, and you can hear the bedsheets rustle around him as he gets up.

“Are you drunk?”

“Doesn’t matter,” you answer, giggling from how similar this is to when you first met him.

“Where are you right now?”

“Outside a nightclub,” you sing, holding your phone out behind you so he can hear the EDM music from inside a little better.

“Send me your location.”

“Nope! I don’t owe you anything, you piece of shit!”

“Y/N, wait—”

You cut the call, laughing as Chanhee’s name disappears on your screen. He calls again, neverendingly, but you never once pick up, feeling glee from how he’s the one chasing after you now.

You play Candy Crush on your phone until a car screeches beside you, and you scoff as you recognize the familiar red Toyota Solara pulls up beside you. You’ve sobered up by now, but you still hate him just as much.

“Hell no,” you whisper, getting up as Chanhee steps out. You try to run, but the highness of your shoes make it hard for you to run properly, and you stumble as attempt to escape.

“Y/N, look, I’m just going to drop you off at home, okay?”

You stop in your tracks, turning around to see Chanhee behind you with his hands stuffed in his hoodie. You note the eyebags on his face and his chapped lips before speaking to him with a softer tone, grateful that even if he despised you, he didn’t make an attempt to grab onto your wrist and coerce you into something you didn’t want.

“How do I know you won’t kidnap me?” you ask, folding your arms over one another.

“I asked Vernon for your location. If you go missing, he’ll know it was my fault.”

You grumble, staring at him angrily before walking towards his car. He opens the door for you, but you stick your tongue out at him and find a spot in the backseat instead.

The ride is silent, but you feel him watching you through the rearview mirror as he drives. Usually, you don’t mind his silence, but now the stillness is bleak and uncomfortable, just like his presence near you.

“Why did you call me?” he asks, and it takes you a moment to register it because of how intensely you’d been ignoring him.

“I wanted to cuss you out.”

“Okay, so cuss me out then.”

You sigh, rubbing your temple.

“You know what your problem is, Chanhee? You’re self-centered. You think everything is about yourself, even down to our breakup. Who are you to even say things about my privilege when you know damn well how hard I worked to get here? Do you think I’m unaware how my feelings will affect your career? Hell, Chanhee, I literally told you I could help you find another job! I did so much for you to protect you, to support you, all for you to throw it away because you’re scared of the stupid future.”

“Y/N, I—”

“Let me finish. I love you for who you are. Even if we were destined to be opposites, I still found a way to fall in love with you. I was able to love you despite all that you have written about me in the past, so why can’t you love me for the person I am today?”

He pulls up to the front of your apartment, and you clamber out, not wanting to see his face anymore. The rain falls heavily as you step into the lobby, and Chanhee follows suit, shrugging the droplets off his jacket.

“Let me follow you up,” he asks.

You shake your head, but he trails you into the elevator anyway, watching as you press the button for your floor. He opens his mouth to speak, but you’re not in the mood, putting up a palm in front of him.

“Save it. I said what I needed to say. I might be drunk but my words are true. I don’t want to hear anything you have to say in return.”

Despite your words, you let him into your apartment anyway, throwing a towel at him so he can dry off. He pats his hair dry, wiping his glasses against the fabric, and suddenly you’re reminded of how devilishly handsome he is. You shake your thoughts off, chalking it down to good taste in men before wiping down your neck.

The thunder booms outside, startling you as your towel falls to the ground. When you pick it up, Chanhee stares at you, an indiscernible expression on his face.

“Thanks for the towel. I better get going.”

He spins on his heel to leave as the storm crackles, and against your better judgement, you call out for him to stop.

“It’s storming outside. You can’t drive in this weather.”

“What are you suggesting?” he asks, turning back around to meet your gaze.

“You can take my bed. I’ll sleep on the couch.”

Chanhee laughs, as if your idea is so atrocious he can’t even fathom it.

“You’re funny. I’ll just drive home, don’t worry.”

“Chanhee, I’m being serious. I don’t want you to die, for god’s sake.”

Maybe he registered the concern in your voice because he exhales, contemplating in his head if this is a good idea or not. The loud thunderclap outside has him reconsidering, and soon enough, he shakes his head in agreement.

“Alright, but you have to sleep on the bed. I’ll take the couch.”

“Chanhee, I’m not fucking arguing with you. You know what? We can both take the bed if it makes you happy. A pillow between us should work.”

Before Chanhee can even respond, you’re walking into the bedroom, flicking on the light. You grab your pajamas from the closet and change in your bathroom, slipping into the sheets quickly once you’re done. Chanhee follows suit, taking the right side of the bed and placing a pillow between you two for added measure.

“Thank you,” he whispers after a few moments of silence. “I’ll be gone in the morning before you know it.”

“No need,” you grumble, shoving your face into the pillows, “just don’t roll over to my side, okay?”

He hums in agreement, and he watches as your eyes flutter shut.

“Good night, Y/N.”

You’re far too asleep to even respond.

You wake up to the sound of your head pounding in your ears. You grumble, shifting around before you open your eyes, expecting to see empty sheets, but instead you see a man with a very familiar face.

You as the events of last night rush back to you, and you hold yourself back from groaning as you recollect your thoughts. You should’ve just let him leave when he wanted to, but you didn’t, and now you have to deal with his beautiful bare face and his deep morning voice as if you haven’t fallen enough for him already.

You don’t register his eyes fluttering awake until he pokes your side. You shake, startled by his actions, and he tries to hold back a smile.

“Good morning. Sorry I overslept.”

“It’s okay. I won’t be nice enough to let you stay for breakfast though.”

“Wait,” he whispers, clutching onto your arm as you attempt to get out of the bed, “can I say something?”

You nod, and his arms falls back on the bed as he sits up, clearing his throat.

“You were right. I was selfish, and the words I said that day were extremely uncalled for. They were useless too, because if I had just expressed my feelings to you, we wouldn’t have needed to have this conversation now.”

You cock your head, confused at what he’s trying to imply. He takes in a deep breath, as if he’s preparing himself to say something.

“I love you. I love you so fucking much that it hurts to breathe when I think of you. I love you so much that I’m willing to quit my career just to be by your side. I was scared then of ending up on the streets like I did in the past, but I was stupid enough to not trust your words when you said you would help me. I didn’t even like that job anyway, so I was an idiot for trying to fight for something I would eventually end up leaving myself.”

“Chanhee, you’re not—”

“No, I am stupid. And selfish. And self-centered. But I am also just Choi Chanhee, the Choi Chanhee who is irrevocably and utterly in love with you, and even though I can imagine a future where I won’t be working for Sangyeon, I cannot imagine a future without you by my side. I know you deserve better, but I’m begging you to just give me one chance to rectify my mistakes. We can take it slow and not rush things like we did in our four weeks. We can go on silly restaurant dates and I’ll practice getting used to the lights at red carpets. I’ll visit you on set every day with flowers and I’ll rent out five billion vans for us to make out in. I’ll do all this and even more because you deserve it, and because I love you. Will you please let me have one chance to make this fake relationship into a real one?”

You’re kissing him before he can even respond, letting him press you against the bed. He kisses you like he’s been starved, inhaling you and memorizing every inch of your presence as if you’ll let go of him again. Like before, you’re not restricted by the millions of voices against you and Chanhee, and as he lets himself go, you follow suit, dragging him down under until you’re writhing against him, begging for more.

“I love you,” he whispers when he kisses down your collarbone, “I love you,” he whispers when your clothes join the ground, “I love you,” he whispers when you shake against his fingers and mouth.

“I love you,” he whispers one last time, cradling you gently as he becomes one with you. “I’ll never let you go. Never again.”

As you lay against him, bare skin to bare skin, you trace the tips of his hair as you smile. You don’t know what the future holds for you two, but there’s one thing you’re certain of as you press another kiss to his mouth.

"I love you. Even if the world caves in, it’ll be you that I lie with. Endlessly, until my last dying breath.”

This time around, you take things slow, not restricted anymore any more by four weeks, four months, not even four years. You have the entirety of your lifetime to spend with him, and you intend on using every single bit of it.

First, however, you let him make it up to you. Just because you bared your soul to him, figuratively and literally, after his apology doesn't mean you've completely forgiven him.

Chanhee doesn't disappoint though, reminding you every single day why he deserved the second chance you gave him. Once upon a time, he called you privileged, and that's exactly what you are now for having such a sweet boyfriend. One that doesn't leave the vase on your countertop empty by gifting you fresh flowers, one that always opens the door for you when he takes you on apology dates, one that sits with you in silence when you want to and one that chatters just as much as you do when you can't shut your mouth.

He visits you on set when he can despite his busy schedule as an assistant director. Surprisingly, you played no part in this, just the source of his determination when he finally decided to give the movie industry a chance again and bagged a job with none other than your close friend Juyeon. He surprises you for late-night drives and lets you have the aux even without you asking for it. He accompanies you to movie premieres despite hating the cameras and if you ever get asked questions that you don't particularly like, he'll glare at the reporters until they shoo away.

And god, the kisses. If the world counted kisses as an apology, Chanhee would be the CEO. Every slot of his lips against yours is like an unwritten confession from him to you, and every purse of his lips is a ballad from the depths of his heart. He kisses you for trivial things, like when you finally get that one specific line right as you're practicing for a script or when he's pecking you against the makeup trailer walls as he wishes you a successful day at work. He kisses you in the earliest of mornings, murmuring sweetness with his tongue against your hot skin, and he kisses you in the depths of the night, trailing his fingers down as you gasp against his mouth and exchange breaths through each swipe of his tongue.

Even after you do end up accepting his apology, he doesn't stop showering you with the affection you deserve. On nights you're feeling particularly insecure, Chanhee beats himself up and vows to never make you feel those emotions again, waking up the next morning to prove exactly why you're worth it. He takes care of you gently, the gentlest lover you've ever seen. He's the personification of a comfortable morning, the desire to stay in bed despite all the things you have going on. You never want to leave, forgetting all reason and staying in his embrace forever.

You're by his side when his first cinema blows up, when his first screenplay wins an award, when he gets his first nomination for directing, and today when he's on stage with an Academy Award in his hand and a smile you'll remember for ages.

You watch the twinkling in his eyes when he thanks his cast and crew, holding onto his assistant director tightly as he expresses his gratitude. What takes your breath away, however, is when he turns to you in the audience and whispers a confession that you'll never forget in your lifetime.

"And lastly, thank you, you know who you are, for being the best I could ever imagine. I will never regret the moment by the pond where you hugged me, the one that changed the trajectory of our lives forever. If anything, you deserve this award more than me. I love you, my Y/N."

You smile as the audience erupts in cheers, but as his assistant director hugs him on stage, his eyes only bore into yours.

"I love you too," you mouth back, watching as he grins when he recognizes your words.

"Forever and always."

[sillyromance]

Hello everyone!

Some angsty open-ended thoughts for today.

A classical pred/prey society where preds need to consume preys, not very often, but it's necessary for their normal metabolism. Although, hunting has its rules which are quite strict and has lots of nuances protecting both sides from violence and abuse: for example, wolfing a random person down at the street is against the law.

A prey girl who is suffering of a disease the chances to cure which are extremely low decides to make a deal with a pred. They will be able to consume her, but only on a particular day which is, actually, around two months ahead (she needs to bring her businesses in order, that's why). Also, to avoid any unwilling consequences, people included shouldn't use their real names. After a long and careful research through different pred/prey "dating" apps the prey is lucky enough to find a good pred man who accepts her terms and even offers her to get to know each other better, so they won't be absolute strangers when the moment of truth comes and they both will feel better about it. She happily agrees - the prey couldn't be honest with anybody in her life for a long time since she didn't want to upset her family and friends with tragic news. And the man... It won't hurt to lead a sincere conversation with a someone who will have you as a meal sooner or later anyway, will it?

He is mature and wise. She is young and a naive as a kid. But they get along just fine. A strange pair, hanging out in a nice cafe (which happens to be a favourite one for both) after work, going to cinemas and art galleries on weekends, chatting on the phone till the middle of the night - and doing a lot of other things two people who like one another do. Time flies like a rocket. And with each passing day, they are getting closer to each other - and closer to the end. Secretly, they both start questioning their deal, but stay silent, afraid to ruin what they already have with disappointment and offense.

He cares - at least, she thinks he does. She now cares, too. Though she doesn't quite believe it, she feels joy for the first time during these years...

..............................

One day, the prey finishes her things earlier than usual and goes home alone. She isn't afraid of someone snatching her on the nearest corner - it is still bright outside and she lives quite close to her working place. But as she is walking down a familiar street, thinking of which dish to cook for dinner, suddenly, she feels two huge hands digging their nails into her shoulders and dragging her in a dark sidewalk. Thrown at the floor, she gasps in horror.

A pred. A very huge and scary one belonging to the ugliest kind of their race. The prey tries to scream for help but her pleas are muffed by those dirty, strong hands before she can make a sound. Despite all her attempts to fight her way out of their grip, the girl slides down the bastard's throat and lands in a nasty, stinking stomach. Her gentle skin is instantly burnt with the acids preparing to break her into mush - and she cries in pain, fruitlessly struggling against tightening walls.

At that moment she notices her phone buzzing. Thank goodness! Embracing hope again, the girl answers. It's her pred friend! Of course, how could she be that stupid! Sniffing and sobbing, the prey manages to tell the pred what happened and where she, more likely, is. She doesn't really know why she trusts him to come after her - it must be a sixth sense telling her he will, or just her childish foolishness.

Anyway, he is everything she has right now.

Of course, her captor hears their conversation and tries to silence her, or, at least, run away - but they fail. It doesn't take long before the poor girl is shaken inside the beast as it is pinned against the wall and she catches a familiar voice growling angrily at the pred who made a VERY big mistake forgetting to check their victim's pockets...

And, after a few more disgusting seconds, she is released. Pathetic, smeared in gastric juices, but alive. And her dear pred friend is hugging her, smiling softly, while the attacker is getting arrested by the cops who came along with her savior...

...........................

On the next day, they wake up in the same flat. His flat. He took her to his apartments since they were closer - and he is, actually, a doctor. Fortunately, she didn't get much harm. The pred called his girl's boss to say she wouldn't come around because of the incident, so she has a day-off. He has taken one, too. After a tasty breakfast cooked by him, they decide to spend this day at the open air since it's better for the girl's health. Without wasting any more time, they depart and head to a huge park in the centre of the city.

It's a beautiful sunny day. Birds sing among tree brunches, hiding in thick bushes from rare walkers. In spite of it being midday, it's cool down here, under the green shadows falling at the grey brick road running in depth of the forest. Water rumbles beneath fallen leaves, and a wild mouse comes to the spring to sip some - and runs away as it senses the ground shaking under heavy human steps. It smells like rain: sweet and fresh.

They leisurely go down the road; she is holding his elbow and slowly licking her ice-cream while he is talking about funny accidents he and his pals had at the clinic. She feels relaxed; a nightmare she went through some hours ago seems far, far away... But then, she remembers: there are only five days left.

Five days of happiness... And...

At first, she shivers. But after awhile, a gentle smirk appears on her lips.

She interrupts the man.

- You know... Speaking of yesterday... I didn't thank you properly back then...

- Don't worry about it. You were in shock, I understand...

- Please, wait a sec... - She gets a deep breath to prepare herself. - After what happened, I have truly seen that the only person who I would allow to eat me without a second thought... is you.

He stops and gives her a long look. He has almost forgotten.

- ...Why?

She giggles at his serious face, but he hears sadness in her following words.

- Because I love you.

.......................

He arrives at the clinic. They slept together that night again; he is too worried about her going anywhere without him. She has to visit a doctor, though. But the knowledge it is going to be the same place he works in comforts the pred a little. White corridors, white coats, white doors and blinding white light overwhelmingly embrace him as he enters the building. Just as it should be. Friendly faces of his colleagues jump out of the chaotic mess here and there; he greets them without thinking, consumed by his swirling thoughts.

- Professor N! - A secretary calls suddenly.

What could happen in the very morning!?

- What is it, Susan? - He asks sharply. She doesn't seem to be bothered by this.

- Hannah called me five minutes ago - her mom is sick, she can't come to the clinic today.

Dammit!

- How many patients should visit her?

- Only four or five. I was said to tell you that they would be in your competence.

He rolles his eyes, irritated.

- Thanks, Susan. I'll keep that in mind.

Finally, the man reaches his room and falls in his armchair, his eyebrows frowning. The mood is spoiled. To distract himself from dark thoughts, the pred stretches his arm and takes the first clinic card in a small tower of them standing at his desk. It seems like this one is from his today "extras". A young prey girl with a deadly disease; though, the progress is visible since two months ago the analyses were much worse. She definitely has a chance to recover... Some say it's impossible to stop this disease, but he has already seen several people who have had the same one and successfully won their lives back. Not without his help. Perhaps, he will take her as a permanent client... He is more experienced at this topic anyway. Why didn't Hannah tell him before?

He looks through the database and finds out the girl is his earliest guest. Nice. Good news for a good girl in the morning.

This delightful thought enters his mind - and exits it immediately. His own lover is desperately ill and he hasn't done anything about it. It wasn't directly his fault; on their first date she said she didn't believe in herself anymore, that she was giving up. He doesn't know much about her condition since she refuses talking about it, though he predicts it is bad.

If only he knew how to help...

Well, when he knew her story, he quickly realised which solution was the most likable if she didn't want to try anymore. That is the reason he agreed to this after all.

The only thing he can do for her now - is to make her end peaceful and pleasant, just as she wants it. It's his duty - and he doesn't speak about himself only as a doctor, but a human being. Unlike that dork - his fist clenches as he feels fury swelling in his chest - he won't let her feel even the slightest pain. He will do only as she commands; he will digest her gently, slowly, reassuring and fondling her every minute, speaking to her till she passes out. And he won't fall asleep until he feels her soften completely within him... Because he simply can't do it otherwise. He loves her too much to show disrespect. To show indifference to her fate.

But...

Oh, if only she could be this girl whose name is on the card... If only he didn't have to...

His internal monologue is interrupted by a hesitant knock.

- Is it professor N's cabinet? My doctor is off today, so...

He freezes.

Standing at the doorstep, she freezes, too.

[startseeingstars]

Killer Instinct - Charlie Walker (Scream 4)

CH10 🎶 Naive - The Kooks 🎶

Cinema Club held an impromptu meeting in an empty lecture room. Charlie had texted you about it, absolutely ecstatic that Sidney and Gale were making an appearance.

As you walked in, Charlie strided over and you smiled, placing a hand softly on his arm. He looked wired - nervous and you chuckled at how adorable he was. “Look who’s starstruck now,” you teased and he blushed slightly, shooting you a knowing look.

Everyone took a seat, so you followed as Gale and Sidney walked in. Robbie stood ready at the front, his camera light on as he streamed the whole thing.

Charlie cleared his throat and started to make his way to the front, addressing the group with a grin. “Alright, gang. Cinema Club is now in session. Welcome.” He took a sip from his can, letting out a dramatic sigh as the last few people settled into their seats. “To give you a little background—we’re a sanctioned after-school activity, one rung below the glee club and two above Nintendo Wii Fit.” With that, he leaned on the desk next to Robbie, taking his place at the front.

Turning to Sidney, he gestured toward her with a flourish. “Let me just say, to our special guest, Sidney Prescott… we are truly honored.”

Everyone turned to look at Sidney, and Robbie couldn’t contain his excitement. “Forget Jamie Lee Curtis and Linda Blair—this is the ultimate!” he exclaimed. The room erupted in applause, and you couldn’t help but smile, impressed by the moment. It was surreal having Sidney and Gale there, and you remembered how Charlie had practically burst with excitement when he’d texted you about Gale approaching them.

Sidney, looking slightly flustered but smiling, stood up. “Thanks, I guess,” she said, her voice warm but with a hint of discomfort. She then turned her attention to Robbie. “So, uh… you film your entire college experience and post it online?” Her eyebrows lifted in slight confusion as Robbie’s face lit up with a smug grin.

“Everyone will be doing it one day, Sid,” he said confidently.

“It’s kind of the one thing the killer is missing,” Charlie remarked, a thoughtful expression on his face.

“Wait—what do you mean?” Gale interjected, stepping closer to where Sidney sat.

Charlie turned to her, his tone matter-of-fact. “Well, if you want be the new, new version, the killer should be filming the murder.”

Robbie nodded eagerly, backing him up. “Yeah, it’s the natural next step in psycho slasher innovation,” he added, clearly a bit nervous under Gale’s intense stare. You stifled a laugh, recalling how Charlie had confessed that Robbie was fan-girling over Gale. “I mean, you film it all in real-time, then before you get caught, upload it straight to cyberspace.”

Charlie’s eyes lit up as he jumped in, “Making your art as immortal as you.” They really did make a good team. “Not to implicate him,” Charlie quickly added, giving a half-glance at Robbie, who shifted uncomfortably.

Sidney, ever the skeptic, narrowed her eyes and asked, “So, who do you think is behind the murders?” Her question seemed to hang in the air, causing a brief silence. Charlie hesitated for a moment, as though her question had momentarily taken the wind out of him.

“Well, it’s a Stab fanatic, clearly,” Charlie said with a casual wave of his hand. “Working on less of a shriek-quel and more of a scream-make.”

Robbie, ever the detail-oriented one, muttered, “Copyright on those terms, by the way,” as he began pacing the room as you rolled your eyes.

Charlie nodded, acknowledging the point. “’Cause right now, all there are, are remakes. That’s the only horror the studios are greenlighting.” His raspy voice carried a sense of authority that you couldn’t help but admire, and you smiled to yourself as he continued. “I mean, sure, there are still rules—but the rules have changed.” He shot a quick glance at you, and the small smile on your face seemed to fuel his confidence. “The unexpected is the new cliché.”

A few people around the room murmured in agreement, and Robbie picked up where Charlie left off. “Yeah, you gotta have an opening sequence that blows the doors off. Maybe toss in a flashy music video vibe, and the kills? Gotta be way more extreme.”

Charlie nodded, his tone thoughtful. “Modern audiences are too savvy to fall for the old rules.” He turned to Sidney as if explaining the nuances of the genre. “So, the reversals? They become the new standard. In fact, the only sure-fire way to survive a modern horror movie—” He paused, his eyes landing on Kirby. “Is to be gay.”

The two shared a quick smirk, and you couldn’t help but giggle at the perfect timing.

“Why are you so sure the killer’s following the rules of a horror remake?” Gale’s sharp question and imposing presence made Charlie shift uncomfortably, revealing a brief glimpse of his more timid side.

“Well, the original Stab structure is pretty clear,” Robbie said, pacing once again, his voice steady.

“Two kids killed in their house while their parents are away,” Charlie added quickly, picking up on Robbie’s point.

“And then the school’s ‘hot chick’ gets savaged beyond recognition,” Robbie continued, his tone a bit more theatrical.

“We all know where it goes from there,” Charlie said, gesturing outward with a flourish.

“A party,” Sidney chimed in, and Charlie’s eyes lit up as he pointed at her, nodding eagerly.

“Exactly, a party. Guaranteed third-act, main cast bloodbath.” He smiled, clearly excited by the thought.

“Fingers crossed for some nudity this time,” Robbie added with a cheeky grin, earning a few chuckles from the group.

“Okay, so do you know of a party happening?” Gale asked, stepping closer to the boys. She stood right next to Charlie, who visibly shifted, clearly uncomfortable with her proximity.

“Well, there’s Stabathon tonight,” Charlie explained, crossing his arms. “It’s a movie marathon—the seven Stab films, back to back. We do it every year.”

“Tonight?” Sidney asked, her voice tinged with both disgust and concern. “There’s a killer out there, copying the murders from the original movies.”

“I know, it’s pretty wild,” Charlie replied, his eyes still gleaming with excitement, despite the gravity of the situation.

You couldn’t help but smile softly as you watched him. It was easy to forget that Charlie had a quiet confidence when it came to his passions. He might be soft-spoken in general, but here, in his element, you saw the spark of enthusiasm that made him so passionate about this project.

“Well, you have to call it off,” Sidney insisted, her voice firm, but Robbie just pursed his lips, unmoved.

“It’s a Friday night. I’m sure we’re not the only party in Woodsboro,” he replied casually.

Gale, clearly growing impatient, leaned in. “Okay, where is this circle jerk taking place?” Her tone was sharp, and you could feel the tension radiating off her. You glanced at Charlie, who seemed to shrink under the pressure.

“So, who’s ready for the Q and A?” Charlie’s attempt to change the subject fell flat, only making Gale more irritated.

“No, no. I want a location,” she pressed, her gaze intense as she demanded an answer.

Charlie shifted uncomfortably, glancing around the room. “Well, it’s kind of an underground thing… email invites, pretty secret,” he said, trying to politely sidestep the question. But Gale’s expression hardened, unamused.

“What, you’re not going to tell me? We’re working together, remember?” She raised an eyebrow, clearly incredulous. Charlie and Robbie’s silence spoke volumes.

“Ready for that Q and A?” Charlie repeated, his voice a little too eager. Gale just scoffed and lightly took Sidney’s arm as they turned to leave.

“Fuck you.” Her last words in the air before they left. The room was still but Charlie’s mischievous crooked smile burned into the crevice of your mind as he glanced at you - eyes shining.

“That was awesome,” He grinned with a small chuckle. Even he had to admit that being sworn at by Gale Weathers was an honour in a league of itself.

[bestreviewguy]

When watching a Darren Aronofsky film, a good time isn’t exactly what you look for. More of the opposite in a morbid way, from films such as “Requiem for a Dream” to my personal favorite, “Mother” one way or another, you somewhat plan to be scarred, while most film veterans can shake this off as nothing more than extended shock value, the somewhat new project released (2021) is a different type of shock value. No unexpected message on the dangers of heroin addictions and thankfully no scenes like the ending of Jennifer Lawrence’s, “Mother” are included in this cinematic tale. Instead, we are given a view on what a heartbreak can truly do to a man. In this film, we view the final weeks of Brendan Frazier’s life. The best thing about this movie is the performances, Sadie Sink and Frazier steal the show and are well owed an Oscar. It is a film you will watch once, and never want to see again, for better or for worse. Generally speaking, most people don’t watch Aronofsky films for a casual good time popcorn flick. Instead, when faced with the ending, much similar to my time in the theatre with this one, your only response is utter silence. A rhetorical stance on if it was based on a true story or not, yet we know that somewhere in the world, a heartbreaking tale such as what you’ve just experienced is no doubt occurring. The new film in his collection is no different, with an ending just as depressing as you would come to expect if your knowledgeable on his prior work. As a matter of fact, if their is one word to describe this film, it is “Depressing” throughout the film, all your wanting to feel is sympathy. Do not expect a happy ending. Do not expect to have a hero’s journey because it isn’t one of those tales. For better or for worse, you will learn a fact of life, and what you take away from that lesson is entirely up to the audience. While I’m glad to see Brendan Frazier back in action in his career in Hollywood, this is VASTLY DIFFERENT from anything he’s done prior. I’m all for it. You cry in the last 10 minutes, and you dread viewing his dynamic relationships with the cast. Their isn’t a single performance that does not feel like they don’t belong here. The best way to describe this piece of cinema is like a play. It mirrors a rollercoaster you want so badly to get off of, yet are already strapped in for the ride; and all you can do is wait for it to be over. Unfortunately, the cinematography isn’t going to be for everyone, regardless of the tone of the film, yet the PHENOMENAL PERFORMANCES by everyone on screen drastically makes up for it. It’s (as Sadie Sinks character says) “disgusting” when it needs to be, hard to look away, and absolutely not a boring watch. Yet I would not mind watching it ever again. You can view this movie one to two times before losing interest, and what happens in those times are entirely up to you, the viewer. I’m going to give ‘The Whale’ a 7 out of 10.

7/10

+ Not a single bad performance

+Emotionally gripping throughout every scene.

+Suspenseful in a morbid way

+One of the most grounded in reality films since “Pi”

-Some cinematography issues

-Not a lot of rewatch value

[sweetbillwriting]

This Is Bad, Billy -

Part 1 - Like In The Movies

Description: 1961. Joanie is a dreamer. She dreams of Hollywood, fashion and handsome men. Her favorite is the actor Billy Skarsgård. When she works as a volunteer at the hospital she meets him in an unexpected way and comes closer to him than she thought was possible.

Characters: AU Bill Skarsgård, here called Billy. He's inspired by real life Bill but also the character Clark Olofsson in the Netflix series Clark.

Setting: This story is set in the 60s L.A and a smaller town close to L.A.

Warnings: 18+, historical preferences, mental health problems, mental illness, abuse, drugs, religious themes, sexual themes.

The darkness of the movie theater was like a second home to me and I only left when I was forced to. It started with me and my father going to the cinema when my mom traveled away to help my older sister through her pregnancy. My dad and I didn't have so much to talk about so sitting in silence in a movie theater was perfect. We started out watching classics like The Wizard of Oz and Snow White but with time we started to watch the newest dramas and even some adventure movies. When My mom's travels to my sister became less and less my father's interest in the movies decreased but I was stuck. I couldn't just stop because I lived as much in the movies as I did in real life. When my father chose to do more important things than be with me I continued to go to the theater. My mother wasn't happy that I went by myself but after I graduated from high school I had time to go to the early showings and choose the darkness instead of the light of day. After I had celebrated my eighteenth birthday I could start watching all the movies I had just dreamt about and it was then I found him, Billy. Billy never played the good guy, he wasn't that dreamy perfect date Audrey Hepburn chose to kiss, Billy played the bad guy. In horror movies he played the murderer and in thrillers he was the rich guy you shouldn't trust. My fascination for him maybe sounded odd but right in that moment Billy was one of the more interesting actors and many girls dreamt about kissing his full lips. He was still so young, in his mid 20s, but already with a mysticism and poise as a man. But there was little information about him, probably because of his Swedish background and I wasn't even really sure how old he was and the tabloids seem to have the same problem. Billy was a mystery but became an even bigger mystery for me after I saw him on the psychiatric ward. Maybe it should have scared me seeing him there and having the cops all over him. He must have done something really bad for the police to treat him like that. Maybe he was a murderer just like the characters he played? 

When I got home in the early morning after my shift at the hospital I took out the shoebox under my bed and looked through all the articles about celebrities I've saved. Even if Billy was my absolute favorite there weren't many with him. He wasn't the biggest name in cinema but it also seemed like he didn't want to share much about himself and on several questions he would answer "no comment". I had always seen that as proof of his star qualities but had now realized Billy probably just had things he wanted to stay in the shadows. 

I wondered if I would see him again and when I slipped into bed with my curler in my bang and long sleeved nightgown I fantasized about meeting him again and how it all was a misunderstanding I could solve and as a thank you he would kiss me deeply like he kissed girls in the movies. I blushed to myself when I thought about his hand under my blouse but dragged a hand over my chest to feel how it might feel to let a boy that close. 

My mother could never learn to let me sleep in after a night shift and woke me up at nine a clock, after just three hours of sleep. 

"You can't sleep away the whole day. Do you want scramble eggs for breakfast?" She asked after she had dragged me out of bed and then she began to make my bed. I whined loudly and thought about my weird dream about Billy Skarsgård. That he was a patient in the psychiatric ward. I stood tiredly in the middle of the floor while my mother laid out a dress for me on the bed as if I were a kid. She had chosen the yellow one I hated because it was much longer than my other dresses and I didn't even show collarbones wearing it. It was a dress for a high school girl, not a grown woman like me. 

While putting on the dress and doing my hair in a high ponytail I thought back to the dream and realized it actually wasn't a dream. The odd experience had actually happened. Earlier it had felt like a pain to go back to the hospital with all the jealous girls and grumpy doctor's but now I looked forward to it and started to plan how I would be able to go back to the psychiatric ward. Maybe I was just as insane as the patients there but I just thought about Billy's smile towards me and his broad back clad in black leather. 

This could be an adventure of a lifetime. Just like in the movies. 

×××

The reception room at the psychiatric ward looked the same as the night before, just as empty and silent but this time there was a younger woman sitting at the desk. Also she read, but a novel this time. It looked like something cheap and romantic, a book my mother would never let me read. 

"Excuse me, is Mrs. Larsen here tonight?" 

The woman looked up at me with an embarrassed face and I couldn't stop wondering what she actually just had been reading. 

"Yes, if you sit down I can get her for you?" 

I smiled and waved a little with the striped apron I had on. 

"I work here so I can look by myself?" 

"Okay. I mean, yes. I think she is in her office, it's past the staff room." The woman said while she stood up from the desk and locked up the door to the ward's long corridor.  

I smiled a little and tried to look more confident than I was when I walked into the corridor. In my head I repeated the same two words over and over to feel more sure about myself: 

Doctor's daughter. Doctor's daughter. Doctor's daughter. 

Nothing bad would happen to me because I was the doctor's daughter. 

×××

Last time I was in the corridor for the mentally ill all the doors to the patients were closed but tonight one door was open. I was forced to go by it to go to the staff room but instead of getting nervous or scared I felt excited. It must be Billy's room. My thought wasn't logical but right then and there, there was only one patient at the psychiatric ward for me. I looked in through the door while walking by and saw two male caretakers talking loudly and irritated to someone. 

"No, time to sleep!" Said one of the caretakers and pushed down a person onto the steel framed bed. I thought back to the night before and became even more sure that it was Billy. It must be him that the caretaker got that irritated with. I stood and looked in through the door as if it were some sort of performance I was watching and just hoped to see Billy's face but when the caretaker moved away I saw it was an older woman. Tears streamed down her wrinkled skin while she muttered something to herself. She tried to push the caretakers away but they just continued to push her down in bed. 

"Who are you?" Said one of the caretakers when he found me staring at them in the doorway. 

"Excuse me, I work here. Just going to the staff room," I said with flushed cheeks and showed off my striped apron like it was my golden ticket. The caretaker just nodded and then took a hold of the old lady's wrist in a vise grip. She yelped in pain and I swallowed hard by seeing her pained expression. Why did they handle her so roughly? 

I had a bad feeling when I walked away from the lady's room but tried to think about why I was there. Billy. I walked into the staff room that was much more welcoming than the rest of the ward. There were floral curtains on the windows, crochet table cloths and colorful paintings. I put on my hat and fixed my apron before knocking Mrs. Larsen's office door. I begged silently to myself that this would go well. 

Mrs.Larsen opened with a wrapped sandwich in her hand and covered her full mouth with a hand. 

"Oh, Ms. Woods. Can I help you with something?" 

I gave her a puzzled look and looked around confused. All an act like I'd planned. 

"You said yesterday that I should come tonight too?" 

Mrs. Larsen swallowed dryly and brushed away some crumbs on her top lip. 

"Did I? I'm sorry, I don't remember that. I guess I must have been tired." 

I looked at her with big eyes and played with my fingers in front of me and my sweet way seemed to charm her. 

"Oh well, we can probably find you something to do tonight too," she said with a smile and moved away from the door so I could walk into her little cramped office. 

××× 

Annike let me put the breakfast together with two nurses with kitchen duties. In the other wards the patients could write down what they wanted and then it was served in their rooms, this was not the way here. The food was prepared lovelessly and was put up in big serving dishes. I didn't even see them put butter on the bread. As soon as the clock turned five it was time for us to serve the food. I felt ashamed looking at the tired food presented as a buffet in the dining room and I guess the oldest of the nurses, Connie, saw what I was thinking and gave me a look. 

"Many of them don't even know what they are eating. I don't think they can even taste things," she said while I looked down at the floor. It sounded just like an excuse, of course they could sense taste. 

"Time to wake them up! Go and help the caretakers!" Said Connie with a strict voice and almost pushed me away. I hadn't believed I would come so close to the patients and got a bit nervous. In the corridor I could see one caretaker walk around and lock up the doors while the others went inside to help the patient up from the bed, or I guessed that was what they did. Just to do my part I opened a door and could see a girl my own age sitting in the bed. She was heavily pregnant and rubbed her eyes from sleep. 

"Breakfast?" I said and she gave me a confused look but then she nodded with a smile. 

"Thank you for…" She didn't say anything more because a caretaker looked into the room and she started to put on a green ragged cardigan. l smiled a little and then took the next door and opened. In the middle of the floor stood a man who looked around confused. 

"Hey?" I said carefully. The man didn't seem to hear me so I took a step into the room. 

"Hello?" The man looked at me with tired eyes but then started to laugh. Just when it started to feel scary a male caretaker dragged me out of the room. 

"You shouldn't be here! If you want to help you can wake up the patients in the beginning of the hallway!” He screamed at me while he closed the door in front of the male patient's face. I stood quietly in shock but then felt a mix of panic and relief when I heard the male patient hit and scream against the other side of the door.

"Go! "Now!" Said the caretaker angrily and with my heart in my throat I ran to the first door in the corridor and opened it quickly with adrenaline in my body. 

"Girl, girly!" Said a man in the room. "I'm naked!" He said at the same time I had realized the fact he had just given me. A long manly body laid stretched from head to toe in the bed and I panicked and turned around so fast I hit the wall. Behind me the man chuckled a little. 

"Sorry… Are you okay, honey?" He asked when I covered my jaw after I had hit in the wall. I didn't say anything because I was a bit annoyed in the middle of my embarrassment. He was laying naked in a psychiatric ward but laughed at me because I had walked into a wall. He was insane for real. 

"Yes, I'm fine." I said with a trembling voice and rubbed my jaw as I thought I could wipe away the pain. 

"Is it breakfast?" He said in an almost happy tone and I wondered if I needed to be afraid of him too. 

"Yes," I said embarrassed without turning around. I hadn't forgotten that there was a naked man behind me. I didn't want my first experience seeing a penis being together with a patient in the looney bin. 

"Oh I'm so hungry… Ehh… Will you release me?"

I furrowed my brows and looked down at my white pumps. 

"What do you mean?" 

"Well, they said to you to wake me up for breakfast?" 

"Yes?" 

"Then you must release the handcuffs." 

I looked up from my shoes, up at the wall. There was something in me that wanted to turn around and look at what he meant but all I could see in my head was my own imagination of what manhood looked like. My sister had said that they are really different at daytime and nighttime and I couldn't understand at all what she meant with that. 

"Hand… Handcuffs?'' I said carefully. At that moment it suddenly hit me that I recognized the voice of the man. Was it actually Billy Skarsgård who was lying naked behind me, cuffed to the steel frame of the bed? 

"Handcuffs," he just said and moved his hands so I could hear the metal of the handcuff slam against the bed frame. 

"Bill… Bill, Billy?" I stuttered. I couldn't stop my impulses and now the craving was bigger of knowing if it was Billy behind me than the need to be a good girl. 

He laughed silently. 

"Yes. I'm Billy… What's your name, honey?" 

My heart beated in my chest loudly and I forgot every important thing when I understood who I was talking to so with a hammering heart and eagerness I turned around even if he was naked. 

"Oh my god!" I first said excitedly then I saw his naked body. The broad chest, the long, hairy legs but also his sex lying soft against his thigh surrounded with dark pubic hair. 

"Oh my god!" I said again and turned around again horrified. There was so much naked skin. The only human I had seen that naked was myself. I heard Billy laugh again. 

"Do you have the keys?" 

I ran out of the room. I didn't have any keys but I was also terrified of seeing a naked man like that. Billy Skarsgård naked. I felt some sort of anxiousness by seeing it but it got even worse when I realized I wanted to see it again. Especially his manhood. 

I stood in a blushing mess and stared into the wall opposite of the door to Billy's room and I could hear a male caretaker walk into him. 

"Have you traumatized the girl for life now?” He said with a natural tone. 

"With my naked body? I think my body is extremely normal," said Billy. The caretaker sighed deeply. 

"Right.. So the question is what you do with all those girls… How you're able to destroy them…" said the caretaker lowly but with a hint of annoyance. 

"I don't know. Can you take off the handcuffs now?" Billy said beggingly and his tone made me turn and look in through the doorway. I could just see his naked legs and feet. Everything passed the middle of his thigh, was covered by the caretaker's body while he stood in front of him. The caretaker laughed unamused and shook his head. 

"If I could I would let you rot in this bed. Someone should do an exorcism on you instead of just drugging you…" 

I swallowed hard and tightened my fist in front of me so hard my nails wounded me. Was Billy a rapist? Did he have a sexual deviation? Nymphomania? Or was he actually in contact with the devil? 

I had never believed in the devil but standing there, hearing a grown sane man talk about an exorcism I didn't know what to believe. 

"Can you just release me now? I'm really hungry." 

I looked at the caretaker's back while he unlocked the handcuffs and then I moved to the side of the door, afraid that I would be seen eavesdropping or seeing Billy naked again. 

"Dress and change sheets before breakfast, bedwetter," Said the caretaker before he left the room. 

Luckily for me he didn't seem to notice me next to the doors opening and when he had left l looked into Billy's room again. He had put on the ward issued gray sweats and stood with his hands over his face. His shoulders bobbed as if he cried. 

"Bill… Billy? Are you okay?" He exhaled deeply and wiped his eyes before looking at me. His eyes were red with tears and I felt a mix of sadness and nervousness seeing him like that. There must be something wrong, a mistake. Billy was a happy, talented, smart man. He wasn't a maniac. 

"Yeah.. Yeah…" he said and smiled through the tears. "What's your name?" 

I smiled a little, forgetting where we were and just saw handsome Billy in front of me. He was so tall but had an ugly wound over one of his brows and down his cheekbone.

"Joan, but everyone calls me Joanie." 

"That's really pretty…" he smiled and started carefully taking away the sheets from the bed. 

"Do you need help?" I asked as I walked into the room. 

"Ehh…" Now he looked embarrassed and even got pink in the cheeks. He was so cute. "I laid in handcuffs here the whole day so I… I needed to urinate.." 

I smiled calmingly towards him. 

"I've cleaned worse things doing this job," I said and started to help him remove the sheets. He smiled big towards me and dragged a hand through his greasy hair. 

"Thank you," he said and looked me deep in the eyes. I blushed and shrugged. 

"I mean, Joanie?"

 I looked up at him again, deep in those big green eyes. 

"Thank you for treating me as a human."

××× 

When Billy went to the canteen to eat breakfast I stood frozen in the hallway with his dirty sheets. He had smiled beautifully at me and dragged a hand through his hair in that sexy way he did in the movies. It affected me so hard that I was stuck standing in the hallway with a stupid smile on my lips while I imagined myself riding in a muscle car with him through floral fields. 

"Joanie? Are you still here? I thought your shift ended an hour ago," said Annike and looked at me worriedly. 

"Oh, yeah…" I said with a dreamy tone. 

"Has something happened?" She laid her hand on my shoulder and looked at the sheets in my hands. 

"I'm just tired," I smiled a little. 

She nodded and released my shoulder. 

"I hope you tell me otherwise… Dr. Woods…" She started the sentence but then looked at me with a careful smile. 

"Just tell me then but if you want to you can come back here. When is your next shift?" I smiled big and imagined Billy's beautiful eyes in front of me. 

"Next week on Tuesday. 10 am to 7 pm." 

Annike nodded with a smile. 

"I will talk with Dr. Fredricks. It's really nice to have you here," she said and once again laid a hand on my shoulder. 

"Thank you, Mrs. Larsen." I smiled sincerely because it was actually nice working at the psychiatric ward. No stupid Doctors, no jealous girls and instead of boring patients with a broken leg or fever there was actually a Hollywood star here. A Hollywood star who smiled at me brightly and I had even got to see him naked. 

××× 

My mother stood in the kitchen when I got home. It was silly really, how she could get up at 5 am just to prepare what we would eat for dinner twelve hours later. That was my mother's picture of the perfect wife, the dream for a woman to be, the dream for a man to have. If she knew I dreamt about Los Angeles, short skirts and now, also, an actor's penis she would have been horrified. She even thought the image of me as a working woman was horrible, me becoming an actress was almost as bad as prostitution. 

"I'm going to bed…" I said without saying hello and walked with tired steps towards the stairs. My mom looked up at me and shook her head.

"I'll wake you up in a couple of hours, you must help me bake bread today." 

I closed my eyes and walked up the stairs just by memory. 

"The Dawson's are coming to dinner tomorrow," she continued and I whined loudly. My mom wanted me to meet their son, Jacob. She had shown me pictures of him and tried to impress me with the university courses he had taken. I asked as a joke what kinda car he had but that made my mother irritated for real. I was hopeless in her eyes and she wondered how I could become that way when my sister was such a good housewife. I wonder the same thing sometimes. Maybe it was my lack of friends or it was the movies I've watched but something in me believed there was something more than becoming a housewife like my mother. I was far too special to just have such a boring life. 

I laid down in bed when I had put on my nightgown and thought about Billy again. I wanted to give him something. A gift. And maybe a pink letter with splashes of my perfume. I giggled and rubbed my cheek against the pillow in embarrassment when I thought about giving him my flower. A picture of his steel bed in the ward flew by in my mind and I shook my head to myself. We would do it somewhere else. Maybe on that floral field after we had cruised through it with his shiny car. 

××× 

Do young, cool men really wear bowties 1961? 

Jacob Dawson did. A green plaid one that clashed with his blue striped suit. He looked like a little old man but my mom looked at him like he was the most charming boy.

For once I had done my hair in another style than a ponytail and it laid down over my chest with perfect bent tips. I felt pretty in my newest dress, a lime green dress with a shirt collar. It actually ended over my knee and I felt daring and like I had some spice. Jacob looked at me with big eyes while our parents spoke. I was far out of his league and just felt uncomfortable when he smiled at me. 

"What… What do you like to do? When you don't work at the hospital?" He asked carefully and wiped the sauce in the corner of his mouth on his jacket sleeve. Charming. 

I wanted to tell him the truth; Movies, Hollywood, music and fashion. But my mother hated all of those things and she sat and looked at me intensely.

"Oh, I read… I bake? And I take long walks." 

My mother looked pleased and everything except the baking was true. And the walks were often just a way for me to escape and pretend I wore high end fashion and flirted with millionaires. 

Jacob smiled at me and nodded. I didn't ask him back because I wasn't that interested but as most men he didn't seem to need a reason to talk about himself. 

He talked about books he had read, lectures he'd been to and also the course he had taken to become a good husband. He was such a snoozefest that if my dress hadn't been sitting so tight I would have fallen asleep. 

As a doctor's family we didn't have the luxury to ignore the phone while eating. My dad's job was way too important so when the phone rang my mother, as the perfect little housewife she was, walked to the phone to answer. The odds that it was to her was small but she wouldn't let my father do any unnecessary movement when he was home and now he also was in a deep conversation with Mr. Dawson about useless secretaries and stupid elevator staff. When my mom came into the dining room again she waited for my dad to look at her before talking. 

"It's Dr. Fredricks on the phone but…" she turned to me and I looked at them confused. "He wants to talk to Joanie." 

My dad looked at me then at my mom. 

"Well let her then?" He just said and then turned to Mr. Dawson again. I looked at my mother to get her approval too. She gave me a worried look but showed with her hand it was okay for me to leave the table and take the call. I didn't know if it was what I wanted. Mr. Fredricks was bad news and it didn't feel like he could say anything positive. On nervous legs I walked to the kitchen where the phone stood on a side table. 

"Yes, Dr. Fredricks?" I said politely and felt the nerves in my hand. 

"Hello… Lovely Joanie," said a smooth manly voice. Not at all as Dr. Fredricks. 

"Hello?" I said confused and looked around in the kitchen for an answer. The man laughed sweetly on the phone and exhaled deeply. 

"It's me, Billy… Skarsgard." 

"Billy??" I was surprised before I realized I probably should pretend like I was speaking with Dr. Fredricks.

"Yeah. I have some friends here that have helped me with some things… Do you want to take a ride? Now? Tell your parents that you have work and meet me at the parking lot on the north side of the hospital."

×

[cozymochi]

🌻🌻🌻 give us your Words

THREE CRAZY FLOWERS!??? Lets goooo

🌻- A FEW DAYS AGO me and my roommate rewatched all of avatar the last airbender. I mean, we tried to years ago but we stopped because… Ok this might sound ridiculous but we stopped 5 episodes in cuz it was too good, and we needed hardcore stupid for a while. BUT WE WENT BACK IN and wrapped it up in a few days and it’s still ballin’ as ever. I don’t have much to say beyond that.

🌻- YESTERDAY, I got a Shadow the Hedgehog plushie at a comic store because. Anyway, threw on Sonic X (subbed for a change wooo) a few hours later smack in the middle of season 3 to get some Shadow vibes in cuz he is the original scrunkly. …OKAY im actually done talking about him, If I get started on my sonic bs I never stop BUT

It’s absolutely bonkers to me how Sonic X just like…has virtually no music score????? It’s been a minute since I’ve seen Season 1-2 subbed, but Season 3 has barely any compositions at all. And everything is so….slow? You know how anime used to just…stick to one shot or draw something out for a reaaally long time? That’s pretty much every episode. I chalk that up to the mid animation (it’s crazy that this will be the same studio that would eventually handle 2019 Fruits Basket). As much as I do dislike how loud and tonally deaf the 4Kids score is, I did miss the character leitmotifs a bit. I can only imagine what a combo would’ve been like with proper atmosphere. Every now and then I’d HOPE the music would pop off but there’d be whole ass action sequences and score is just a constant low, droning wubwubwubwubwub noise. Once in a blue moon an Adventure 1 event song might play BUT OTHER THAN THAT ITS DEAD SILENCE or wubwubwubwubwub. ITs Just so baffling to me considering how peak the music in the games are, you’d think that’d be utilized in it’s anime. Tho Live and Learn playing at the end of the Project Shadow arc??? Bruh. Cinema.

…Anyway all that said, the Metarex arc is still pretty peak. And I really think Sonic X would’ve benefitted hard from today’s animation standard, cuz it srsly NEEDS that sense of speed to convey the insane stuff more 😩. Though Sonic X as it was would never be made today in the “let’s be safe and squeaky bclean for the brand” landscape. Not enough hurr hurr chili dog 👹 SEE LOOK IM GOING OFF FOREVER THIS IS WHY I CANT GET ON MY BS—-

🌻- If the “talking about watching every disney film” thing ever comes out, I’m dodging copyright by re-drawing the shots we talk about or make new jokes. “But you could just use screenshots” ermmmmmmmm maybe. But what’s MORE extra than trying to go by memory AND try and show off on a thing 80% of people would only strictly listen to? ;) ….Besides, it’d be different I think. Sorta. I’d hope. It’s still in the early stages.

What if I’m not funny whaT if

[watching-pictures-move]

Movie Review | I Know What You Did Last Summer (Gillespie, 1997)

It’s been a year since that fateful event, when the characters covered up a hit and run and swore to take this horrible secret with them to the grave. They have drifted apart, as the currents of life have taken them down different streams. But a mysterious letter has brought them back together. Jennifer Love Hewitt. Sarah Michelle Gellar. Ryan Phillippe. And now, glimpsed on the dock like a small town Adonis, Freddie Prinze Jr., in a tight black tank top, baggy as hell cargo pants and a dangerous amount of product in his hair. We can talk about how fickle beauty standards can be regardless of gender, and I’d like to stress that this was considered the absolute peak of masculine beauty in 1997.

I bring this up not just to have a laugh at Prinze Jr.’s expense (although I won’t deny that was a motivating factor), but to position this is a temperature reading of the horror genre at that moment. The slasher film was the furthest from the grindhouse at this time, having shed the purely exploitative ethos of prior decades but before mean horror would make its return a few years later. Like in Scream, with whom this shares a screenwriter in Kevin Williamson, irony was in. These characters are at least nominally aware of other horror movies (The Silence of the Lambs is namechecked at one point). Dumb and horny teenagers are out. Snarky teenagers are in. This has appeared on the Criterion Channel as part of their High School Horror series, and I’d like to think it was chosen for its usefulness in this regard. Who knows, at the rate we’re going, maybe we’ll get a series with Urban Legends: Final Cut and American Psycho 2. Disreputable Shriekquels or something like that. Not judging, just observing. (I think their insistence on contextualizing movies has helped me get more out of what’s appeared on their service. So yes, I would 100% watch either of those were they to appear on the service.) Perhaps the appearance of Fleshtone on the service may have been a sign of things to come.

Not that any of this makes this a “good” movie. Despite the R-rating, the violence is strangely shied away from, frequently cut to neuter its impact, and the swooshing camera angles and slick studio style lacking the visceral impact of earlier, cruder slashers, not to mention the forcefulness Wes Craven brought to the Scream movies despite working in a similar aesthetic. I think this one’s failings are obvious in light of that other series, which creates the illusion of safety through the irony-laden dialogue and studio production values, only to snatch it away with the ruthless, full-bodied violence that it metes out. The sense of irony here feels more a symptom of ‘90s cinema, when characters were in the habit of talking fast and making references, than anything that’s really engaged with on the thematic level.

There’s also a sense of the dead-end realities of small town realities, with at least one character reintroduced with a much more humble fate than she’s envisioned, but this also feels a little undercooked. (The choice of a fishing village also feels like a transparent element to work in the hook hand urban legend element.) You can look at something like My Bloody Valentine and see how this element could have been better fleshed out. I will also say that despite my comments on Prinze Jr.’s getup, I found the performances relatively appealing. I didn’t see this movie until now and have no strong connection to anything else these actors have done, but as they were more or less “it” for a few years when I was growing up, I can’t help but feel a certain secondhand nostalgia. I also found it pretty funny when Phillippe incriminated himself by beating up the guy from The Big Bang Theory. Not the guy everybody loves or hates (depending on how you land on the show), the other guy. (On a side note, I once had a coworker compare me to Sheldon Cooper. I lied and pretended not to know who that was. Died a little on the inside that day.) For all my qualms, I found this pretty inoffensive.

I do think there’s something interesting with the way this movie frames the slasher’s motivation. The genre has often been accused of moralizing thanks to the juxtaposition of sex and violence, but here, the protagonists are targeted precisely because of their guilt, their direct complicity in the instigating incident. You compare this to the original Friday the 13th and Nightmare on Elm Street, where the villains avenge wrongdoings on characters they hold guilty by proxy, or any number of other slashers where the relationship between motivation and victim is even more tenuous. In one situation, the characters are targeted for their actions, who they are and what they did. In the other, the characters are denied even that agency. The violence is totally senseless. For all the flak that ‘80s slashers were given for their cardboard cutout characters, I know which dynamic I find scarier.

[soojoelle]

about me

Hey, I’m Sophie Joelle!

AFAB but I don’t really care about pronouns so you go crazy about it! Born in 1994 and mostly speaking English on any platform that I’ve linked. Sometimes my German ass still does a lot of mashup language. Which includes words from French, Korean, Swedish and Italian. I do use social media such as instagram, tiktok and twitter.

Tiktok recently made me realise that I am neurodivergent. Adding AroAce to that since I seem to not have interest in others romantically or sexually.

My main interests are Drarry fanfics, Young Royals, Heartstopper, The Maze Runner, The Hunger Games, Sex Education, LoL-Esports and Games.

Drarry FFs

I grew up with those movies, went to cinema at the third movie and all the following ones. Just this year (2022), I decided to read the books… and accidentally stumbled over some Drarry fanfic? That is apparently my personality now (I’ll be insufferable for you by toxik_Angel). So instead of reading the books, I now enjoy slow burn, angsty Drarry fics over books. AGAIN. ( I have some history with gay ffs in other fandoms).OH and one last thing, I am a Slytherin and my fav character is no other than Draco Malfoy. Sadly due to all the controversal stuff, I will distance myself to all the canon stuff connected to a certain person… but I will keep on reading nasty fanfictions about Draco and Harry. Recently been on a wilde readings spree. My tiktok got the hang of recommending fics to me and well, it's come to over 60 open tabs on my phone.

Young Royals

Discovered this end of 2021 or beginning 2022. Fell in love with Wilhelm, their lovestory and Swedish. Talk to me in Swedish and I’ll do anything for you.

Heartstopper - AND ALICE OSEMAN(VERSE)

Not a big fan of Graphic Novels so I only stick to the series on Netflix but damn… this is my new comfort series when I feel sad or down. Nick/Kit Connor is embracing my heart every time. Recently bought all the books and am now officially comsumed by Osemanverse. My favorite character turned out to be Aled Last from Radio Silence!

Sex Education

My fav idiot is Otis in that series and I totally got him up until nearly end of Season 2. After that we divorced and went seperate ways. Meaning, I felt his awkwardness with sexual stuff and then he suddenly had a sexlife, meanwhile me still advoiding it at all cost. Since, I’m ace…

LoL-Esports

Meaning I am a total sucker for LEC. There’s way too many decent Gamers that I want to pour my heart out to. My favorite player is Mikyx. As casters I rly rly love Daniel Drakos. Casting together with his duo Caedrel gives me the chills while I still don’t fully understand League in detail. Drakos and Vedius are producing absolutely madness music. Pls check those songs out:

• Edge of Infinity

• Reckless with my Heart

• Mediocre Rap Cypher of the LEC

Games

Main games are Genshin Impact, Honkai Star Rail, Dead by Daylight, 7Days To Die, League of Legends (Aram). Feel free to send me DM for adding on those games!!

Important. I am an absolute simp for Xayah (and Rakan).

BTS

You are looking at one rare Army that has been with them since debut. My bias is Jungkook, but each member individually gives me safe places that nobody irl was ever able to. I am so thankful that we walked together, without them I wouldn’t have become a nurse and settled in a good mental state. They literally cured the negativity in my life and inside of me. 감사합니다, BTS. These days I mainly listen to their music but don’t keep up with their content. Doesn’t mean I love them any less tho.  I've been quite distant from them since the solo songs of my bias, they made me upset and frustrated. Since they are in English and have a feature and they are about fucking. Which, while being used to some singers, I can take, but not by JK..

Small add-on, I do listen to other Kpop artists like Stray Kids, NCT, TXT and WOODZ.

[denimbex1986]

'Last weekend, I completed the ultimate cinematic pilgrimage that has been blocked off on my calendar for months. The unassuming double act of Barbie, a glitzy family-friendly movie centred around the iconic children's toy that isn't afraid to confront issues of gender dynamics and patriarchy, and Oppenheimer, a mature and engrossing look into the life of J. Robert Oppenheimer during the development of the first nuclear bomb, was thoroughly enjoyable for the full six hours I spent sitting in a cinema. Affectionately titled "Barbenheimer", the back-to-back cinema experience was a rollercoaster of emotions and I thoroughly recommend both movies, however, one movie had to come out on top.

As the title may suggest, that film was Oppenheimer, and to put it bluntly, it might be the best cinema experience I have ever had. The film itself is a masterpiece, with Oscar-worthy performances from the likes of Cillian Murphy, Emily Blunt, Matt Damon, Robert Downey Jr and Benny Safdie, and the score has been on repeat in my earphones no matter where I go.

That being said, it was the cinema experience itself that helped to convey this spectacular film in all its glory. Now, I couldn't make it to a 70mm IMAX showing, but I stood firm in not compromising with a lesser screening, so seeing it in standard digital IMAX which is the next best thing. After spending days convincing my friends who were (mostly) adamant that a standard showing would be fine, it was only after I threatened to see it in IMAX by myself (thus jeopardising the Barbenheimer experience as a whole) that I eventually got them to cave and go to an IMAX screening; and before you call me emotionally manipulative, it was for the sake of cinema and art.

This was ultimately the best thing that could have happened, as the film was nothing short of mesmerising in IMAX. I'll try not to spoil anything, but let's face it, you know they're going to set off a nuclear bomb in this film, it was bound to happen. The expanded aspect ratio of the screen gave the full impact of the explosion, as an awe-inspiring yet terrifying column of fire encompassed the screen. Visually the pure scale, mixed with Nolan's masterful direction, can only be truly appreciated on a screen of this size in my humble opinion.

However, it turned out to be the sound in our screening that played the most important role, as the speakers really did the film justice. As the bomb is set off in the Trinity Test section of the film, there is a frantic build-up that instilled more anxiety into me than in any film I've seen before, followed by a minute or so of silence as the scientists and military witness their creation, which is only broken by Murphy's chilling rendition of Oppenheimer's iconic quote "now I become Death, the destroyer of worlds".

Shortly after, the full effect of the bomb is not only heard but felt, as an almighty boom erupts from the speakers, which admittedly made me jump out of my skin. It was so bassy and effective that my seat began juddering violently, and at that moment I was utterly entranced.

Speaking to friends who live in Cornwall, far away from any IMAX cinemas, they found it hard to relate to the way I felt watching the film, which I found gutting as it was absolutely a spectacle. That's not to say they didn't enjoy it, but that it just didn't have the same impact, which sent me on somewhat of a spiral, as I realised that I too will never be able to see that film in the way I did again. Sure I could fork out for more IMAX tickets, but theatrical releases only last so long and I can't think of any affordable home cinema gear that could replicate the way I watched it.

If it isn't already apparent, I loved the film and would quite like to rewatch it, but it's three hours long which is quite the commitment to make for a film I've already seen. No problem, I'll just buy the 4K Blu-ray; the only issue there is that there's only one thing I'd want to watch it on, and that's the 15 thousand pound Sony VPL-XW7000ES 4K laser projector, which is a bit out of my budget.

And that brings us to the sound, as although we have tested some truly excellent home theatre speakers and AV receivers, I doubt any of them could provide the visceral sofa-shaking sound of the IMAX theatre. So what am I to do? Just never watch the film again? Or perhaps I'll wait for a theatrical re-release, as the BFI often hold these, which is likely my best bet. Ultimately I'd really like to watch it again at home, but I just can't imagine a TV and soundbar doing it any justice.

If there's anything to take from the experience, it would be this: I would strongly recommend that if you plan on seeing Oppenheimer in cinemas, splurge on the IMAX tickets. The whole film is shot using IMAX cameras, so watching it on a screen that supports the expanded aspect ratio and enhanced picture quality makes it a visual treat, and the sound design in the film is begging to be appreciated through a proper cinema sound system.'

[spectaculardistractions]

To Ricardo Urgoiti Hollywood, 6 August 1946 Dear Ricardo, I am hugely amazed and, I have to confess, somewhat peeved to find you read reservations and reticence between the lines of my last letter. Either you have read it completely the wrong way or I must, unintentionally, have expressed myself badly. I haven’t got a copy of that letter, but I know myself and I know my feelings towards you are absolutely cordial, so I can guarantee that, whether written by me or imagined by you, I meant absolutely no offense in that ill-fated letter. If I quoted your phrase from a few years ago it was only because I found it so convincing at that time, and it seemed a really good way to justify your silence. The proof that I liked it is in the fact I remembered it. I’m going to say it again: I am amazed you read any reservations in my letter. I see you have set off down the artistic path. That you have started to paint is already a worrying symptom: musician, painter, film-maker… I’m not surprised, and I hope that you will continue, but professionally. No hobbies. You could easily trump the local film-makers in Spain and directing would allow you to live well and pursue your other activities. Your ‘atomic’ tendencies please me less. Everything about working in this lousy technological era makes me sick. If I make my own personal contribution to the ‘disposable sub-art form’ that is the cinema, it is really in spite of myself and because I’ve never found, nor do I know how to express myself better in an alternative more longstanding and durable medium. Nuclear fission doesn’t shock me any more than steam power for example, and humanity could have got by very well without both. I don’t mean I refuse to believe in, or that I am opposed – because that would be madness – to the terrible, prosaic, technological reality of our times: I just want to note that I have no admiration or affinity for it, and that it does not interest me. As far as I’m concerned, the atom has not revealed anything new, it has just confirmed the moral depravity of our age. As an example, and symptom of this, I choose a quote from Churchill (a character as vile as Hitler, but without the aura of paranoia): ‘Divine Providence has placed in our hands, in the hands of the Anglo-Saxon nations, this terrible, destructive force. What would our enemies have done had fate placed it in theirs?’ This is from a speech he gave the day after the criminal attack on Hiroshima. Such cruel and blasphemous cynicism contains the seeds of the entire ‘social’ atomic programme we’ve subsequently seen put in practice. And so on and so forth. I’ve no more to say on this topic. Men of good faith are working on it out there. But they are the rarely heard minority with negligible influence on the people who wield the guns and the money. I’d be very grateful if you have time, to hear a few objective and honest lines about what the ardent defenders of the so-called Caudillo are saying about me in Spain. This may be a childish and masochistic interest of mine, but it is genuine. Of course, I’m not going to insist, because I imagine you won’t have time to write now, and you might well not want to. You can satisfy my unhealthy curiosity another time. Wishing you a very good trip, my friend, and until as soon as possible, with my warmest regards, Luis PS All the projects I mentioned in another letter, in spite of having signed contracts and options, are still just projects. In the meantime, I’m almost completely broke. I couldn’t even afford a trip to New York to see you and sort out a few little things at the same time. I feel I’m incompatible with Hollywood. With Mexico even more so.

Jo Evans & Breixo Viejo, Luis Buñuel: A Life in Letters

[crxwnedbarbie]

𝐁𝐀𝐑𝐁𝐀𝐑𝐀 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐀 bit surprised that would be the first premiere of the tsarina, she thought that maybe she was invited to one of the festivals of Italian cinema. ❛ Oh, God! I hope not to disappoint then. ❜ She says jokily but really means it. ⏤ If the blonde could be honest, she never really felt like she belonged somewhere, and perhaps the traveling never really was a bother for her, she tries to focus on the positive side of things, even when the situation isn't in her favor. ❛ I hope so too. ❜ Barbara knew she would only stop if she was expelled from her work or anything like that. A marriage will not stop, she will most likely find a new strategy to juggle both, but she does not know how. Everything is in time, right? So far, her wedding has not needed to be rushed, and she is thankful for that. She could sense the wedding would stress her for no end. Despite being a little romantic, she never really liked a wedding for her. She likes to celebrate other's people weddings. ⏤ The blonde is a person who does all her commitments, even the ones she may hate. ❛ I'm ok. ❜ She says with a muffled voice, after clearing her own throat and putting the glass aside since she choked with champagne. Grey-bluish hues watery.

The Hungarian princess had given up on talking about this topic, mostly because she got really bad pieces of advice and didn't want to be judged, however, the tsarina made her feel comfortable enough to talk about this, despite really feeling nervous. There is something about Amara that makes it easy for her to talk about things she hardly talks about. She does not open up easily, even with her own family, she struggles. When the brunette took her hand, she felt she had finally dropped off her mask, and her pupils widened in surprise at the affection, her own heart raced. ❛ He said it was for my well-being, and that we are two different people and whatever, I really came after him twice and it seemed like he did not want to see me anymore. What is the point of going after someone who does not want to see me? ❜ It crossed her mind to give up on a lot of things for him, but he didn't allow it. She tried to convince him they could still be together, but she knew words weren't enough, but any solution for him, he didn't want any of them. It wasn't like there were many options for their situation. ❛ No. She would NEVER. But if Xavier was a king, she would be pleased. ❜ That's what she believed. Her elder sister was too ambitious and would do anything to look good, in Barbie's view of course. What upsets her more, a little heads up first wouldn't hurt, and not being caught by surprise and being the LAST to know. Barbara is like this, she likes the person for what the person is, not for their shiny gold in their pocket or bank account. She knew Xavier had absolutely nothing to offer for her, especially politically but the only thing she wanted was 'love', he chose by pulling her away from him, breaking her heart. ⏤ ❛ I guess so. I don't have anything ill to talk about my fiance. I must confess I wanted to hate him. But how can you hate somebody who is doing everything to please you? ❜ He only surprises her each day, of course, they bicker a little over stupid things but they always try to make up. ❛ On the bright side, I like my fiance, and we manage to spend time with one another. ❜ Aki didn't do anything for her to hate him, also it was wrong not to get to know him first, she knew it and she is the type of person who never the book by its cover.

She looked down, feeling her eyes watered a bit not crying in the minute of silence before going on responding to the tsarina. ❛ In a hypothetical situation, if Xavier and I were together, I would tell Aki that I was dating him. Or ask him to see others, while we get to know each other or ask him to continue to see whoever he was seeing if he was seeing somebody before this arrangement. I don't like lies or betrayals. Lies never last long. And I wouldn't know how he would react, my fiance is very unpredictable. ❜ For a person who was betrayed before, Barbara didn't want to anyone go through this, that was not fair. Betrayal was the reason why the princess shut down romantically for people for years, and she does not easily open up to people in this area. ❛ If I can say something, I haven't told anyone. Since I didn't have time to 'mourn' my heartbreak, I quickly had to get to know my fiance… And as I told you, I don't want to get in another heartbreak ever again, I uh… I ⏤ Uhm, I must confess that something bothering me a little. My fiance is really good, and so good that sometimes he startled me a little with his kindness… Y'know when something is too good to be true? That's how I feel about him. ⏤ What if I am not good enough? ⏤ Also, I don't hate Xavier. My fiance probably will never understand why I don't hate him, but I don't trust him either. ❜ She didn't trust the Count anymore, it had been a little long since they last saw each other. Barbara always forgives people, even when they don't deserve the be forgiven. Now she was finally on her feet again trying to back what she was, and her fiance helped her through this process. ❛ Like I said, my fiance helped me get on 'my feet' again after the mess. I'm not ready to give myself entirely either. I'm a bad person and ungrateful, aren't I?! ❜ Barbara knew she was emotionally vulnerable and unable to handle another heartbreak in a 'row' that was what was stopping her a little at times, the fear of going through everything all over again. It was her problem, not her fiance. ❛ I just want to overcome this fear of going through everything again. ❜

she knows the other will not take amara up on her offer, as she herself see's just how much barbara enjoys spending time with the grand duke. after amara learns how the romanov siblings are raised with cold, and emotionally unavailable parents - an upbringing that's affected them all the siblings in different ways. something perhaps the hungarian princess knows of judging by how the other's elder sister is with all that her friend has shared with the empress. really, her heart aches for all of them. but it was as delightful to see them forge friendships that brought them all out of their shells, little by little.

❛my first movie premier, i'm looking forward to it.❜ babara's excitement is awfully contagious. the empress is certain that of all the royals, barbara is one of the few who lives a very glamours life, and one filled with days doing she loves the most, so much so that the exhaustion of it all doesn't seem to deter the blonde. there are few people who could do so much traveling, even in a few days worth and genuinely enjoy it even if they couldn't stick around in one place for too long. ❛i hope you are able to do this for as long as you want.❜ she tells the other sincerely, because with a marriage around the corner, sometimes situations and circumstances did change. however, marrying a prince, amara is certain babara perhaps will not be buried under responsibilities that would prevent her from continuing her career. she catches the princess cough, her hand reaches out to pat the other's back, ❛are you alright?❜ amara nods, extended engagements are not entirely uncommon, yet again its the look barbara dons that leaves her curious as it does...worried for her friend. the next set of words has the tsarina study the other, certainly there's more to this story.

❛engagements and marriages can be all summed up in one word - complicated.❜ she murmurs, especially for royals and nobles alike. her gaze is still filled with sympathy for the other because amara still fears and suspects that maybe it was a bit of a compromise on the blonde's end. something she's not wrapped her mind around just yet, but something amara understands. she's silent, listening intently as the other explains, and amara is glad that the other feels comfortable enough to share such a thing to the empress. as always is the case with her friends, if they ever needed a ear, she would lend hers. there's a beat of silence as amara reaches out to squeeze the other's hand, her hazel hues softened at what the other shares. though a lot of it made sense now, barbara's reluctance, the fear of another heartbreak whens she's already had one. knowing that barbara has a lover prior to her engagement isn't a surprise as most had a past. in this case, it is a trickier situation knowing the count's position and barbara's. ❛i am sorry that he broke your heart, barbara. whatever his reasons are, for your well-being, or because it was easier for him, it's not easy to have news of a betrothal, and for you to be the last to know of your own.❜ a pause, ❛do you think your sister would have allowed a marriage to the count?❜ her heart goes out for the blonde, knowing that it would be difficult, that its unlikely that the hungary queen would even allow that. however, amara thinks that barbara being with her count while engaged to the prince would have been made it harder down the road for the blonde. her gaze meets the other's blue-grey hues, ❛perhaps not the most ideal way, but it says a lot of your fiance, who instead of making you feel bad for your state of mind then, supported you even then and continues to. its not easy to open your heart to another, not so soon, but i'm relieved to know he's being patient with you, speaks more volumes of his character, barbie.❜ it would not be easy for barbara to forget her first love and heartbreak, ❛you take it one day at a time, you get to know your fiance until then. I believe in time, he might ease your fears.❜ there's another beat of silence, ❛i'd like to ask you something, simply because i hope that as your friend you don't think i'm being out of line as my concern and priority in this case is only you and your happiness, barbara. if the count agreed to be with you, while your engaged, how would this go? would your fiance be alright with it?❜ she is worries simply because, of how it would affect the princess in the long run to keep a relationship in secret with her lover all the while jugging a fiance who could make her happy, want to be with her.

[luwritesomething]

RIFF HEADCANONS !!

riff is a horrible person and i do not condone his actions but mike's portrayal has made me empathized with the goddamn character and i cannot stop thinking about this headcanons so here you go.

ALSO FIRST HEADCANON I SAW IT SOMEWHERE ON TUMBLR BUT I CANNOT FIND WHO DID IT IM SORRY SO CREDS TO THEM THANK YOU FOR IT.

warnings: swearing (in multiple languages).

riff is terrified of pigeons

that was one of the most hilarious conversations with tony.

"hey- are you okay?"

"it's the pigeons man"

"...the what?"

"THE FUCKING PIDGEONS, TONY"

he can't do math.

and he can't read clocks. like,,, he always ask what time is it and if someone points at the clock instead of actually telling him, he gets pretty upset.

greatest climber. used to climb buildings and stuff just for fun.

dropout from school.

he is bad with kids. not purposefully, he is just not a natural. so then he'll be purposely mean with kids.

he tugs at the old necklace he has like a lot, even when he is not nervous.

by the way, tony has the exact same necklace but he doesn't wear it anymore. it's hanged on one of his walls at doc's, though.

he whistles. a lot. constantly. especially when he is alone.

and he is always singing. he would eventually burst into a full singing and dancing show FOR ABSOLUTELY ANYTHING.

terrific dancer by the way. music floods through his veins.

i'm not saying he has anxiety but that's exactly what i'm saying.

the might tony went to jail, he cried himself to sleep.

riff gets extremely nervous during rumbles. like, his anxiety will actually be higher than his adrenaline tbh.

baby john is his favorite, apart from tony. he is just so quiet and calm, he loves him.

fingers guns and bad puns. IF YOU GOT IT YOU GOT IT.

HE IS IRISH.

he never got to meet his mom because she left. as in,,, abandoned him with his dad. he would like to meet her, though, but he know it's practically impossible.

that fake silver bracelet he has? the only thing left from his mom. and his blond hair has the same blond she has.

hates his dad.

with a passion.

seriously

worst you can do is tell him he looks/acts like his dad.

don't do that.

he'll literally punch you. hard. right on the face.

he is a pretty romantic boyfriend and he really doesn't try to hide it because he's not romantic in the type of saying embarrassing adorable full of sugar things.

he is romantic in hands all over their partner, taking them on cute though short and not expensive dates ( doc's, a walk, dancing or maybe even the cinema )

and god, he would like to have money just so he could spoil his partner. he gets kinda upset when he remember he can't, because he totally would.

give him a clip he'll give you a key.

for real

he doesn't remember when did he learn to do that but he knows how to do it so.

this reminds me,,,

he doesn't remember most of his childhood.

yknowasintraumareflex

that's why he always saying he looks to the future.

his teenage years and the parts with tony, he can remember that perfectly, though.

he used to be a crybaby.

riff cried for absolutely anything when he was a kid.

he had to get tough, though. and now the only people who had ever seen him cry are his father and tony.

he still cries to tony sometimes.

he is always talking and running his mouth but he likes to sit in silence and do nothing.

maybe that's why he likes baby john that much, because when riff is silence he doesn't push him to keep talking.

baby john lets him be.

he is good with cars. not as good as diesel, but still

i'm telling yall.

he is crazy about cars.

will shamelessly punch whoever says a motorcycle is better than a good car.

as he should

his favorite cars are fords

they are just so classy and cool.

mouthpiece is the only one who can get him to crack a smile when he is feeling down.

he knows italian and a bit of french because i have this headcanons in which the jets are a huge cultural treasure.

and when he was learning italian with action, who by the way is italian of course, he naturally learned the swearing first.

he spent a whole week randomly screaming italian swear words whenever he got mad - like when he got his toe stubbed - and upset.

"CAZZO"

"what the heck"

"ACCIDENTI VAFFANCULO, PORCA VACCA, STRONZO UGH!"

"action, what-"

"don't ask, tony, just don't"