#the things I’ll do to procrastinate sending a fucking email

[intothedysphoria]

He hadn’t been talking to the guy for even five minutes and Steve’s stomach was already turning itself in knots.

He was like 6 foot, just short of Steve’s height, looked like Eros had become mortal and Steve was pretty sure the guy was trying to sell him drugs. Maybe. He had the same look as Munson who definitely was a dealer. Was it classist to think that?

Regardless, Steve did what he always did when stuck in a conversation with someone beautiful and fucked off.

You absolute fucking loser Steve Harrington.

Robin later came and berated him for being rude. The guys name was Billy, he’d just moved from California and he was just trying to make friends. Steve had evidently not taken any of that information in while panicking.

He sent a quick message via WhatsApp (where else) to apologise and then felt guilty for five days afterwards.

Billy sent back a fairly frosty reply and Steve got the message that they were not going to be the best of friends.

Lucky for him, Billy seemed to be in regular contact with everybody else Steve knew. Even his mom. Fucking typical.

He had a physical embodiment of his shame chasing him around and that shame was blonde.

Claudia insisted that Billy wasn’t even that upset anymore and if Steve just talked to him it would be fine. Steve enjoyed not getting punched in the face and declined that offer.

One person Steve found he did get along well with was Billy’s younger sister, Max. She was a fiery kid with an imagination that veered towards the gruesome and bright red hair. She said Billy could be a bit volatile but he’d cool down. He always did.

Billy did seem to warm to Steve after seeing his closeness to Max. Minutely. Like ice thawing.

Watching how easily Billy talked to Byers, the kids, fucking Munson, Steve let what he’d always known sink in. Steve was a dick.

A dick who was still somehow invited to the Corroded Coffin Halloween concert. Billy was up at the front, practically sitting on the stage, while shouting to the drummer. Steve was sipping a Coke Zero and trying not to have flashbacks to highschool. God, he was awful to everyone in this room.

Tommy was also there for some reason. Probably because he was also obsessed with Billy. It was kind of sad but also nice to be able to talk to someone who wasn’t constantly judging him.

Max seemed like she was kind of freaking out by the latter half of the concert so Steve made sure she got home safe. It was the least he could do, considering Billy seemed like he was busy breaking up a fight.

He got a text the next morning. It was a hell of a lot less curt than the last time Billy had messaged him.

“Thanks for taking care of my little sister Harrington. I misjudged you.”

Max was overjoyed that they were finally getting along. In her words “I knew you two assholes were perfect for each other.”

Perfect was a stretch. Mainly Billy just wasn’t glaring at him anymore. And sending him tiktoks pretty much daily. And inviting him to gigs.

Shit, maybe they were friends. That was novel. Most people didn’t come around to Steve after deciding they hated him.

Steve decided to just ask Billy outright and got the worlds most incredulous yes as an answer.

“You’re funny Harrington” that’s what he’d said.

Steve could live with being funny. Sure, it wasn’t the adjective he wanted to be described with by practically the man of his dreams but it wasn’t the worst.

A new routine formed after the establishment of friendship.

Billy would swing by Steve’s apartment every morning, 9AM on the dot. They’d have coffee and a couple of cigarettes, Billy would kick Steve’s ass at Wii golf and they’d go out to get a pastry together before work. Then they’d meet up after work, Steve would attempt to cook dinner and Billy would stay until about 7:30PM to get back to Max.

When he told Robin of his triumph with Billy, she stared at him very seriously and asked how long they’d been dating. Steve responded that they weren’t. Billy hadn’t said anything about dating so they weren’t. Obviously.

Robin stared at him and slowly shook her head sadly. Rude.

Steve was definitely not Billy’s type. Billy used words like obsequious in casual conversation, he was a hot nerd. Looks wise, Steve had been described as a “solid 7.5” but he was not smart. At all.

Billy was probably interested in Munson, with his constant long speeches about Lord of the Rings. They were so similar it would make perfect sense for them to be.

Well, Steve thought that until he saw Eddie making out with Jason Carver. Huh. Life was full of surprises.

Billy had started sleeping over at Steve’s. Making breakfast for Steve. Sometimes cuddling Steve.

They were just really good friends. Who fucked weekly and were living together.

And had…………matching rings. For like, friendship reasons.

Steves had an emerald on. Billy was just really thoughtful.

Robin looked like she was going to start tearing her hair out, grabbed his face and said “Steve. You’re engaged. I don’t know why Billy is allergic to using words but you are engaged.”

Casually asking Billy if they were engaged had Billy going extremely red and mumbling something about “if you want to be”.

Fuck yes.

They’d been in a relationship for like two years and Steve insisted they celebrate both their anniversary and engagement immediately.

California would be wonderful and Steve had a feeling Billy would agree.

[fairyofsilence]

RISING STAR | 1/7 | THAT’S THE INDUSTRY, BABY SERIES |

Pairing: Producer!Namjoon x Trainee!Reader

Warnings (there's important trigger warnings mentioned, read each one of them carefully and proceed with caution): +18, Yandere, grooming, age gap (reader is 19 while Namjoon is 31), cursing, extreme abuse of power, manipulation, reader has a bad relationship with her mother, self-deprecation, reader has a low self esteem, mentions of unhealthy diets, mentions of toxic beauty standards, both explicit and non explicit sexual scenes; oral sex (m and f reciving), fingering, spanking, protected sex, sex in the work place, loss of virginity, mentions of blood, slight dubcon (she agrees to have sex after he coaxes her into it), mentions of aftercare, mentions of sex, recording of sexual acts without a partner's knowledge, blackmail, forced relationships.

Summary: It's the opportunity of a lifetime, everything you have ever wished for has been presented to you on a silver platter, becoming the next rising star of the critically acclaimed producer Kim Namjoon was a dream come true.

Too bad you are to naive to confuse a nightmare for a blessing.

I don't agree nor condone any of the actions made by any of the characters throughout the story, I also do not belive that any of the members of BTS would act this way or have this type of behaviour, this story it's fiction and it's written with the sole purpose of entertainment.

Word count:  11.3 k

This is the first of seven parts for the That's the industry, baby series, you cand find my main masterlist here. The stories can be read as one shots, the stories just take place in the same universe.

Hello again! It’s been a while, believe me I know, and I also know I’ve been announcing this fic since practically a year now but get this: I’m a depressed college student who loves to procrastinate, but I shit you not tonight I said “fuck it” and finished this enitre fic in eight hours, this is extreamly unedited and I’m posting this at 6 a.m, I’m not even sure I’ll be able to edit this until June but until then please enjoy and let me know what you think! I created this series because I’ve always been shocked at the ammount of disgusting things the entertainment industry has try to hide from the general public, and this series will tackle most of that, withouth more introductions, here’s the first of them, enjoy!

EDITED ON 05/27/2023

You haven’t moved an inch since you’ve put your eyes on the board.

 You’re trembling, you can feel the air starting to leave your lungs, but you don’t seem able to take a breath because you feel like if you so much as blink, the announcement will disappear from the board, and it all just be an illusion.

 But it’s not an illusion, you’re actually looking at the announcement on the board right now, the letters are big, bright, and bold, and there’s no doubt that what you’re looking at now is your name next to the word “Congratulations.”

 “Congratulations Y/N Y/L/N, you won!

You’ve been chosen as Rkive records new rising star.

For more details, check the inbox on your email in which you’ve been send the instructions on what to do next.”

 All sound seemed to quiet down, you couldn’t hear a single thing except a striking white noise ringing on your ears, and although you can feel some of the trainees jumping around trying to congratulate you, you can’t seem to do anything right now, your body is paralyzed, your eyes fill up with tears and you feel as if your heart had gone all the way up to your throat.

 You’ve won, you’re finally going to debut, Kim Namjoon had chosen you.

 It feels surreal, you’ve been waiting for this moment, four years to be exact, and it has finally going to happen, your biggest dream was just a day away from becoming true, a small laugh leaves your mouth at the thought, you’ve made it, you finally made it happen.

 Reality comes back to you in the form of a hug, you realize the person who’s hugging you is Soowon, one of the newest trainees who, after you got her out of trouble with the singing coach, decided to attach herself to you and proclaim the two of you as best friends, she seems more excited than you right now, jumping around while trying to not break the hug, somehow you manage to wrap your arms around her, giving her a weird side hug, but she doesn’t seem to mind, in fact, she seems even more excited after you returned the hug.

 “You did it! I know you would win” She says after hugging me a little bit tighter “It was only a matter of time before this happened, you’ve been working so hard” You feel a tear rolling down your cheek after her words, you finally turn around to return the energy of the hug and while rubbing your back, she whispers onto your ear “I know you’ll be the biggest star of this company Y/N, I’ve known it since the day we met”

 You allow yourself to feel the praise and hugs from your fellow trainees because you know that once you step a foot inside of your apartment, you know that your biggest obstacle from you reaching your dreams is waiting for you inside, so just for a few more hours, you let yourself be happy, because you know that when she finds out about the news you received today, a light argument is the best thing you can’t expect.

Your mother is already at your apartment by the time you got home, and that was the first weird thing you noticed.

The second was that she made dinner, your mother never makes dinner, she always works until late in the night and you’ve survived on rice and instant ramen because of that, but tonight she seems to gone all out, there’s even meat at the table for god sake, and that’s how you know there’s only two reasons behind this happening; she was either fired or she got a new, better paying job, and you’ll be very surprised if it ends up being the latter.

 She has never been good at maintaining a job, and for someone who’s been poor her whole life, she doesn’t seem to understand that to maintain a job is to be quiet, the workers should never complain to their bosses, at least, that’s what you’ve learned during your time in the company.

 She notices your presence after you stand in the entrance for a while, then again, it’s not hard to do so, your apartment is not big enough for you to go unnoticed anyway, she turns off the stove and walks up to you with a smile, greeting you excitedly.

 “Hi sweetheart, sit down please, I’m just going to bring out some plates, okay?” You don’t say anything, but she doesn’t seem to mind the lack of response, turning away from you to grab two plates from the small kitchen cabinet while you set down your backpack and take a seat on the floor in front of the small table, your palms begin to sweat as you mentally prepare to tell your mother about the news, which you’re sure she won’t take kindly.

“How was your day? You usually come back earlier than this, I told you that this trainee stuff cannot interfere with school” And there she goes, you can even seat down in peace for five minutes before she starts listing all the stupid reasons why you should be a trainee, but today you won’t take any criticism from her, actually, today you’ll prove her just how wrong she’s been.

“It was great, I have good news actually” Your voice loses power for a bit, but you pull through it, your mother sits down and seems curious about the news for once.

“Yeah? What is it? You’re finally leaving that company for good? They’re the reason you got two years behind in school” Your eye twitches at her remark but you ignore her before dropping the bomb.

“No, it’s the opposite actually” Her eyebrows raise at that, and she looks at you expectantly before you say, “I’m signing my contract tomorrow, I’m going to debut soon.”

 The silence that follows after your words seems to last an eternity.

 Your mother puts her utensils down, she licks her lips and lets out a deep sigh after a few seconds, she doesn’t like this at all.

 “I was expecting good news” Her words feel like a dagger piercing right through your heart, but you maintain your posture, you can’t let her, and her hurtful words get to you.

“This is good news mom, don’t you understand? I wasn’t sign to a small company, Bangtan signed me, Kim Namjoon chose me” Your mother makes eye contact, and it makes you falter for a second, she always knows how to bring you down when you’re finally going up.

“Who put those ideas on your head? That Kim Namjoon that you always talk about?” Before you can even talk back she cuts you off before adding “Sweetheart, I thought you were smarter than this, when man want something, they’ll say anything to get you” You hate when she does this, when she makes you feel small, making you think you’re stupid without even listening to what you have to say, you hate her.

“First of all, I’m meeting him for the first time tomorrow, so no mother, he hasn’t been putting any ideas on me, and also, why are you acting so shocked at this? I’ve been training for years, you know that it was bound to happen, I’ve been working so hard for this moment to come and the only thing you can say is something negative, can you just say ‘congratulations’ at least? This is something important to me, can you at least pretend that you’re happy for me?” Your voice breaks by the end and instead of listening to your concerns, your mother decides to do what she does best; get defensive after you call her out.

“Why do you always just assume the worst of me darling? I’m just expressing my concern as your mother, is it wrong to be worried about who my daughter is going to be spending so much time with?” Her tone just manages to push you over the edge every time, you don’t even realize you’re crying until a teardrop land on your lap, you’re quick to wipe your tears before she gets the satisfaction of knowing she can affect you so much, you make eye contact with her before responding.

“Why can you just be happy for me mom?” You’re tired of arguing, but as usual, she doesn’t notice how you feel.

"I'm just worried about you, darling. You know that the career you want is risky. What if they change their minds and leave you without warning? What if you get injured before you even have a chance to perform? And what if they decide you're not good-looking enough after a few years? Have you thought about what you'll do then?" The venomous words spill out of her mouth so effortlessly that you're taken aback. Even your mother seems surprised by what she just said, but she doesn't backtrack or apologize. She only looks at you with a guilty expression, her eyes betraying her harsh tone. You let out a bitter chuckle before responding.

“You know what mom? I don’t think you’re worried” you say, your eyes fixed on your hands in your lap before voicing the thoughts that have been on your mind for a long time “I think you’re jealous” The silence in the room was so prominent you could hear a pin drop “I know you were young when you had me and I’m sorry I screwed up your life, but your misery is not my fault, I have to live my own life and make my own path, and being an idol is the path that I chose, so I’ll let things clear for you, you either accept my choices without any type of criticism or I’ll have to leave this place” You stand up and before she can respond, you leave her with this; “although, after signing my contract, I might just leave either way” with that, you make your way to your shared bedroom, not having the courage to say anything after your fight.

Later that night, you noticed your mother quietly slipping into bed, assuming you were already asleep. However, you struggled to find peace, tossing and turning as your thoughts continued to plague you. Every time you tried to close your eyes; you could only see the look on your mother's face after your confrontation. The night stretched on endlessly, and despite your efforts to find rest, sleep eluded you. The weight of guilt lay heavy on your heart, and you knew that the rift between you and your mother had only grown wider. Your once-fragile relationship now seemed completely shattered. However, you were resolute in your decision to pursue your career and follow your dreams. While the thought of losing your mother was painful, the thought of losing this opportunity would have been even worse. With this assurance, you finally managed to drift off into unconsciousness, with the hope that tomorrow you’ll be able to forget about the tough time you went through tonight.

You don’t think you’ve ever been more nervous than you are right now.

 You can feel the cold sweat forming on the crown of your forehead, your body feels like a quivering mass of jelly, the subtle trembles barely perceptible to anyone but you, a physical manifestation of your own nervousness, you’ll be biting your nails too if you could, but ever since receiving the most shocking news of your life you don’t think there’s anything left for you to bite off.

 Today, if everything goes according to plan, you’ll become the newest artist under Rkive’s music records, the most prestigious record label in the entire country, owned by one of the most acclaimed producers of the decade, and your own personal God, Kim Namjoon.

 As you step into Rkive's gleaming headquarters, the air is charged with an indescribable energy. You can practically feel the prestige of the company pulsing through the walls, and the faint sound of music drifting through the halls is enough to send shivers down your spine. You check your phone for the last time just to make sure you got everything down, the instructions they gave you were simple, but your anxiety makes you feel hyperaware of everything, taking a deep breath while closing your eyes you try to calm yourself down, chill the hell out, you say to yourself, you’re going to weird him out, granted, Namjoon might not be weirded out by you but he’ll definitely would think you aren’t ready for this and that’s not the case at all, you've worked so hard for this opportunity, and you won't let your anxiety get in the way now that you're so close to being signed, especially by someone like Namjoon, and given his reputation, being signed by him would be the ultimate validation of your hard work and talent.

 Kim Namjoon isn’t an easy man to impress, because not only has he worked with the biggest stars in the industry, but also, any music related award you can think of; he most likely already has won at least two of those, and if his experience wasn’t intimidating enough, his unwavering commitment to achieving perfection on every aspect of his music is both impressive and intimidating, commanding respect from those around him, and you definitely respect him, in fact, there's no one in the world that you look up more than Namjoon, you want to impress him, make him remember who you are, make him wish he had discover you sooner, you want your idol to want you as desperately as you want him, and you won’t leave this building until you accomplish that.

 As you approach the front desk, the receptionist glances up at you with raised eyebrows, silently urging you to speak. Though her harsh glare could be intimidating, you're determined to stay focused on the reason you’re here. You won't let her nasty glare affect you, not even a little bit.

 You take a deep breath and greet her politely, "Hi." Even though she might be looking down on you, you refuse to be rude. You state your business clearly, "My name is Y/N, and I have a meeting with Mr. Kim Namjoon today in his studio."

At the mention of his name, her glare softens up a bit, but still looks annoyed, with a monotone voice, she says “Wait for just a second please” before reaching for the telephone on the desk, it’s only a matter of seconds after calling when the other line picks up, they exchange a couple of words that you can’t decipher and after she hangs up, she looks back at you with a fake smile before standing up, she speaks with a more cheerful tone this time “Mr. Kim’s assistant is coming down to escort you to his studio, please wait for a moment, you’re welcome to sit down in the lounge as you wait” the receptionist points at the small waiting lounge that’s right in front of the elevators, you whisper her a small thank you before making your way over there, sitting down on the individual sleek black leather couch, impatiently waiting for his assistant to come out of one the elevators.

After sitting there for just a few minutes, you begin to feel very out of place, everything in this building looks, feels, and even smells expensive, and somehow here you are, a nameless trainee with second hand bought clothes, with the smallest, cheapest purse which you keep holding on tightly into your lap, shrinking into yourself more each minute that passes by.

You’ve never had a high self-esteem, but it seems the small bit of confidence you’ve had has disappear after knowing that you’ve won the contest and you will be meeting Kim Namjoon in person, you’re scared, your mind tormenting you with all the “what if?” questions, what if he decides you’re not actually the one?, what if he thinks you’re not good enough?

 What if?, what if?, what if?

 Before you can think about any more ways on how this whole thing could go wrong, the small ding sound of the elevator pulls you away from your thoughts, you’re quick to stand up and soon after that, a short, petite woman steps out of the elevator, her eyes find you quickly after coming out and a small smile appears on her face as she approaches you, clutching a clipboard on her hands.

 “Hi!” Her cheerful tone catches you by surprise, but you smile nevertheless “You’re Y/N right?” you answer her with a small nod, which she ends up mimicking before talking again “I’m Sohee, I’m Namjoon’s assistant, do you have everything we asked you to bring?” you respond with a small ‘yes’ before making a gesture towards your bag, she nods again before signaling the elevator “Follow me please, I’ll take you to his studio so you can talk for a bit before signing” You’re quick to follow her request by stepping into the elevator next to her, she presses the button of the 14th floor and you both wait until the doors close and the elevator starts running, Sohee turns to you and smiles before asking “Nervous?” You let out a small laugh before answering.

“Very, I can’t believe this is happening right now” Your palms begin to sweat, and she laughs as you wipe your hands on your pants, you decide to redirect the conversation towards her “So, how long have you’ve been working for him?” Sohee’s eyes widen up a little bit after your question, she seems genuinely surprised by your interest, but she answers either way.

“Three years next month, my best friend got me this job actually, it’s sort of a long story but to keep things short, she works with Kim Taehyung, he told her about Namjoon needing an assistant and that’s how I landed here” She speaks very fast and you have a hard time catching what she’s saying, but before you can respond, the elevator comes to a stop and the doors begin to open, you’re welcomed by a similar lounge than the one in the reception, only that this lounge had a large plaque that read “Rkive Music Records” in a beautiful gold color, the letters engraved in a pitch-black tone, if you though the lobby looked expensive, Namjoon’s floor was a whole different level.

 “Follow me please, I’ll lead you to his office, he’s already waiting for you” Her words make you shiver, you can’t believe it’s finally happening, the excitement is making your legs shake and you can barely breath as you make your way through the long hallway, passing the small reception desk and several doors of what you can assume are different studios.

 Sohee comes an abrupt stop, causing you to hold your breath until she turns to look at you and with a bright smile, she gestures the door right in front of you, which holds a sleek, platinum plaque with Kim Namjoon’s name engraved on it, you gulp and letting out a deep sigh, she says “This is it, good luck!” She holds up two thumbs and you let a nervous laugh at her antics, she leaves quietly and just like that you’re left on your own, with a shaky hand, you reach to know on the studio’s door, you only have to wait for a couple of seconds, but you’re anxiety is making it seem like time going slower than it actually is, you’re beginning to lose your mind until finally, the door handle turns and you’re face to face with the person you’ve never thought you’ll ever see this close, Kim Namjoon stands right in front of you, with a big smile on his face, his dimples only making him look even more attractive, his dark hair is pulled back and he’s wearing all black, he looks hot and he knows it, that’s what makes him more dangerous, it seems like an eternity before he opens his mouth and says, “Well hello there” His deep voice makes you even more nervous, “You must be Y/N, please, come in” Granted, he chose you as the winner of the contest, he must know your name, it’s logical, but your inner fan cannot believe your idol just said your name so casually, you compose yourself before you answer him with an enthusiastic nod, not forgetting to bow before anything, Namjoon let’s out a chuckle before leaning against the wall to make room for you to walk in, you’re quick to follow, entering his studio while a timid “Thank you” leaves your lips.

 The first thing you notice about his studio is how big it is, you had expected nothing less than this, giving that he’s the owner of this record label, but it still doesn’t make it any less shocking, you almost feel ashamed of the fact that his studio seems to be bigger than your shared apartment with your mom. When you first walk in, there’s a small hallway that leads you to the main part of his studio, but instead of a wall, there’s a huge glass to showcase his biggest accomplishments, his awards are perfectly lined up in multiple shelves and there’s some of his biggest songs displayed with as either platinum or gold records, some of the movies he has produced the soundtrack of are also displayed by a frame with the poster on it, you don’t realize you stopped following him until he reached out to tap you in the shoulder, you turned to look at him and you found him with a teasing smirk on his face, you give him a shy smile in return.

 “Sorry, I was just admiring everything" Your face feels hot, and he lets out a deep chuckle that makes you shiver, his presence alone makes you nervous, and having him smiling and talking to you with that deep voice of his was making you crazy.

"Don't worry, it’s a bit overwhelming isn’t it?” You nod and Namjoon imitates the action “Hobi says that all the time when he comes by” The casual mention of such a huge star makes your eyes go wide and it doesn’t go unnoticed by him, he smiles widely and you could swear he mouthed the word cute, but you couldn’t tell if you were just imagining things or if it actually happened, so you only smiled and continued to follow him through the hallway.

 And if you thought the hallway was something, you weren’t prepared to see his actual studio, in fact, you couldn’t even process your surroundings because Namjoon put his right hand on your lower back, a weird feeling washed all over you but noticing he was guiding you to a small sofa, you turned to look at him and he only gestured with his other hand for you to take a seat, suddenly, your nerves made you feel silly, of course he was just being nice, you were just paranoid.

 “Please take a seat and get comfortable, it’s going to be a pretty long session” Namjoon chuckles after that and you let out an awkward laugh.

 His studio was so intimidating, you couldn't even sit down in peace without thinking you'll probably break something that cost more than your apartment, sensing your nervousness, Namjoon puts his hand on your shoulders while giving you a reassuring smile.

 "Don’t panic, everything's going well" You give him a small nod, and he turns his back after you finally seem to catch your breath, walking towards what seems to be a mini fridge "Would you like something to drink? I have water, some energy drinks" Namjoon pauses and looks up at you with a teasing smile, his dimples full on display, this man would be the death for you "I have beer as well, if you can handle it" He raises an eyebrow and it makes you giggle, Namjoon seems to love your reaction, but he waits patiently for your answer, you compose yourself and finally give him an answer.

“Water is fine, thank you” Your voice is barely audible, but you don’t stutter so you consider that a win, Namjoon nods and pulls two water bottles from the mini fridge, and makes his way to his chair after closing the door.

“So, let’s start talking business, shall we?” Namjoon says after handing you the bottle and sitting down in a chair, the only thing between you and him being the small coffee table where a leather folder lays over it, as well as two fancy looking pens.

“Okay” You agree, and Namjoon’s aura seems to take a shift, exuding power and knowledge, two things you very much lack off.

“So, I’m assuming that you read the contract when you entered the contest, right?” His gaze is so intense it makes you grip on the edge of your skirt tightly, responding with a nod because you know that your voice will give out if you try to speak right now, Namjoon takes your answer before continuing, “Basically, the contract says that we’re making an EP, you will be making all types of promotions and you will be making a music video for the main track, I have some songs ready and while I personally think the artist should have an input on the songs, we were given only two months to deliver a full EP, so as soon as you sign we’ll begin to work, okay?” Your enthusiastic nod makes him smile “Perfect, do you have any concerns about the contract? You should ask questions before signing, you know?” That makes you genuinely laugh, and Namjoon seems happy he has eased your mood a little.

“The contract is only for an EP, right?” Your tone is a bit steadier and Namjoon nods before explaining.

“Yes, but I’m sure your EP will be a success, which means a more permanent contract” Namjoon can sense you tensing up at the probability, so he surprisingly, reaches out to squeeze your thigh before adding “Someone as talented as you shouldn’t be worried about that, your debut will go better than you expect, I’ll make sure of that” His words feel like a soft blanket, providing comfort to your worries, the current position of his hand makes you nervous, but you pay it no mind as you nod and smile, Namjoon is just being friendly, there’s nothing to be scared about.

“So, what about management? Who is going to be my manager?” Your question makes him smile and you’re shocked to the core when his index finger rises up to point at himself, there’s no fucking way “But Mr. Kim, you’ve never- “Namjoon cuts you off before you can finish your sentence.

“There’s a first time for everything, right?” You’re speechless and Namjoon takes your silence as a cue to keep talking, “You know, when I saw your audition, I was starstruck, I even got mad at the management because how in the fuck have they kept you training for so long? Such a talented person deserves to be seen by the whole world” His dragon shaped eyes look directly into yours and you’re left breathless by his praise, hearing those words coming from his mouth seemed unreal “I wanted to be in control of your debut because while this people might have underappreciated your talent, I saw your potential right from the start” His praise makes you feel dizzy and you can’t believe what’s happening right now, you can barely register him reaching out for one of the pens at the table, putting in one of your palms before he asks “What do you think then, would you give me the chance to make you the star you’re meant to be?” You almost feel hypnotized, slowly nodding your head while gripping the expensive pen on your hand, Namjoon’s smile almost seems to shine as he hands you the leather folder containing the contract, you read quickly through the pages before reaching the final one, where your name is beneath a long line, waiting only for your signature, because Namjoon had already signed this.

 With a trembling hand and with a deep sigh, you put the folder on your lap and click on the small button on the pen, you only pause for a second before signing the contract, you’re still in the clouds even after looking at your signature on the strikingly white paper, you lift your head only to see Namjoon looking at you with mischief written all over his face, his eyes seem to hide something you can’t quite decipher, but he soon opens his mind to let you know exactly what his thoughts are.

 “Don’t worry darling, I’ll make sure you become the biggest star this company has ever seen.”

 You knew that becoming an artist was never going to be an easy job, but the amount of times you’ve stayed working late this week alone was ridiculous, turns out, the rumors about Namjoon’s work ethic were true, his perfectionism was driving you insane, the amount of times he had asked you to start a song all over again because he wasn’t a ‘100% sure’ if he like the way you sounded almost made you bang your head against the recording booth wall, but you didn’t, you stayed put, only smiling and responding by putting your thumbs up until he gave you the sign to get ready to start recording again. You sang until your throat became sore, you danced until you stopped feeling your limbs, the fatigue was quickly catching up to you and everything started to pile up fast, you needed to memorize all lyrics and choreographies in less than two months without mentioning all the physical changes the agency was demanding from you, your mother’s words ringing loudly through your ears every time you were reminded to not eat until you were done for the day and even then, your single daily meal would barely make you feel full, you had to control your hunger by eating a small bowl of ice cubes and drinking water.

 You were in the verge of a breakdown when one night after your first month of working together, Namjoon had finally told you that you did great and that you could come out to join him while he worked, you were so caught up with singing your heart out that you didn’t realized that Namjoon had ordered dinner for the two of you, you thanked him by giving him a small bow and a tired smile, he only gestured her to sit down and to eat, and you did exactly that, pulling your chair closer to him before sitting down, to which you could see from the corner of your eye that he smirk at your actions.

 “I didn’t ask for what you liked but I supposed that you can’t go wrong with McDonald’s” Namjoon said while putting his earphones down to his neck and grabbing his own dinner, you made a hand gesture to let him know that it’s fine, McDonald’s right now seems like heaven to your starved stomach.

“It’s okay, you shouldn't worry about me, I would’ve eaten something at home” You dig into some fries and Namjoon sends you a look you can’t quite comprehend.

“Nonsense, how can I not worry about you? Don’t think I haven’t noticed about the stupid diets the company is forcing you to do” You freeze at his words and Namjoon lets out a deep sigh before adding “You should’ve told me before; I would’ve done something earlier” His concern makes you feel guilty, so you try to make excuses to make him (and yourself) feel better.

“They’re just making sure I look good before the filming starts, I have to look my best before debuting, you know that” You can’t even look at him while you’re talking, you don’t know if it’s your shitty diet or Namjoon’s words that make you lose your appetite, but he wasn’t content with your answer, pulling his chair even closer to you, forcing you to finally look at him in the eye for the first time tonight.

“It’s bullshit, you already look perfect to me” His words make your heart jump “And besides, if you don’t eat well, you won’t have enough energy for the live performances, so you better start eating good after today, you got that?” You haven’t even noticed than Namjoon’s hand has made it’s way to one of your thighs, whilst your knees were faintly brushing against his, his sudden closeness catches you off guard, but you make no effort to separate yourself from him.

 During this past month, you have started to catch up on some patterns, patterns that make you feel somewhat uneasy, because while you know it might just be your imagination, you can’t help but to realize how isolated you’ve become after you started to work on your EP, you haven’t spoken to any of your fellow trainee friends because, according to Namjoon, they might be jealous of your upcoming debut so you must focus on yourself right now, which is a fancier way of telling you to not speak to them, besides that, the only interactions you get outside of the building is with your mother, which, after your fight, your relationship with her now consisted on greeting each other at night and leaving the apartment before either one of you woke up, and while you talked with Sohee every now and then, the only constant human interaction you had for the past month has been with Namjoon, and while your silly crush on him remains very much alive, you can’t help but to feel like something isn’t right, his lingering touches make you jump every time it happens, and some of the things he says makes you feel uncomfortable, but you’ve blame it all on your nerves, the deadlines are approaching too fast and Namjoon is only trying to make things easier for you, it makes you feel ungrateful to doubt on him like this but you can’t help it, he’s a man with too much power and you think it’s only natural for someone in your position to feel like this.

 You brush off your inner dilemma when Namjoon asks you if you want to listen to your last recording, passing you a pair of headphones and waiting until you’ve put them before playing it, you’re soon welcomed by the perfect instrumental before hearing your voice through the headphones, no matter how many times you’ve done this by now, listening to your own voice feels just as exciting as the first time, the unfinished song quickly comes to an end, you and Namjoon continue to talk about minor details until you pause the conversation to drink some water, your focus on the large screen on Namjoon’s mixing table makes you unaware of the intense stare he has set on you.

 “Do you have a boyfriend?” Namjoon’s unexpected question takes you by surprise, and stare at the screen in shock before you can answer him.

“What?” You let an awkward laugh out as you look in his direction, his expression being unable to read. Your brain still can't comprehend a reasoning behind his question or why he would be interested in such meaningless matters, but he was your boss now, and you didn’t want to make him mad at you just because you felt a little uncomfortable by his question, so you responded “I don’t have a boyfriend, I never had one actually” You’re anxious and that makes you share more information than what he has asked for, however, he seems to take this information as if it was exactly what he needed to know, he leans back in his chair and gives you a teasing smile after your confession.

“Now that I can’t believe it” You're about to protest in your defense but he finishes what he wanted to say before you get a single word out of your mouth “A beautiful girl like you has never had a boyfriend? That just can’t be true” His smile grows bigger as you get more flustered by his compliments, his hand reaches out towards your hair and tucks the loose strand that covered one side of your face, caressing your cheek with his long fingers as you lean into his touch, welcoming his soft touch after longing for it for what felt like an eternity "I'm convinced now that boys your age simply cannot see a real women even if it’s right in front of them” Namjoon seems to thrive on the effect he has caused in you after you let out a shy giggle at his words, how does he always know what’s the right thing to say?, you feel so giddy inside you feel like you might burst with how happy you felt after hearing those words come out of his lips, did Namjoon really see you as a woman? You simply cannot believe it, a man like him would never set his sight on such a meaningless, young, and stupid girl like you, no, a man like him needed a mature and sophisticated woman who matched his good looks and graceful nature.

“You don’t mean that” Your lack of confidence makes you take distance from him by standing up and trying to walk away from him, but Namjoon seemed to have different plans.

 You gasped loudly as he spined you around before picking you up so easily and placing you over his mixing table, it was a little uncomfortable giving that you were sitting over so many buttons, but right now that didn't bother you in the slightest, especially now that his mouth has quickly found it’s way on yours, the two of you sharing a such a messy kiss that will make you feel ashamed if you were on your right mind, he bites your bottom lip and you let out a small whimper at his actions, Namjoon separates from you only after your lips are red and swollen,  you’re too far gone to notice him parting your legs open with his large hands, looking at you dead in the eyes as he slowly sinks down on his knees and you could help but to stare at him in shock.

 Kim Namjoon, the man who’s technically your boss and the man you have fantasized about for years, is getting down on his knees to pleasure you.

 "Namjoon, what are you.." He raises a single finger motioning you to be quiet and you quickly follow his command, he keeps looking at you as his hands make their way to your ass, gripping it tightly as you let out a soundless gasp.

"Don't you want it baby? I see the way you look at me" His deep voice lures you, his experience showing through on how easily he got you longing for more, his eyes leave yours as he starts kissing up from your knee to your inner thigh, giving you  goosebumps all over "Your pretty eyes light up whenever you see me, it drives me crazy, I can’t hold myself back any longer" He's the one that’s driving you crazy, touching you in ways no one ever has, making you feel desired, willing to give you all the pleasure you can take "Let me do this beautiful, let me taste that pretty pussy of yours" His crude words make you moan as his mouth gets closer to your cunt, you can't this anymore, you need him, as his hands start to grip your underwear, you softly grip his hair and make him look up at you, the sight of him is sinful, messy hair, his dragon eyes filled with lust and his beautiful lips are swollen after the kiss you shared, you need him so bad, you cradled his face in your hands as you speak.

"I just-I've never" You're so desperate for him you can't even form a proper sentence, he chuckles darkly and starts to pull at your underwear, the action making you even more anxious, and without thinking straight, you spit out the truth behind your nervousness "I'm a virgin" His antics stop and his eyes gleam with mischief, although he stopped his movements, his hands didn't move from their position.

"Do you want me to stop then? I would understand if you wanted to, but…" He takes a deep breath while he buries his face onto your inner thigh, you run your fingers through his hair before he speaks again "I really want to eat you out" Namjoon's word send a wave of shivers down your spine and while you’re scared shitless, you don't really feel like it's the right decision to deny a men like him the opportunity to pleasure a little nobody like yourself.

"I want that too" You whisper loud enough for him to hear and the dimples that appeared after you said that made you think that it was completely worth it to ignore your fears.

“I’ll be taking this off then” Namjoon’s deep voice gives you goosebumps as he pulls down your underwear, slowly dragging them down your legs until they hit your ankles, taking them off completely after that.

 You’re shaking and he hasn’t even done anything yet.

 His hands continue to brush up and down your hips, before making its way to the back of your thighs, gripping them tightly, opening your legs just a tiny bit more before starting to kiss on your inner thighs, your hands instantly reaching out to his hair, gripping it tightly at the roots, Namjoon lets out a deep groan that makes you shiver, his touch becomes rougher after your antics, bruising the inside of your thighs as his tongue lapped on your clit, you couldn’t recognize the sound that came out of your mouth, you’re moans becoming louder as his lips latch onto your clit, you can feel his fingers starting to tease your entrance, collecting your slick before pushing a single finger inside, he continues to make out with your cunt before easing a second finger inside you, and your brain stops working as soon as he easily finds your sensitive spot, pushing his fingers in and out quickly, making your eyes closing harshly and your thighs trap him as you let out a scream before coming on his tongue, your legs shaking as he greedily laps your orgasm, he doesn’t stop until you whimper in pain and pull at his hair trying to separate his mouth from you, Namjoon looks sinful with his lips glistening with your slick, you can’t help but moan as you look at him, his hands make their way to your neck and he harshly pulls you into a kiss, it’s so messy and you’re loving it, your small hands caress his back and after a while Namjoon ends the kiss while brushing your hair with his fingers, looking into your eyes before smiling.

 “You’re such a good girl baby, cumming into my tongue like that” His words make you blush, you’re face gets warmer and he laughs at your reaction “Don’t be shy now baby, not after you screamed my name like that” You hide your face into his chest from the embarrassment, and Namjoon continues to laugh as he embraces you in a tight hug.

This only last for a couple of minutes before he turns his head towards you, his mouth being dangerously close to your ear before whispering; “You know, good girls also return the favor” His words make you gulp and you know that it’s only fair what he’s asking for, hell, if it was any other man, he probably would’ve expected you to get on your knees without giving anything in return, and besides, you’re truly wondering how does Kim Namjoon taste like.

“I’ve never done it before” The deep groan that leaves his lips makes you tremble; he gives you a small kiss before smiling down at you.

“Don’t worry darling, I’ll be guiding you ok?” You nod before standing up while holding hands with him, Namjoon takes a step back before sitting down on his chair and the look on his face makes your legs feel like jelly, with a low, deep voice, he commands “Get on your knees for me baby.”

Taking a step forward so your body fits inside his open legs, you slowly sink down onto your knees, Namjoon lazily motions at his crotch before saying “Go on then, pull my cock out.”

 Your nerves make your hands shake as you reach for his belt, unbuckling him with minimal effort was well as unbuttoning his pants with ease, Namjoon seems desperate with the way he’s helping you by dragging his pants mid down his thighs, his hard cock hitting his lower stomach, making your mouth water at the sinful sight, Namjoon smiles at your reaction “Take it with your hands baby, c’mon” your small hand reaches out to touch him and Namjoon lets out a hiss before adding; “Suck on my tip baby”.

 Gradually, with Namjoon’s help you soon started to set a slow peace, making him lose his mind at the sight.

 Your pretty young self on your knees, mouth full of his cock, gagging all over him making him go feral, he doesn't know why he's losing his mind this bad, truthfully, this isn't the best blowjob he's ever had, but it's the fact that it's your first time doing this, making him the only men who's ever gotten to see you like this makes his hips buckle into your mouth making you gag even louder, and he can't help but to let out a deep groan while gripping your hair even tighter. He must completely ruin you now, he needs to mark you so that every man knows who’s doing this to you, that you did everything you could to please him and him only, that you belong to him, forever.

 Your lazy blowjob only last for a couple more minutes before Namjoon decides he’s had enough, with a single pull of your hair, he forces you to separate your mouth from his cock, a trail of saliva connecting you to his tip, Namjoon has never seen something so hot in his life.

 You look up to him expectantly, and you can only let a small yelp after his strong arms push you up until your standing onto your shaky legs.

 He roughly bends you over his mixing table, his equipment making you feel slightly uncomfortable giving the position he had chosen but you stay put, not wanting to disappoint him, he coos at you for being so obedient and quietly apologizes is he has hurt you, you appreciate his concern and decide to wiggle your hips at him in anticipation, Namjoon laughs and spanks your ass, making you squeal and jump at the unexpected action, you feel him leaving his position behind you, you try to look for him without leaving the position he has put you in and you find him looking through one of his drawers, he's probably looking for a condom, you thought, and your suspicions turn to be correct, the platinum package shining under his studio lights, you can feel the anticipation running through your veins, you're about to have sex for the first time with none other than Kim Namjoon, you were one lucky bitch.

 While you feel excited, you're also anxious, what if he's not satisfied with what you have to offer? How can you compete with the types of women that have been like this with him? What if you're not enough for him?

 You're panicking and Namjoon only notices after taking a condom out of the box, he walks up at you and quickly wraps his arms around your waist and begins to shush you after your breathing starts to rapidly increase.

 "Relax baby, I'm not doing anything you don't want me to" He whispers into your hair and then gives you several pecks, his actions relaxing you only briefly before you start panicking again.

"I just… What if you don't like me afterwards?" You whisper pitifully while a single tear rolls down your cheek, Namjoon holds you even tighter after that.

"Oh baby, I feel like it's the opposite" His arms lift you enough so that he can kiss your cheek, helping you clear your negative headspace for a bit "I don't think having you just once it's going to be enough for me" You turn your head to look at him just to find him already staring at you, with one look you could tell that he means what he said, and that it's what makes you give in, you nod your head a couple of times and bend over the mixing table again, taking a deep breath and clutching at the border of his keyboard, you gain the courage to ask for what you want.

"Take me Namjoon, I want to be yours" You try to sound as sensual as you can but you don't think it worked giving how much your voice was trembling, but Namjoon savored each word that you just said, silly girl, of course you'll do anything to please him, and now that he knows he's going to be the first man to claim you, he's sure now that he won't let any other man taint you the same way he's going to.

 Coating his fingers with the remains of your previous orgasm, he starts by stretching you by inserting a single finger inside, your walls almost instantly gripping his finger tight  as you let out a loud moan, look at yourself, being such a good whore for him, he's going to reward you for being so good for him but right now the only thing on his mind is fucking you, so he quickly sets up his peace and starts to finger you, adding another finger inside and having his palm rub directly onto your clit, knowing that with your inexperience, this would probably be enough for you to cum once more.

 You couldn't even try to hold in your screams, everything felt like it was too much but also felt like it wasn't enough, you couldn't understand if you needed him to stop or to go even faster, his long fingers pumping into you and reaching all the right places, making you moan and close your eyes in pleasure, at this point you didn't even know your own name, the only thing you knew is that when he plugged a third finger inside of you, you were not going to last any longer.

 "Oh god! Namjoon, please-I, please" You couldn't even form a sentence, you wanted to tell him how desperate you were to cum, yet words came out of your mouth like a bunch of gibberish, you reach out to grip his arm and Namjoon was thrilled watching you struggle, the effect he has on you it's almost comical to him.

"It's alright baby, I know what you're trying to say," His other hand reaches out to roughly grab onto your breast and you're right there, needing that extra push to finally let go, and his next words are the push that make you climax "Cum on my fingers like the good girl I know you are".

 You felt like your soul left your body, if the first orgasm felt good, this one was heavenly, waves of pleasure rolling through your body in ways you couldn't describe, Namjoon stops his ministration but doesn't pull his fingers out, relishing how your release is coating his fingers as you're panting for air, he delivers a series of kisses into the back of your neck and lets you take several breaths before letting go of your body for a brief moment, you're about to ask him why he's pulling away but then you hear the sound of his pants drop into the floor, he rubs your lower back as he reaches for the condom, you look over your shoulder to find him ripping the package open and when noticing you having your eyes on him, he smirks as he rolls up the condom onto his length, you gulp as you're reminded that everything about Namjoon is huge, he doesn't take his eyes off of you as he finally positions himself behind you and rubs your hips as a form of reassurance, you smile at him and try to lift your hips a bit more, slightly rubbing your cunt against his cock, Namjoon hisses and spanks your ass after that, you let out whimper and his hands grip onto your hips.

 "Dirty girl, I'm trying to be nice to you and here you are, rubbing yourself all over me” His hand rubs your ass as he drags his cock up and down your opening, teasing you as he barely pushes in before backing out, repeating the action until he finally pushes in, filling you to the hilt, you whimper at the unfamiliar feeling and Namjoon shushes you at the sound “Sorry baby, does it hurt too much?” His voice flatters and you think he’s also having a tough time by containing himself like this, his struggle making you feel better.

“Doesn’t hurt, just feels weird” You weren’t lying, while Namjoon was on the bigger side, you were also wet enough and stretched for him, you only needed a couple of minutes before saying “You can move now.”

 It only took him a moment before grabbing your hips tightly and started to rapidly thrust into you, his actions making you grip the table for dear life as his movements quickly became all too much, with each snap of his hips, your body sunk into too a much deeper pleasure, your breast starting to bounce at the same time his hips slammed into your ass, you couldn’t control the screams that left your mouth with all the pleasure you were experiencing now.

 “Namjoon, fuck-baby” You don’t even understand what you’re saying, especially as Namjoon’s hands leave your hips as one of them reaches out for your throat and the other one reaches out for your clit, his fingers making fast circular motions that make you grip on his wrist, you have no force left to stop him from overstimulating you, you’re forced to take everything he gives you.

“It’s alright my love, cum for me, cum on my cock like the dirty slut you are” His degrading words only make you wetter, your legs shake and your body spams uncontrollably as you cum, your tight walls making it impossible to Namjoon to hold his own orgasm in, he comes hard clutches you tightly into his arms, slowly thrusting into you until his cock turns soft, only then he pulls out from you.

He looks down only to be greeted by the sight of your wet cunt, both of your thighs covered in a deep crimson shade, Namjoon chuckles darkly at this, he takes out the condom and discards it into the trash can before taking you in his arms, bringing you to lay down on his large dark sofa with him, you’re too far gone to notice his sinister smile as he looks into the top right corner of his studio, where the faint sight of a red blinking dot can be seen only for those who look for it, and Namjoon knew exactly where to look.

 He was after all, the person that set it right there.

The first time you stepped into the Bangtan building, you expected to be stared at, nobody knew who you were and being a stranger to them you couldn’t expect them to not be curious about you, plus, the stares started decreasing after they found out who you were and why you were there all of the sudden, but right now, the back of your head was burning with the amount of people looking shamelessly at you, and it wasn’t just the fact they were all staring, it was the fact that their looks were full of hatred, they were looking down at you and you don’t have a single clue of why would they do that, you’ve never been mean to any of the staff, you start to overthink in the middle of the hallway before you realize the reason why they could be staring, shit, do they know what happened last night between you and Namjoon? No, you quickly say to yourself, that’s impossible, no one else was in the floor when you and Namjoon got out of the studio until late hours of the night, he took you to his house, where you repeated what you did in his studio all over again in the late night, and in the early morning as well, but there still isn’t an explanation on why everyone had suddenly turned on you like this.

 For the last month, walking into Namjoon’s studio always felt like you were coming into the place you belonged, a safe space where you could be free and be yourself around him, but today, it felt like you were walking into your death sentence, you didn’t want to believe everyone found out because of last night, that couldn’t be true, right? Maybe Namjoon told Sohee that you were together now, and she probably spread the word around the label, right? Namjoon would never betray your trust like this, right?

 Wrong.

 You don’t find Namjoon in his studio, instead, you find a laptop on top of his mixing table, the screen is turned off but the sound it’s making and the turn on button being lit up tells you that it’s on, you take a seat in your usual chair but the sticky note over the screen makes you want to snoop in a little bit.

 “Here you go Hyung, and don’t worry about anything, it looks and sounds amazing ;)” What could it be? Namjoon didn’t say anything about working on anything else besides your EP, and he also said he wasn’t compromised with any projects right now, so you doubted this was about work, what could this be?, the curiosity got the best of you, so you move your fingers around the touchpad until the screen lit up.

 You didn’t want to look into his stuff without permission, but you were so curious about what this could be. The screen showed a video player with no thumb nail on it, so you pressed play and waited for the video to show.

 How badly you wish you didn’t do it.

The first thing you hear is a moan, your moan, it’s loud and it’s filthy, your eyes fill with tears as you realize what’s going on.

 It’s a video from last night, and not only does the video show everything that happened last night, but your face is also very visible, the quality doesn’t let it up to speculation.

 Namjoon recorded you having sex with him, and he made sure your face was visible on the entire video.

 You’re too horrified watching the video play to notice the presence of that man behind you, you only notice after him getting close enough to catch his shadow onto the screen.

 “Namjoon, what is this?” You could barely speak, air seemed to abandon your lungs after what you just watched, the most vulnerable and intimate moment in your life, captured on video like it meant nothing. You turn around to face him while Namjoon keeps a neutral expression despite your distress, the man you’ve come to know, and love was nowhere to be found, in his place was this mean and coldhearted man who doesn’t seem to realize how much he’s hurting you.

“What do you mean darling?” You don’t even realize you’re standing up and he’s in front of you now, his tone being so condescending that it makes you feel disgusted, he traps you into his arms and forced you to look at him in the eyes by harshly gripping your chin up, his mocking smirk breaking your heart when you realize that he doesn’t want to comfort you like he has done so many times before, right now, Namjoon is making fun of you “Don’t you like it? Because personally I loved it, it really captured how well you took me last night, how you were a good little slut just for me” A heart wrenching sob left your mouth and Namjoon tsk at you while shaking his head, his evil smirk doesn’t leave his face for a second “What’s the matter baby? You don’t like me calling you a slut? You didn’t seem to mind that nickname last night” He has the audacity to laugh at you and instinctively you begin to weakly try to break free from his hold, tears streaming down your face.

“How could you do this to me?! Fuck you!” Each time you try to get out of Namjoon’s tight hold and run as far as you could from him, his grip only became tighter, so tight that it started to hurt, you let out a pained whimper, but Namjoon didn’t seem to care at all, gripping your chin even harsher this time.

“And where do you think you’re going baby, huh?” You can’t stand his fucking tone anymore, you need to get out of here, now.

“You won’t get away with this, I’m going to tell everyone what you did!” You try to stay firm, but every time Namjoon laughs you seem to get smaller and smaller, his mocking tone making you feel dumb.

“Yeah baby? What exactly are you going to say?” He spins you so that you’re facing his laptop and keeps a tight grip on your waist with one hand as he presses play once more with his other hand, the lewd sounds from last night echoing his studio, making a new set of tears appear into your eyes, you closed your eyes while shaking your head, Namjoon grips you by the hair while forcing you to watch the awful video, you whimper as you are forced to relive what you thought was an intimate moment and  you’re horrified realizing it’s anything but that. “You look pretty willing to me, in fact, if we go back to it you can even hear you begging for me” Another sob leaves your lips and Namjoon kisses your cheek after hearing your distress “Aw, don’t cry sweetheart, it’s not like you think, this wasn’t meant to hurt you” He tries to wipe your tears off but you swat his hand before it comes close to your face “Why are you so mad at this? I thought you would like it” You're in a daze right now, and his words only make you feel more confused. How could he think that you will like this? He invaded your privacy and betrayed your trust by unknowingly filming you in the most intimate moment of your life, Namjoon seems to sense your confusion and lets out a small cooing noise.

“Oh baby, you really don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for this, don’t you? I had to make sure you didn’t chicken out on me, I can’t let you go that easy, not after waiting too long to have you” His words only confuse you even more and you’re left with more questions than with answers.

“How could you possibly met me before this?” Your voice was barely audible at this point, but you know he heard you just fine, your throat closing up even more when he laughs while not breaking eye contact, before all this mess, Namjoon’s presence was already intimidating, but right now is downright terrifying, you can feel your legs giving out when he comes closer to you, gently cradling your face in his hands, more tears rolling down your cheeks as he begins to speak again.

“Oh darling, you’ve always been so eager, so gullible” The confusion your feeling must be visible to him because he lets a small tsk whilst grabbing a small strand of your bangs to push it behind your ear, his playful tone doesn’t leave his voice.

“It was a mere casualty really, Hoseok asked me to come to the main Bangtan building after one of his rehearsals, but on my way to his practice room, I saw a group of trainees in the smallest dancing studio in the building, dancing to the same part of a song over and over again, most of them messing up every time, except for one” Your entire body freezes and you feel like you might collapse at any moment, this can’t be happening, this isn’t the way things should be going now “I knew from the moment I saw you were going to be a star, and when I started to find out more about you, let me just say I was delighted with what I learned” You need to run, you have to get out of here, but before you can even make a run for it, Namjoon holds you tightly into his arms before he says “I don’t think that’s a good idea baby, you don’t this video to end up in the wrong hands, do you?” Your eyes widen up in fear at the mere though and Namjoon has the audacity to laugh at this “My career will remain intact after this, it might even become good publicity for me, but yours? Oh darling, this will be your downfall, a trainee fucking her producer to assure her success, that’s just low” You violently shake your head at his words.

“That’s not true! That’s not what happened, and you know that!” You’re yelling but no matter how loud you yell, it doesn’t seem like he can hear you, he only brushes you off with an uninterested look.

“I know that darling, but other people don’t, I know you’re a hard working girl who’s fought to be in this position, but they won’t see it that way, if their looking at you like scum now just thinking that we might be dating, imagine how they’ll treat you when they found out you let me fuck you so easily” You can’t control the heartbreaking sob that comes out of your mouth, and Namjoon coos at your pathetic attempt to make him feel guilty, pushing your head into his chest as he embraces you in a hug “Oh but don’t cry baby, I won’t let that happen to you, your my little superstar aren’t you? As long as you stay with me, I’ll make all your dreams come true” His loving and caring tone doesn’t give you butterflies in your stomach anymore, it only makes you feel like you want to puke, and although his actions say otherwise, you’re left with the only option you have left: you believe him, what else can you do after all? No matter what you do, every choice will make you lose, but one will make you lose everything you’ve worked hard for, while the other will make you lose your dignity, and frankly, you don’t know which one is worst.

 Namjoon continues to hug you, his hold feels like poison now, who you once considered the man of your dreams has become your biggest nightmare in the blink of an eye and there’s nothing you can do to get away from him now, he kisses you harshly, your tears coming in the way but he seems to be great at ignoring them, and as he deepens out the kiss, there’s only one thought that bitterly crosses through your mind.

 You should’ve listened to your mother when you had the chance.

[hircines-hunter]

20 Questions for Fic Writers!

sorry let me post this on the RIGHT blog! not sure if the other tags stay if I delete it but. Thank you @rakaiawriter for tagging me! Tagging @thequeenofthewinter @umbracirrus @madamefluffnstuff @bostoniangirl21

How many works do you have on A03? 18 works (mostly bc I dont post my oneshots separately).

What's your total word count? 174k on AO3 (I have a lot that is NOT posted and a bunch that’s been scrapped. Like probably another 100k+ more words lol

What fandoms do you write for? TES, Dragon’s Dogma (Eventually one day I’ll write my One Piece things)

Top 5 fics by kudos? Just a Ruin (and Mudcrab) Advocate  54 Kudos Coldfire Codex  29 Kudos Roar of a Wolfborn 25 Kudos Mages’ Guild Fiasco: Journal of Vestige Liselle 22 Kudos Shadows Preserve Us 22 Kudos

Do you respond to comments? I try to! I do keep them in my email though! <3

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? It is not posted anymore, but I wrote out a miniseries for Sifkni’s past. So, if you are reading the newly updated version of Roar of a Wolfborn, you probably never got to experience the angst that was Howls of Whiterun (If you are interested and want to read stuff from 2014/2015 send me a DM I can send the document of trash :3)

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? Rage of Dragons and the Vestige - It’s the 3rd part in Liselle’s story. It covers Northern Elsweyr. She gets married to that old man, Abnur Tharn. Gets herself a Khajiiti Wedding bc that’s where they were.

Do you get hate on fics? I have in the past. For my old crack fic for Kingdom Hearts. I’ve recently found my one Dragon’s Dogma fic on a stupid website that says your writing is shitty or whatever. LOL I’m more angry about it, but like, it was written for fun… nothing serious my dudes. ( I can also supply this link but honestly its stupid.) The fic was written in 2014? 2015? And the review was posted in 2019?? XD

Do you write smut? I have but I will not write it anymore. It makes my physically ill sometimes. I get really bad anxiety over it.

Craziest crossover? I have a fic from like…2001? That was just a bunch of my husbandos from all my favorite animes falling in love with me. :3c, but nothing recent. Crossovers are not my things.

Have you ever had a fic stolen? YES! OMG! Someone stole MY fic idea and then TRIED to say I PLAGIARIZED THEM! The absolute! NERVE!

Have you ever had a fic translated? Not that I am aware…. I’ve had people use my translations of doujinshi to make more translations?

Have you ever co-written a fic before? Yes. It was quickly dropped due to his time constraints and low interest in TES at the time. Attempted to write it myself, but it wasn’t the same.

All-time favorite ship? Abnur Tharn x Liselle Yvette Farkas x Sifkni

What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? Frostfalls of Solstheim - I dont know why I EVEN started this, but not sure I will finish it Shadows Preserve Us - I hate this so much. I love Ragna and I love Mercer, but its been so hard to focus on this now. I might rewrite one day.

What are your writing strengths? Fuck if I know.

What are your writing weaknesses? I think I hate it sometimes? I procrastinate A LOT!

Thoughts on dialogue in another language? As someone who inserts random Ta’agra, Jel and Dovahzul into their fics…. :)

First fandom you ever wrote in? Slayers Next??

Favorite fic you've written? Just a Ruin (and Mudcrab) Advocate or Roar of a Wolfborn

[three-strikes-of-void]

I’m doing that thing where I gaslight myself by saying “it’s only 9 weeks left in the semester it’ll be fine” when in reality I just got a 68 on a quiz, I probably just bombed a midterm, I have 2 midterms on Monday (YES ON THE SAME DAY), I have several assignments due this coming week that I haven’t even started or barely started, and I’m so burnt out I literally don’t think I could even lift a pencil without having a breakdown or shutting down. I swear to god I need to get my shit together or I’m going to fail every class because I’m so burnt out I can’t even THINK about doing my assignments but I know they need to be done so I can’t rest because I know the assignments exist and that there will be more assignments. I’m fucking drowning and I can’t even open an email to send to my professors to ask for help because one of my professors already sees me as a “problem student” because I take a little longer on things and I have a testing accommodation and I’ve heard how he talks about students with testing accommodations. And another one of my professors is an absolute sweetheart but I just cannot follow how quickly she goes in her class. I understand the content and I do fine in the homework and recitations, but that’s because I’ve taken chemistry before. But any new content is just going over my head and her office hours are at 8 AM. And I’m barely getting enough sleep as is. I’m getting about 6 hours a night, and I’m constantly tired and can’t focus and I honestly think I can’t fucking do this. I seriously need a break and breaks just don’t fucking exist in university. The only class I’m doing well in is my engineering class because it’s group project based and I’m good at organizing and managing group projects. And the homework for that class is piss easy. But oh my FUCKING god don’t get me started on my anthropology class. We’re expected to watch hour long films every week and answer discussion board posts and honestly like I can’t focus for an hour. I have adhd and memory loss and I genuinely forget everything five minutes later. If there’s no transcript it’s like I never watched the film at all. The exams are open note open book so I think I’ll be fine but I’m genuinely just like. I’m drowning and no one can help me because it’s college and in the end in college you are on your own no matter how many people are supporting you and helping you study or how many accommodations you have. I am alone. People offer to help me. And I understand concepts when I’m with people and studying. But then when I’m taking the test it’s just gone. I can’t fucking do this I can’t with the memory loss I genuinely am not built for school I can’t do five more years of this. I’m so fucking burnt out and I just started. I’m not good enough, I’ll never be good enough, and the fact that I’m having breakdowns like this every fucking week is proof that I’m not good enough.

And it’s not like I’m procrastinating by doing anything I enjoy, either. My mind is focused on the thing I need to do and am not doing. I am sitting there, in my bed, paralyzed for hours on end doing absolutely nothing because I shouldn’t be doing the things I enjoy but I’m not doing the things I should be doing.

[asexualjedi]

Everytime I sit down to work on my law school app soemthing comes up I’m really gonna have to baraccade myself in my room sometime and have someone else watch the dog/time it perfectly so I’ve played with her enough she’ll sleep for a few hours and get most of this done in one sitting bc trying to do it over time is not going great.

[egcdeath]

finders keepers

summary: did captain america just steal your cat?

pairing: steve rogers x reader

word count: 2.5k

warnings: tooth rotting fluff, strangers to lovers

author’s note: it’s been way too long since i wrote some pure, self indulgent fluff. this has been quite the refreshing experience for me but i think it’s back to our regularly scheduled program after this ;)

you can find my masterlist and taglist here

Miso had an air of arrogance that you admired. She took the world by its kitty balls, doing whatever she pleased whenever she pleased. Your cat left the apartment for sometimes days at a time, and frequently led male cats to your door. To you, your cat was more like a roommate than a pet, hogging up most of your bed, standing on the counter while you attempted to make food for yourself, and leaving most areas dirtier than she originally found it. 

Okay, maybe you were personifying your cat a little too much. But after moving out to D.C., you were unspeakably lonely. Most days, it felt like Miso was all you had, and that you were all Miso had (save for her army of cat boyfriends). 

This made things all the more concerning for you when you’d realized that you hadn’t seen your cat companion in five days. Five whole days without the comforting vibration of her purr, her ungodly hours of wakeup calls demanding to be played with, or pet. The cherry on top was that the cat food outside your door appeared to be completely untouched.

In your frenzied realization of your missing cat, your mind raced with a thousand different terrible situations your dear Miso could’ve found herself in. You frantically clicked through pictures of her on an online album and attempted to find a photo that would capture her white fur with large blobs of auburn, and her vibrant blue eyes to put on your ‘MISSING’ sign. The longer you clicked, the more that you began to worry that she had been caught and kidnapped by some terrible person with bad intentions. 

You finally threw together the poster, sending it to your phone so that you could print it off at the OfficeMax down the street. Luckily for you, you didn’t make it that far, as the moment you began to lock the closed door of your apartment, you saw the unmistakable figure of your cat. 

In the arms of your neighbor.

Now, you’d never met Steve. He was an Avenger, Captain America to be exact, and you were just… you. You’d convinced yourself that attempting to introduce yourself to him would ultimately end in failure, and an embarrassing one at that. Maybe he’d scoff and walk away, or call Tony Stark in front of you and tell him about the crazy woman he just encountered. 

But none of that mattered. Captain America was stealing your fucking cat. 

“Excuse me, sir?” You asked, stepping away from your door and approaching the Greek God of a man to the right of you. 

“Oh, hey! We must be n-“

“You have my cat,” you said bluntly.

“I’m sorry, what?” Steve seemed to do a double take

“My cat, y’know, the feline in your arms.”

“Well, maybe we just have similar looking cats. This is Arabella.”

You nearly scoffed at this, shaking your head. First, Captain America kidnapped your cat, and now he’s trying to convince you that it’s not your cat? Yeah, you’d know Miso from a mile away. And what kind of name is Arabella?

“Arabella is a great name for her,” Steve retorted, pulling the cat closer to his chest. Shit, did you say that out loud?

“Well I think it’s time for Miso to come back home,” the cat’s ears perked at this, and she glanced over at you. The sight of you made her wiggle and hop out of Steve’s tight embrace, landing on her feet and trotting over to you. The damn cat rubbed her face against your calf and purred as if she hadn’t been cheating on you for long enough to have gained a new name.

You squatted down and rubbed the back of your hand against her cheek, and shook your head at your pet, “you’re getting put on probation, young lady.” 

She didn’t seem to mind, pacing back and forth around you. You glanced up and saw Steve with a rather neutral expression on his face, as if he was masking whatever it was that he was feeling.

“I’m sorry about that, ma’am. Uh, maybe I’ll see you both around sometime,” disappointment coated his every word before he opened up his apartment door and promptly closed it behind him. 

You were surprised at how quickly he conceded, but you weren’t particularly mad about it either. You weren’t sure what you’d do if you never got your Miso back.

——

A whole day later, you’d been in your apartment typing up an email when a soft rapping at your door got your attention.

“Just a second!” you called, hopping up and hurrying to the door. When you opened it, Steve was standing in front of you, waiting with an oversized box in his hands.

“These are some of Ar- Miso?” he trailed off, waiting for you to confirm the name, and you gave him a tiny nod. “These are some of Miso’s toys. I just figured if she’s not staying at my place anymore…”

As if on cue, Miso strolled up to the door, and stretched her arms up on Steve’s leg, begging to be picked up. The man glanced at you for approval, and you gave a dismissive shrug before he set down the box, and held up the cat.

Steve frowned as he held her, and frankly, it pulled on your heart strings. You had to remind yourself that this man had been holding your cat captive for at least a week, and at most… who knows. 

She clearly had a connection with him, and that was what intrigued you most. Miso was a very picky cat, and it was only occasionally that she found someone that she genuinely liked, let alone wanted to be picked up by. If you continued to watch the display of affection in front of you, you might just cave.

“Uh, I left something in the oven for a little too long, so I should probably go get that. Thanks for stopping by.”

Steve nodded, understanding that it was time for him to exit.

——

You should’ve seen this coming the minute Miso was back in your home. You stepped out of the shower one morning to find your front door slightly ajar, and your animal nowhere to be found. 

You huffed, frustrated that just three days after you told yourself that your cat was completely indoor from that point on, she had escaped. She could literally be anywhere at this point.

In a whirlwind, you threw on a sweatshirt and pants, ready to go print out the missing posters that you had designed just a few days ago. As you slipped on sneakers, you realized something very crucial. She might just be at Steve’s place.

You groaned aloud, rubbing your temple as you thought of how difficult your cat was being. You were becoming a bit nervous to approach Steve, you hadn’t gotten off to the greatest start, and if your cat wasn’t there, things might just be awkward.

Regardless, you knew you needed to try, so you exited your own home, and knocked on the door of Steve’s.

A few moments later, he appeared with your cat in tow. 

“Hey!” he paused and trailed off, “I never got your name before.”

“That’s what you care about right now?” you glanced down at your animal. “It’s Y/N, by the way.”

“Hi, Y/N. Miso and I were just enjoying breakfast, if you’d like to join us?”

Was Steve shooting his shot? 

“I appreciate your offer, but I think I’m alright. I have to get back to work, and my cat is still in your custody,” your eyes flickered down to the animal who stood proudly by his side. 

“Maybe some other time,” he shrugged. “You work from home?”

You nodded, then squatted down to get eye level with your cat. 

“I’m jealous,” he chuckled. “Alright, I’ll stop bothering you now. Bye Miso, see you around, Y/N.”

You picked up your cat, who briefly dug her nails into the ground in resistance before submitting to her capture. As you brought her back home, you couldn’t help but wonder if you’d made the right choice.

——

Ever since you’d discovered Miso, or Arabella’s secret life, it’s like you couldn’t stop noticing her connection to Steve. 

Some days, she’d be gone until the dead of night, when she’d meow and paw at your front door until you woke up. Other times she’d be laying in bed with you, and she smelled distinctly of your neighbor. Your cat had single handedly turned a stranger into a thoroughly integrated part of your life.

It was as if Miso was now your child, and Steve your ex-husband in a Cold War style custody battle, where Miso seemed to prefer her father. It was slightly disheartening. At the very least, you knew she was in good hands. 

You held a throw pillow to your chest while you watched a rerun of a sitcom on your television, procrastinating in your work for as long as you possibly could. The sound of a knock on your door pulled you from your trance, and as you peeked through the peephole of your door, you saw a slightly distorted Steve.

Opening up the door, you gave him just the faintest hint of a smile, “what’s up, neighbor? Need me to grab you some treats for Arabella, or something?”

“Kinda the opposite,” he gestured with his head down to the cat squirming in his hands. “I’m gonna be gone on a mission for the next week or so. I just wanted to let you know that if Miso gets out, she’s not with me.” 

Steve set her down on your carpet, and she happily collapsed at your feet, “keep her safe for me, alright?” 

——

You took a deep breath as you approached his door, hoping he hadn’t left just yet. You fiddled with the sticky note containing your number, and polaroid photo of your cat in your hand, considering turning around and scrapping the idea all together. 

It was silly to think that an Avenger would ever bother reaching out to you. You were probably overstepping anyway. Steve would think you were a freak and take full custody of your beloved Miso once and for all. 

Going against your better judgment, you set down the polaroid-note combo and quickly slid it under Steve’s door. Whatever happened happened.

The next morning, you were pleased to receive a notification from an unknown number. 

Send Miso pics?

You were more than happy to oblige. 

——

Over the course of Steve’s week-long mission, you’d sent several pictures and videos of your cat doing random things. Trying to get on the table, sleeping on top of your dryer, and even playing with one of the toys Steve provided.

Surprisingly, Steve wasn’t as dry of a texter as you thought he’d be. He was eating up all of the Miso content, and would occasionally even ask for you to send more photos. 

The final night of his mission, you were surprised when you received a FaceTime request, at first writing it off as a technical error (he was from a different time period, after all), but the follow up call demonstrated his intentions.

You cautiously picked up, the knot in your stomach growing as you did so, “hello?”

“Hi!” Steve greeted optimistically, the phone just a bit too close to his face. “Any Miso sightings?”

“Yeah, she’s actually sleeping on my foot right now,” you chuckled, flipping the camera so you could show her off in your dim, lamp-lit bedroom. 

“So cute,” he hummed, “how have you been?”

“Me?” you laughed quietly, “I’m not the one on a top secret mission in god-knows-where. But I’ve been fine. How are you?”

“Honestly? I’m pretty tired. Kinda can’t wait to get home and see you and Miso,” he said in a quieter voice. 

Your brain stalled out for a second. Steve was excited to see you? You hoped that you were reading this the right way, as you were more than willing to go with whatever it was that Steve was putting down.

“We’ll be expecting an immediate visit from you, then. I’ll let Miso know that she needs to start kneading a bread loaf for you as soon as possible. Any idea of what time you’re getting into D.C.?” 

“Probably late morning, but it really depends on when Natasha gets up.”

You had a moment where you realized that you were talking to a real life superhero, and he had just referenced his friend… who was also a superhero. You paused for a second. 

“Y/N? Hey, you still here?”

“Yeah! Yeah. I just zoned out for a sec. Well, you better get here safe or else someone is going to be very annoyed with you.”

Steve laughed softly across the line, and you adjusted yourself in bed, yawning softly.

“I’m sorry, I forgot how late it is over there,” Steve apologized.

“Don’t worry, I was up anyway. One of Miso’s boyfriends is pretty upset that he can’t come in here and spend the night with her.”

“Which one?”

“I think that grey one. I don’t really know what his voice sounds like, but she’s been leading him on lately,” you responded, eliciting a laugh from both you and Steve. 

“Try to get some sleep, okay? I don’t need you snoozing while I come to visit our girl.”

“You are something else, Steve Rogers,” you said fondly, adjusting your phone one last time as you hugged a pillow. “I’ll get to sleep. See you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow. Sweet dreams, Y/N.”

You hung up, and cuddled into your pillow with a sigh. Calling your dreams that night sweet was an understatement. 

——

You seemed to be Steve’s first stop after his mission, stopping at your door with his duffel bag still attached to his arm, and wearing a slightly dirty and much too small white t-shirt.

Expecting his presence, you quickly got the door and gave him a toothy grin. 

“It’s so good to see your face without a screen,” Steve commented. Internally, you swooned. 

“I could say the same for you, Steve.”

Miso had been summoned by the sound of Steve’s voice, practically sprinting to the door and meowing at him on the top of her lungs. 

“Miso really appreciates you coming here to see her first,” you added as he lifted her up and quietly cooed into her wrinkly head. “Feel free to take her for the next few days. I’m sure she’s getting tired of me.”

Steve shook his head at you, and grinned, “that’s so sweet of you,” he briefly looked down at his wristwatch, and his brows raised.

“Shit. I have to go, but I promise to see you soon. I’m glad to see that everything is well. Take care, Y/N,” Steve began making his way back to his own apartment, and you watched him with the semblance of a frown. 

You really needed to stop longing for the unobtainable. 

——

You hadn’t heard from Steve in a few days following his return, and your brief interaction with him. Part of you wondered if he was avoiding you for some  reason. 

Your phone lit up the room as it went off, and you grabbed it to look at the notification you received.

A picture of Steve grinning with Miso sitting on his chest looked back at you with a simple message connected to it.

Wanna come over? :D

[ackerfics]

slow dance with you — mikasa ackerman

— goth!mikasa ackerman x soft!female reader (modern au)

— warnings: slight mention of alcohol, pure rotten fluff

— summary:  after gaining some courage from the drinks she had in the party and from the advice she got from her friends, mikasa is ready to become your girlfriend.

— word count: 3.9k

— author’s notes: i would like to thank the anon who gave me some ideas for goth!mikasa, you are so amazing !! thank you for the small headcanons. and since we’re on the topic of writing abt goth!mikasa, i couldn’t help but pair her up with a classic soft girl who likes to wear pink at every time of the day. this dynamic is based on marceline and princess bubblegum so i hope you enjoy !!

p.s. the reader will have dyed hair here, if this is not your cup of tea, just let this fly by your dash.

listen to this while reading.

“She dyed her hair pink,” came a dazed yet mesmerized tone.

“You’re staring at her again.”

Mikasa jumped on her seat at Eren’s nonchalant observation. She whipped her head to her best friend, his attention directed on his laptop, hands flying across the keyboard as he typed out the next few words in his essay. Noticing the incredulous look the black-haired girl was shooting him, Eren rose an eyebrow before rolling his eyes. Mikasa huffed, crossing her eyes with a subtle hue of red on her cheeks, complimenting her dark lipstick. “I am not staring,” she mumbled. “Shut up, Eren.” She looked away from her subject of interest but continued shooting small glances.

Eren sighed, running his hand through his hair. He was always one of the witnesses of his best friend slash sister being meek around her crush. At first, he was teasing her because not going to lie, Mikasa’s crush is a pretty person but as their years in college made them juniors, Eren will be the reckless idiot that he is (courtesy of Armin) and set Mikasa up. But he liked to live his life out first — Mikasa will probably curse him with that spellbook she bought from the antique bookshop they encountered in their little exploration back when they were first-years. “Mikasa, why don’t you take the chance and confess to her? It’s not going to be the end of the world.”

“If she rejects me? What then?”

“Then that’s the next problem that you will have to face.” The brown-haired boy turned back to his essay. He stared at his laptop screen blankly before spewing out curses. “Now, I forgot what to write next! Damn it.” He picked up his iced coffee and drank from the metal straw as his life depended on it.

Mikasa rolled her eyes at her best friend’s first statement. “Gee, thanks for the advice. It was very much appreciated.”

“Glad to be of help.”

There was a thud on their table that made the two look up from their respective activities. Eren had a scowl on his face because for the nth time this day, he was interrupted from finishing his essay (for fuck’s sake, he doesn’t want to fail Ackerman’s class). Mikasa blinked from scrolling through her crush’s Twitter account (the last post she wrote was about how Levi Ackerman, Mikasa’s relative and everyone’s Anthropology professor) and fixed her attention on their blonde friend, Armin. He looked too bright after a round of morning classes, something that Eren doesn’t comprehend. The blue-eyed young man has always been the rational and genius third of their little group. There wasn’t a time where Armin’s advice got a situation to erupt in flames. It was either the situation became an inferno instead (Eren) or nobody had the guts to do it (Mikasa).

“Hey, guys!” Armin greeted, arranging his side of the table, meticulously placing each component of his lunch in front of him. “How were your morning classes?”

“Shit,” Eren spat out.

“Of course, it is.”

“They were alright,” Mikasa shrugged.

“Figured.” Armin glanced at his friend’s sides of the table, nodding at Mikasa’s balanced lunch while blankly staring at Eren’s laptop. The device should’ve been a good tray of lunch. “I thought you were eating lunch, Eren? That’s what you said in your text.”

“Can’t,” the brown-haired boy huffed. He gestured at his iced coffee without taking his eyes off the laptop. “I guess, this counts as my lunch.”

“When’s that essay due?”

“In about,” Eren looked at the time on his laptop, “three hours. Ackerman is my first period later. That fucking terror professor has no mercy when it comes to this. Can he just piss off for once? Mikasa, do you even tell him to get laid? Because I think that would solve his attitude. I swear to God, he’s getting more pissed every damn day.”

“Wow, I guess getting my short, grumpy, middle-aged uncle to start his sex life will be a nice conversation starter,” Mikasa drawled, half-lidded, bored eyes reading every tweet her crush has posted for the entire week. Mikasa couldn’t help but smile at one post about a new movie her crush just watched, saying that it was now a new favorite. She was tempted to give a heart on every single post but that would it weird because they never followed each other despite the small interactions they shared in between classes. With a sigh, she looked up, only to be met with Eren’s unamused stare. Raising an eyebrow, she asked, “What? Do you think that would work, Eren? Levi is probably a virgin his whole life and will continue his record until he’s all shriveled up.” Eren blanched at the image. “Just finish your homework and stop complaining.”

“I’m trying!”

“You’re not trying hard enough, that’s for sure. If you just started that essay the day he assigned it to your class, you would have finished it way before the deadline.”

Eren pointed at Mikasa with narrowed eyes. “Don’t even go there, Mikasa. I have a life aside from being a sleep-deprived college student.”

“I mean, she’s got a point, Eren.” Armin immediately rose his hands in defense when Eren shifted his glare from the black-haired young woman to him. “You always tend to procrastinate in the most impeccable timing that we sometimes have to remind you of your backlogs. And now, here you are, doing things last minute when you could’ve prevented the rush by doing it immediately.”

“Thanks for slapping the reality to my face, you two,” Eren dryly replied, going back to his essay for the final time. “And by the way, Armin, give Mikasa some solid advice that she will finally follow because she’s making googly eyes at Miss Pretty two tables from us a couple of minutes before you arrived. You know, the love of her life?”

Armin roamed his eyes in the lunch hall and sure enough, there was Mikasa’s goddess sitting with her group of friends. There was that brown-haired girl that was dubbed as the Potato Girl for eating mashed potatoes during Ackerman’s class (the professor told the class his rules of no eating or going out of the room while he’s discussing the moment the girl took a spoonful of her snack). A young man with a buzz cut snorting at what the brown-haired girl said. Armin remembered sharing a class with him. He never got the chance to introduce himself because the young man was sleeping throughout the lecture. There was usually a fourth person in the little group but it seems like he was running late or already in his class. That person was Eren’s sworn frenemy, the reason for that relationship was unknown to this day.

The three people at the table all stood up, the brown-haired girl and the taller young man leading the way. Armin instantly had an idea.

“Hey, [Name]!”

Mikasa nearly had whiplash from turning her head to Armin. “Armin?!” she hissed under her breath, face becoming hotter when you looked at their table, a bright smile lighting up your face. You called your friends, telling them to go on ahead without you, to which they nodded before walking towards the trio’s table. Her brain wasn’t processing the moment you lifted a hand to wave at whoever you were smiling at. Mikasa wished it was her. “Fuck,” she whispered, registering how cute you look. You donned a salmon pink plaid sundress and a white cardigan, matching with the bubblegum pink locks you let down. Her heart was hammering a thousand miles per second and there was no hope of stopping it.

“Hi, Armin,” you replied, stopping a few feet from Mikasa, who looked away from you to fix her wide-eyed stare on her empty plate.

“I was just going to ask if you already have a partner in our Molecular Biology lab?” The blue-eyed young man then turned to Mikasa and Eren. “I’m in the same class as her this year.”

“As if calling her here wasn’t that obvious,” Eren murmured, still typing out his essay.

“I don’t need your dry remarks right now, Eren, don’t want to ruin the atmosphere. So, [Name], you have a partner?”

You shook your head. “I think not. It would be great if we could be partners though. I need a break from the people I’ve been partnered with throughout college.”

He gave you a sympathetic smile. It was true, though. Most of the grouping during your first years of college were all set up by the teachers so the students really had no say on the matter at hand. Even Armin was exposed to a variety of students, most of them being too slacking to participate or too overbearing with their suggestions that they have no plans of doing. He nodded with a smile, “I’ll be sending an email to Professor Zoe about this and we’re done.” He glanced behind you, noticing that your two friends weren’t there anymore. “I’m sorry for holding you up. I’m pretty sure you have a class after lunch. See you around?”

You waved him off. “It’s fine, I told them to go ahead since Sasha has a class scheduled right after lunch and Connie had to nap in his dorm. And I don’t have any class the whole afternoon, except for an online session so yeah, see you around, Armin.” You acknowledge Eren with a nod, to which he responded with a cool expression (as if his mind wasn’t a mess from the cramming), and gave a soft smile to Mikasa, “Bye, Mikasa.” And you were off to your dorm, leaving behind two amused men and an awestruck Mikasa.

The black-haired young woman was hyperventilating the moment you disappeared from the lunch hall, hands clenched on top of her black shorts. She regretted wearing a thin, long-sleeved striped sweater under her black shirt because it was so fucking hot after that encounter. Her entire body was vibrating with too many emotions all at once, short-circuiting until she became a heap of flustered mess in front of her best friends. “Oh, my God,” she muttered like a prayer. She definitely needed one after seeing you all pretty in pink. It was too much for her soul because you two are a perfect match this time. Her grommet belt and choker were not helping because she couldn’t fucking breathe.

“Mikasa, breathe,” Armin reminded beside her. “Yeah, that’s it.”

Once she regained her composure, Mikasa realized she probably looked like a gaping fish. “Oh, my God! I’m so sure that this time, she thinks I’m weird. My name is the only one she mentioned aside from Armin which is saying something because she’s classmates with him. But why did she say goodbye to me? Oh, my God, she’s giving me so many butterflies right now.”

“Your gay is showing,” Eren pointed out calmly.

“Eren, not the time,” Armin murmured, hovering his hands over Mikasa’s back.

“Just wanted to alleviate the tense atmosphere. No need to get so worked up.”

“But, Mikasa, your feelings for her are showing.”

Eren clapped his hands, pointing a finger at Armin. “That, my friend, is a genius observation.”

Ignoring the green-eyed man, Armin continued, “I think it’s time you confess to her. Three years is a pretty long time pining for a person. In the end, her knowing your feelings will be inevitable. That is if you have no plans in letting her know.”

“Of course, I want her to know,” Mikasa murmured, fiddling with the sleeves of her striped long-sleeves.

“I heard that there’s a party this Saturday in Reiner’s frat,” Eren told them, meeting both of his friends’ eyes over the top of his laptop screen. “We’re in the same football team with Jean. The horseface is a friend of your girl,” he nodded at Mikasa, who erupted in a sputter of her crush not being her girl, “okay, not your girl — yet. As I was saying, [Name] is good friends with Jean and if Jean is there, Miss Pretty in Pink will be, too. That’s your chance to ask her out, Mikasa.” He met the blinking gray eyes of his best friend. “The question is, are you up for that?”

-

“You were staring at her so hard at lunch again.”

You looked up from your book to acknowledge Sasha entering your dorm room after a whole afternoon of packed lectures. The brown-haired young woman was so tired that she immediately plopped on top of her bed on the other side of the room. At first, you didn’t register what she said because you were preoccupied with your book. You chose to indulge the night in a good book because it has been a long time since you’ve done that. With furrowed eyebrows, you asked, “Can you repeat what you said, Sasha?”

Sasha tilted her head to look at you with one eye uncovered by her duvet. Her hair fluttered after puffing out a breath of disbelief. “Oh, don’t pretend that you have no idea, Miss Pretty in Pink.”

“That’s because I didn’t catch what you said,” you replied, gesturing at your novel. “And what’s with that Miss Pretty in Pink nickname? Did some of the students around campus started that?”

“Sort of,” Sasha hummed. She sat up from her bed and took out her phone from her backpack lying on the floor. You watched the whole time she stretched her arm without changing her position on her bed. With her phone in hand, she opened her Twitter account. “Actually, a friend of mine tweeted it, wait, I’m just going to scroll through my Likes tab to find her tweet. Oh, here it is.” Sasha showed you her screen, patiently waiting for you to take the device from her hand to get a closer look. Her hopeful smile turned into a small pout when you made no moves in doing so. “Take my phone and see for yourself.”

You sighed, following her pleas. “It’s probably just someone from the volleyball team. You know how some of them never stopped following me around campus. Can’t they take the hint that they’re not my type?”

“This person is much better than those himbo simps following you around. She’s an amazing person behind that shy exterior of hers.”

You only hummed, blankly staring at your roommate’s phone before your eyes widened in realization. Your eyes skimmed over and over again at the handle, mkackerman, beside the display picture of a short-haired girl in pigtails. It was the girl that managed to capture your attention during your first year at Eldia University. The girl with an air of mystique that the stars are jealous of. You always admired her from afar, appreciating her style each day. But your admiration was getting replaced with something more at the five words she tweeted. 

You’re so pretty in pink.

Roses bloomed in your cheeks, complimenting your pink hair the longer you gawked at her short post. 

“What?” you breathed out after a full minute of silence.

“Mm-hmm,” Sasha hummed with a smug smile. “And who dyed her hair pink impulsively last weekend?” She intentionally looked at you with sharp eyes, her smile turning into a smirk full of mischief. In actuality, Sasha knew of Mikasa’s crush on you since they were acquainted with each other. It was an embarrassing first meeting between the two, with Sasha latching on a random person’s arm in the station and it turned out to be Mikasa. The two became great friends after that, well, after Mikasa lowered her guard down, leaving her pocket knife safely tucked underneath her checkered skirt. It was Sasha who managed to make Mikasa confess of her undying love for you, the former squealing her heart out in the library. (They were kicked out after that.) 

“I don’t know,” you denied. “There could be a couple of people in the campus who thought that spontaneously dyeing their hair pink is an awesome idea.” You threw your hands in the air, giving back Sasha her phone right after.

“Trust me. Mikasa doesn’t have any interest in any other girl other than a special someone I know.”

You chose to ignore her, turning back on the discarded book on top of your covers. The words flew around your mind, aggravating you until you placed the novel on your lap. A defeated sigh came out of your lips. “Okay, let’s go out for some dinner.” You stretched, switching your pajama bottoms for a pair of loose jeans, and leaving your button-down pajama top on. The people in public will never know your top is a part of a pajama set. As you ducked down to roll the bottom of your jeans, you hear Sasha’s bed shuffling. Sitting up, you regarded her with an inquisitive raise of an eyebrow. “Spill it.”

“Oh, alright. Jean told me to bring you to a party.”

You stood up, patting your lap of imaginary dust, placing your things and book inside your tote bag. “Tell him no. I have a written exam coming up and I don’t want to fail one of my majors. He can manage without one person in our friendship group.”

Sasha huffed, mimicking your actions. “This will be the last time!”

“You said that the previous party you pulled me to.” You narrowed your eyes at her. “I couldn’t get up for a whole day because of that party. Don’t forget your wallet.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Sasha threw her wallet in her small bag, throwing the strap over her shoulder. “I promise that this will be the last time, I’ll even call Connie for the witness of my pact!” She placed a heartfelt palm over her chest, lifting her chin a little in the air. “I solemnly swear I am … keeping my promise.”

“You hesitated.”

The brown-haired girl giggled sheepishly, scratching the back of her neck. “It’s kind of hard not to continue the quote from Harry Potter. You can’t blame me for that!”

“I’ll think about it, okay?”

“You better because Mikasa will be there.”

You blinked at her statement. “What does this have to do with her?”

Your roommate looped her arm with yours, pulling you in the direction of the elevators. “Because,” it sounded like she was talking to a child, “you were staring at her earlier during lunch period. I understand that because Mikasa looks so good every second of the day but there was something different about the way you’re staring at her.” She tapped her finger on her chin. “Let me see, there’s some pizzaz there.”

“The pizzaz you’re talking about is me admiring her make-up — nothing more.”

“Whatever you say,” came Sasha’s sing-song voice. “I will be the first one who will say ‘I told you so’ to your face when you two start dating.”

-

The night of the party was not as bizarre as you thought.

Sure, there were people having shots in the living room but there weren’t any extreme scenarios lying around unlike some of the parties Connie and Jean went to. It was mostly catching up with old friends or making connections with strangers by ranting about the education system of your university. All in all, it was a fun night, yet here you are, holding your cup of beer with two hands as you craned your neck to get a glimpse of Sasha. Your roommate disappeared as you turned to get a shot, leaving a confused you behind. To think you specifically asked Sasha to be by your side throughout the night. You cursed in your head, you being reliant on the presence of others surfacing. Your stress made you tip your head back, downing your drink in a go.

Without anything to do, you leaned back on the wall. Mind hazy, eyes glassy, you searched the living room for a spunky brown-haired girl that you were supposed to be buddies with. Instead of Sasha, you met gazes with a girl with stars for her eyes. She was equally mesmerized as she was staring straight at you. Everything became silent as your heartbeat resonated with hers. She was beautiful in her all-black outfit — a leather pencil skirt over fishnet stockings, cropped tank top, and combat boots. The two of you are contrasting with one another; her lipstick so dark whilst yours shone a pretty coral, her hair framing her face in a midnight pixie cut whilst yours were in pink waves cascading down, her entire appearance blending in the background whilst you were a beacon with your coordinating soft outfit. 

God damn it, Sasha was right.

You are definitely falling in love with Mikasa Ackerman.

Mikasa who you saw reading tarot cards of her blonde friend. Mikasa who you bumped into during the opening ceremony two years ago. Mikasa who you discovered to have an affinity for electric guitars when you stumbled in one of the auditoriums, her department’s band having an audition. Mikasa who never meets your gaze because you make her nervous at how effortless you carry yourself. 

But tonight, she never looked away from you, her eyes having an adoring yet determined shine.

She stopped in front of you, mere inches separating you two. You looked up at her, her combat boots making her taller than she already is. You saw her eyes flick to your lips, your breath hitching at the thought of having her dark lipstick on any part of your body. With a careful tilt of her head, Mikasa ducked her head a little to fully meet your eyes face to face. “I saw you’re alone,” her voice is still soft-spoken as if she was afraid that she was scaring you. It might be because of the liquid and verbal courage she got from drinking and listening to her best friends because Mikasa had no plans of letting you go tonight. “I thought you needed company.”

A breath came out of your lips, your proximity making Mikasa feel it. “Uhm, if it’s you, I don’t see why not?”

A large smile brightened Mikasa’s face before it dimmed as she lowered her gaze to your lips once more. “I’ve been waiting three years for this.”

Maybe your mind was too hazy with alcohol or it could be because you accepted your feelings for the black-haired girl, so you whispered, lips brushing against hers in the most addicting way possible, “Just kiss me, Mikasa.”

Her lips softly moved against yours in a slow dance, the inches separating you disappearing as Mikasa wrapped an arm around your waist. You lift a hand to cup her jaw, tilting your head to deepen the kiss and to brush your tongue with hers. You felt her shiver, biting your lower lip to make you open up more, with your whimpers tingling her hearing. Mikasa pulled away, trailing firm kisses on the skin where your shoulder meets your neck. Seeing the black kiss mark on your skin, she smiled and placed fluttering kisses on your neck up to your cheek. Opening your eyes, the silver grays in front of you have never been so beautiful. You returned the favor of placing kiss marks. You stood on your tiptoes, feeling Mikasa’s hand steadying you, and left a coral pink mark on the corner of her mouth. 

Mikasa dipped her head, placing her lips close to your ear.

“I want to slow dance with you,” she sung to your ear. “I know all the other boys are tough and smooth and I got the blues. I want to slow dance with you.” Mikasa hid a small smile at your flustered expression. “So can I be your vampire queen, Bonnie?”

The moment you said yes, there was a shout in the crowds. “Hell yeah, your plan worked, Eren, Armin!”

You and Mikasa stared at each other with wide eyes before laughing. 

“Let’s go ditch this party.”

“Thought you’d never ask, Bonnie.”

[razorblade180]

Snowflake stuff

Weiss:Hey Summer, I got a call from a producer. They wanna know if you wanna be on a song.

Summer:*writing* You know I don’t do duets.

Weiss:It’s a feature. They only want you for the chorus.

Summer:….put them on speaker.

Weiss:Done.

Producer:Hello?

Summer:In five sentences or less, explain to me why I should feature and what the song is about? I’ll give you handicap. Don’t say it’s good publicity.

Weiss:(Oh boy…)

Producer:Umm well our artist is more alternative rap and while being good, the darker nature of their song lacks a soul to it. We haven’t heard you on a song of this genre yet but your voice has such range and presence that we really think you can captivate the listeners to play it on repeat. If you aren’t busy that is.

Summer:I’m a Schnee. We’re always busy. However….I guess my interest is peeked. Send my a section of his lyrics and the beat.

Producer:Ummm what about your section?

Summer:If you want people hooked on my voice then it has to be my lyrics. I can’t just make other people’s lyrics come to life. Not unless they’re remarkably talented. Is that a problem?

Producer:No ma’am. Thank you for your time. *hangs up*

Weiss:Wow. He already sent the file. I really made a monster huh? Try not to scare people on the phone.

Summer:I’m not a fan of features typically, but I like the concept which is why you bothered to ask me in the first place. *rests head* send it and I’ll listen to it while I nap. How long do I have?

Weiss:Two weeks. Try not to procrastinate.

Summer:You know artists. Inspiration is a fickle thing. *closes eyes*

[A week later]

Producer:Umm Mrs. Schnee? We’ve received no contact from Summer. Is she making progress?

Weiss:Truthfully…I couldn’t say. She’s constantly listening to the sample on loop and sleeps to it, so I know it’s on her mind. We still have a week.

[30 minutes before deadline, the booth]

Producer:WHERE-

Weiss:Don’t scream at me.

Producer:Where….is the chorus? Where’s your daughter in general? She’s refused calls, texts, emails; I bet she’d ignore a carrier pigeon!

Weiss:Sigh….*bows* I have no idea.

Producer:I was told Summer Schnee took singing seriously. As a producer and manager, I get the people we endorse are all a bit quirky in this industry but messing deadlines on other people’s songs-

Weiss:Disrespectful and reputation harming. I am the last person you have to preach that to, or did you forget I used to be a “quirky” person that was endorsed?

Producer:All the more reason why I’m shocked. If Summer has writers block or isn’t up for the task-

The door opens and Summer walks in, dark rings under her eyes and headphones on. Despite the abrupt entrance and clear fatigue, Summer silently walked inside the booth with grace after queuing up her section of the song.

🎶I don’t know where to begin.

Anger keeps fueling my sin; controls me deep from within.

But still won’t let me drown~

I’d wipe the slate to stop the pain. These fucked up thoughts inside my brain won’t fade.

I might never find my way, but we’ll make the world bleed gray…🎶

Producer:…..

Summer:*removes headphones* Do you need another go at it?

Producer:N…No that can work. That’s…wow.

Summer:*smiles* I wish your artist luck on the project. And please…next time my people will call you if I can’t do something. More than half of yours go right to spam. *leaving* Let’s go mom.

Weiss:Hold on a- sigh. I’m sorry about her. Good luck. *leaves* Summer!

Summer:Hmmm?

Weiss:Why did you make this such a hassle!? Where did you go!?

Summer:Oh I didn’t want them complaining and having me come to the booth repeatedly or experimenting, so I ran the clock down. I also asked Oscar if it would be a good idea to use thoughts from a journal as lyrics.

Weiss:That chorus came from your therapy journal?

Summer:Why are you surprised? Half of your best songs are ranting about your father. We do our best work when we’re frustrated.

Weiss:…..I can’t deny that. Let me know next time at least. I’m still your manager you know? I have half a mind to work with a more agreeable talent.

Summer:Pfft, I know you’re joking, but who would ever truly rival me?

Weiss*grabs phone* Hey Nick do you want-

Summer:*grabs phone* Wrong number! *hangs up* I will keep you in the loop next time. This is our thing.

Weiss:That’s my girl. *hugs her*

Summer:Hmmm🎶

xxxx

Nick…..

Nick:Summer is stealing mom’s affection. I must correct this. *grabs guitar*

Jaune:Stop being petty.

Nick:*strums once* No~🎶

Jaune:Just steal all my affection.

Nick:Okay! Let’s go to the movies!

xxxx

Summer:( I gotta hangout with dad before Nick wins.)

Weiss:…(I hope my two lovely men are enjoying time together.)

[so-small]

Connor Murphy x Reader: Dear Other Hansen: Part 1

words: 1,643

warnings: fight, slight harassment by a pervy football player

It was the first day of your senior year and your mom was giving the same speech to you and Evan that she gave every year. Growing up twins you shared everything: your anxiety, your interest in nature, your love-hate relationship with Jared, and your clear disdain for this speech. 'This year would be different, it's a new start- a clean slate. She's so proud of you already.'

"Oh and Evan, (Y/N)? I made you an appointment with for today, I'll come buy and pick you guys up after school. Make sure you guys have letters to yourself, the doctor expects you to have some." 

"We have an appointment for next week though, mom?" Evan questioned, worried that he overestimated the amount of time he could put off writing his letter.

"I thought you could use something a little sooner. I love you guys! Have a good first day, and remember if you guys need anything at all, call me. Bye," with that she was out the door.

Evan looked to you, and then down at his hands. "(Y/N), I still haven't written anything..."

"I know," you sighed, running your hands through your hair, "I haven't either. We were supposed to have another week." Procrastination. That was another trait you shared. You were well aware that it would only make the task at hand more daunting, but sometimes it was just more convenient to watch TV than do work.

"And we still have to take the bus. It's our senior year, and we're the only seniors who still have to ride the bus. Everyone is going to think we're losers."

"...What if we just walk?" You suggested, to which Evan responded to by nodding vigorously. You grabbed your stuff and the two of you began walking.

It was warm outside, but cloudy. Evan and you were talking about the normal stuff. He was talking about working at the park, and you were talking about hanging out with Zoe- another thing you had in common- who you had befriended one day at the mall at the beginning of the summer. You had been at American Eagle, trying to find the perfect outfit to boost your confidence. Zoe had seen you, said hi, and proceeded to help choose the cutest outfit you had ever seen. Ever since then, Zoe and you were good friends. Evan always loved hearing you talk about her, because he felt like he knew her better when you did. 

Finally, you arrived at school. Evan walked over to talk with Alana and then Jared, trying aimlessly to get them to sign his cast. Zoe had came over to you as soon as she saw you arrive to school, upset about the morning she had "-and then he finished the milk! Dry cereal was not how I wanted to start my first day back."

"Maybe he's just on his man period?" You didn't want to admit it, but Connor always intrigued you. He never looked like he was the same guy who Zoe complained about, or the rumors that spread across the school. He just looked out-of-place, which is how you felt most of the time. He didn’t look like he could be that much of a dick. Back in grade school, you had been in bed with the flu when Connor presumably threw a printer. After hearing little Evan cry for three hours after school about it- not because he was scared or even angry- because the teacher was printing out a coloring page for him, and he never got it. 

"Then he would have been menstruating since he was twelve-" Zoe was interrupted by hearing Connor yelling. She turned the corner to see him screaming at Evan and Jared scurrying off. "Oh no."

"Why are you laughing? Stop fucking laughing! I'm not the freak! You're the fucking freak!" Connor pushed Evan down and ran off sulking.

Zoe and you rushed over to Evan to make sure he was okay. You'd talked to her enough about Evan for her to know that he wasn't going to take this well. You were freaking out, both worried about Evan and horrified that he had already been pushed on the first day. The bell rung and Zoe went her separate way, while Evan rambled on, "-and then she introduced herself to me! Did you see that? It was so magical. Well, it would have been if I hadn't screwed it up."

"You'll be okay Evan. She's a sweet girl, she's not going to judge you. Especially since Connor was involved. What class do you have?"

"Stats, what about you?"

"English, see you at lunch or something?" You hugged Evan as tight as you could headed to class.

---

When you arrived to class, you took a seat in the back corner, relieved that you were in your favorite teacher’s class this year. Mr. Sinclair was half way done with the syllabus when Connor Murphy walked in. He walked to the back of the class room, but there were only two seats left. One by the captain of the football team, Derek, and the other next to you. He choose to sit next to you.

Not long after Mr. Sinclair was done with the syllabus, he announced that there would be a group project. “Your partners will be your table buddies. You will choose a book, and make a project on it. I emailed the requirements, but keep in mind that the books need to be appropriate. Derek you can join whatever group you.”  Mr. Sinclair then let everyone start working on the project. You were sitting with your hands cupped on the desk, staring down at them. You didn't know what to do. Sure, you'd seen Connor around at the Murphy's house, but he never really said anything more than the greetings his mom forced him to say. Other than that, all you knew about him were the rumors, what Zoe said about him, and that he'd hurt Evan earlier that day.

"(Y/N), right?" A voice snapped you out of your thoughts. You nodded, recognizing it as Connor's voice. "You're related to the kid with the cast and the polo?"

"-Evan, he's my twin." You didn't know why he was asking this. You’d been in the same grade level and classes as Connor since kindergarten, and even if you never personally spoke to Connor, you were sure he already knew these things.

"So you're going to go ask if we can just separate projects," You couldn't tell if this was a question or a command. "I mean, you're brother thinks I'm a freak, so why would you want to do a project with me."

"Evan does not think that, I promise."

Connor's voice got louder, "Yeah? Then why was he fucking laughing at me with Kleinman earlier?"

Your heart began race, and you began stuttering. Your face must have shown traces of anxiety because Connor's angry gaze softened slightly. He reached his hand toward your hand, but he was blocked by a figure.

“What do you think you’re doing, Murphy?” 

“Go away Derek.” The same amount Connor’s eye softened at the sight of your anxiety, they hardened when he saw Derek. 

“Were you going to hurt her?”

“Go. Away. Derek.”

“No can do. I’ve decided to be (Y/N)’s partner.” Derek slung his arm around your shoulders as you stiffened.

Connor was visibly getting more annoyed by the minute, “That would mean that your my partner too, go find a different set of partners.”

“Babycakes wants me here.” A smirk spread across his face. You were growing more uncomfortable, and were silenced by shock and disgust.  “No, she doesn’t. Neither do I, so don’t make me-”

“Make you do what? I’ve already decided. (Y/N), call me when you want to meet up for the project, sweetie.” Your face grew ten shades of red as you involuntarily grabbed onto Connor’s arm and scooted closer to him. Connor took one look at your shaky, nervous frame and lunged into action.

Connor drove his fist into Derek’s face, and Derek did the same. It was a blur as you gaped at the two men fighting, feeling a panic attack coming on, and before you knew it they were being pulled apart by Mr. Sinclair and two other teachers who had been called in. The teachers escorted Connor and Derek to the office. Mr. Sinclair pulled you outside the classroom and sat with you until your panic died down, “Are you okay, Ms. Hansen?” You nodded. “Did Mr. Murphy hurt you?” 

It took a moment to process what he said. “Connor didn’t do anything, Mr. Sinclair. Derek was making some,” you sighed, “comments about me that made me feel creeped out. I think Connor saw I was uncomfortable and tried to defend me.” 

Mr. Sinclair pinched the bridge of his nose. “Ms. Hansen, if what your saying is true, we need to get you down to the office so they don’t blame this on Connor.” Mr. Sinclair took you to the office just as the principal was getting ready to suspend Connor and release Derek. Mr. Sinclair reiterated what you had told him, and you confirmed it. Derek protested, trying to say that you were making it up.

“Very well,” the principal raised his hand to stop Derek, “Ms. Hansen has never given me any reason to not believe her. That, and last year three students came forward about you, Derek. I’m afraid I have no choice but to suspend you for a week and put you on probation from football until further notice. Connor, I’m going to let you off with a warning, and send you home for the rest of the day. Tomorrow, I will trust that you will not do this again, or you will be suspended.” Connor shook his head, and left without another word. 

---

A/N- I’m not sure how long this series is going to be, but we’ll see. 

[notbang]

thoughts of you subside, then i get another letter

[Facebook Messenger window: Nathaniel

   THUR 12:07

hey!

are you there?

   12:13

the little green light is on next to your name that supposedly means you’re online so I kind of feel like gatsby right now jsyk

…that may have been a little dramatic

definitely feeling like this is some kind of glitch because I know you think social media is a productivity suck and it’s the middle of the work day so the chances of you not being knee deep in the environmental law equivalent of guatemalan jungle mud right now are slim to none

but I’m bored and restless and kind of having a shitty day (phone call with the mother this morning… ugh… enough said) so if it’s all the same to you I’m just going to continue to send my thoughts out into the internet ether where you’ll probably never see them

   12:32

https://www.buzzfeed.com/25-times-red-pandas-were-relatable-af

what are your thoughts on red pandas? I love their bushy tails and how they’re kind of like little red raccoons??

okay so I just googled guatemalan wildlife and here are some animals I think you should consider wrestling when you get bored of your monkeys:

a quetzal - national bird of guatemala, could possibly get you thrown in jail? also endangered. maybe don’t wrestle so much as gently tussle

an armadillo - they’re armoured and weird and cartoons lead me to believe they roll up into balls? please confirm

VAMPIRE BATS - self explanatory

an ocelot - looks like a house cat but will rip you to shreds. a comical misdirect

a toucan - why are their beaks so big? just feel like it would be funny idk

a FREAKING BASILISK - oh my god BASILISKS ARE REAL???? I don’t know what to do with this information. fuck.

   12:48

still reeling about the basilisk agenda

anyway I’m supposed to be writing but I just keep scrolling and I know I should just close my browser but I CAN’T because writing is the worst it’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done

remember when I told you breaking up with you was the hardest thing I’ve ever done? WRONG that was a walk in the park my friend

(sorry to rehash old wounds)

   12:59

I know I owe you a letter btw but in case I haven’t made it clear writing is currently my mortal enemy and I am currently only capable of charming streams of consciousness

wonder if I could harness that somehow. I could be, like, the virginia woolf of songwriting.

morbid thought: your little icon thing-y at the top of the window kind of makes me feel like I’m having a one sided conversation with your portrait at your wake

I don’t know why I said that wow that’s such a weird creepy thing to say??

but also I stand by it

nathaniel plimpton iii: mauled by monkeys. may he rest in peace

(I know we’ve covered this but please don’t die)

you’d think I would have learned my lesson joking about that since the last time but turns out I decidedly have Not

   13:07

I love how I don’t even need you here for this conversation, really, because I already know exactly what you’d say. something about my pervasive inability to focus on work, probably

you’d be wrong, though - the reason I felt so free to focus on other things was that practicing law was easy. I could argue municipal code in my sleep! but writing songs? god, you have no idea. you’re lucky you don’t have a creative bone in your objectively aesthetically pleasing body because being creative is the fucking worst

it’s just occurred to me that perhaps you’re ignoring me because of the aforementioned letter-owing

and in response to that I’d say: who’s keeping tabs, really? should friendship be about keeping score?

so I just checked and it has been literal months since you wrote me and since the last time we went this long without corresponding it turned out you’d been in hospital recovering from a monkey mauling, I want to make it clear that I’m not in hospital, I’m just terrible

I’ve been working hard at being a more reliable friend lately but turns out that’s easier when it mostly consists of responding to impromptu facetimes with your friends that have moved to different law firms and cities and states and not so much the physical act of handwriting to words to your ex boss slash boyfriend that moved to a different country.

we draw the line at political borders, apparently!

this electronic word vomit DOES have me considering the merits of switching to email, but I’m also really attached to how romantic the act of letter writing is?? Who needs immediacy, really

to be clear, I mean romantic in the byronesque, whimsical idealism sense of the word. I’m not, like, coming on to you via Facebook messenger.

hahahahaha because that would be so wired right

*weird

yeah.

   13:22

anyway speaking of weird I’ve had my notebook open on the table next to me for well over an hour now and yet somehow this song hasn’t written itself which is basically a hate crime at this point

do you think in the future they’ll have some kind of technology that can extract images from your mind and adequately express them on the page for you? elon musk and his waifish canadian baby mama should get onto that

because these songs are always so clear in my head - we’re talking costumes, set pieces, montages - and the second the pen is in my hand it’s like crickets chirping

🦗🦗🦗

what would you say is the natural soundscape of guatemala btw? are there bug noises? I always imagine it with bug noises

   13:39

do you need bug spray? I could send you bug spray

   13:52

it has since occurred to me they probably have bug spray in guatemala which is probably for the best because they’re always weird about mailing aerosols since they might explode or something

hey. if your sabbatical had a theme song, what do you think it would be? right now I’m picturing a duran duran - hungry like the wolf kind of deal but you’re like… hungry for new opportunities or something

how do you feel about dressing like indiana jones?

idk I’ll workshop it and get back to you

anyway time to actually focus on my song writing so… sayonara I guess. or, as one might say in guatemala:

nos vemos 💩

   16:37

ok ok ok so I maaaay have just googled 'elon musk mind reading’ instead of song writing and that maaaay have lead me down a terrifying two hour long rabbit hole where I learned way more about the future of technology than I care for bUT BUT

https://www.thecorset.com/article/4372-elon-musk-grimes-rococo-basilisk

thanks, baader meinhof phenomenon. basilisk agenda CONFIRMED.

okay, actually signing off now but for realz. I’ve abandoned any delusion of you ever actually reading this which is probably for the best at this point but thanks for inadvertently keeping me company in my procrastination 💕 - strongly slash apologetically worded letter to follow.

maybe. hopefully. if I ever actually remember how to write.

bunch out!

💩]

[theliterarywolf]

Is that a reference to internet drama or did someone skip town on you?

So, as some people know, I’ve been trying to go it along and finally self-publish something. While I could have done this before, last year I had an interested... don’t want to say ‘investor’ since that would make the project sound bigger than it already is, but they are helping me with a bit of the funding for this, actually approach me to say ‘hey, let’s make this happen’.

So I managed to get a draft done and, of course, since this is something I’m putting out there for people to buy, I want a second-set of eyes to proofread and edit for me. 

And, let it be known, this wasn’t a case of ‘oh, you’re not doing anything; READ THIS’. The person helping me made sure to say that the person who filled this position would be paid. 

Eventually we did find someone and it was like ‘Okay, cool; this is really happening’. 

And then they started procrastinating. Then they would say ‘oh, something came up but I’ll get right to it ASAP’. It got to the point that the person helping me was getting pissed because they had paid this other person for a service that they weren’t providing. And I’m just here in the middle like ‘So, is this still happening or what?’

And, eventually, this person we had paid and hired to proofread and edit this thing... Just stops answering us. When my not-quite investor physically tried driving to their address, they weren’t there. They won’t answer texts, they blocked both of us on social media, and they’re either deleting or just ignoring any emails we send them.

So now I have to get the money to find a new proofreader/editor because I’m not going to be an asshole and ask my not-quite investor to fork over more money and risk getting screwed over again.

Tl;Dr: Someone skipped town on me after being paid for a service they didn’t provide, fucking over an already chaotic release-schedule for a project I’m working on. 

[revisionaryhistory]

Three Days ~ 60

~*~Emma~*~

I was awakened a half hour before my alarm. Mallory texted to let me know the map with next year’s room assignments was posted on the school's Google classroom. I walked across the room to get my laptop and brought it back to bed. I wanted to see the whole map on one screen. First grade had been moved where fifth grade was. Made sense. We would be in a hall off the main one. It made the walk to lunch and specials less for the little legs, but then it was isolated enough for them not to be distracted by hall traffic. Mallory and I were swapping rooms. Perfect.

I checked work and personal email. Nothing pressing except one in my personal from an official looking email address. I had a feeling I knew what this was. Nice letterhead. Very polite email asking me to go to a link and sign the document at my earliest convenience. My Non-Disclosure Agreement. I skimmed through the first mumbo jumbo legal stuff defining the parties. The only specific studio mentioned was Disney, but it covered all projects. The mouse does not play. Gag rule on projects. I’m not allowed to reveal any info about projects or post pictures of anything project related. The personnel stuff was less specific, with the exception of no sexual/nudity pictures or explicit details. I couldn't sell or allow profit to be made from personal relationship information without the written approval of both parties. That rules out writing a book, giving interviews, and anything online that monetizes clicks. The NDA went both ways. Neither could sell the other out. The last paragraph was fines and term limits. Whatever. Sebastian had already signed it and I could almost feel his annoyance from the act. I signed, filled out the requested information, and hit "complete document."

I wonder if I should feel some way about signing? I don't. Well, a perverse thrill at being considered potentially dangerous to him. More to Disney. It's a bizarre relationship validation.

It started today. I double checked. Nothing about prior to date signed. Up until last night wasn’t included. Probably should have been. Not any more so than since we met, but it made me laugh. The intimacy of our conversations continues to intrigue me. I talk to him like I do Angie, Eli, and a few other close friends. It’s unique, but I have limited experience. That's not true. I've dated several men longer than Sebastian and I have known each other. We didn't talk like this. I didn't feel like this. The one-month mark is usually my timeline for deciding if there's something worth continuing. Sebastian is a hybrid. We talk as easily and as quickly as Angie and I did. Then there's the sex. Thinking about sex with him never fails to bring a smile to my face. Lover and friend. New, but none the less.

The FaceTime notification on my laptop startled me. I connected. "How did you know I was thinking about you?"

Sebastian's face lit up with a smile, "I didn’t, but I'm glad to hear you were thinking about me. I was afraid I'd wake you, but I needed to talk to you before nine."

I glanced at the time. Eight fifty. "Just under the wire. What's up?"

"Fuck, I want to vomit. Last week when I met with Emily, we had some conference calls. Like I'd told you, they got on me because you weren't under an NDA."

I interrupted to tell him it was done. "Sebas..."

He cut me off, “Please, let me get through this."

Umm, he's a little stubborn. I closed my mouth.

"I made them change a couple of things I wasn’t alright with. I've been procrastinating sending it to you. I can't believe how cavalier or willfully ignorant I've been before. No wonder I didn't want to be involved. It feels horrible. At least before it was both of us." He rolled his eyes and waved his hand from side to side, "Relationships, not the random hookups. This isn't you. It isn't us. Emily woke me up to tell me Disney was giving me until nine before they contacted you." He pinched his thumb and forefinger together. "I'm this close to fucking losing it. Insecure and scared to death you're going to read it and feel as slimy as I do and never talk to me again." He ran his hands through his hair and shook his head. "That's the last thing I want. I can't..."

I interrupted him. Louder and more firmly this time. If I'd known he was going in this direction I would have pushed it the first time. I wasn't going to let him work himself up any more. "Sebastian!" My raised voice pulled his focus to me. "I signed and sent it back ten minutes ago."

His face went from sad to angry in a split second, "Ten minutes ago. When did they fucking send that to you?"

"Email says eight thirty-five."

"Mother fuckers! I didn't want you blindsided. Eight thirty-five isn't fucking nine o’clock."

He was spinning off in another direction now. His anger and protectiveness is a little hot. I thought I should stop this spiral too. I shrugged, "Apparently, mice can't tell time."

Sebastian looked at me like I'd lost my mind, his eyes darting around trying to make sense of my words. When he caught up, his laughter was the same intensity as his anger. "Mice can't tell time." He dropped his forehead to his arm.

I softened my voice and spoke quietly, "Bastian, I'm not going anywhere."

He didn't lift his head so his voice was muffled, "I don’t know if it’s what you said or the southern accent you've got right now, but I can't breathe." He looked up, "In a good way."

"Good. " I liked this face better. "What did you make them change?"

"There were restrictions on social media. I had to approve what you posted."

I lifted an eyebrow.

He smiled, "Not happening and not sure how you'd ever prove that one. They wanted to backdate it to when we met. I said no. We've been getting to know each other not reading the non-existent Falcon and to Winter Soldier script.” His sigh and half-smile made him seem very young. "I know it's not much, but it’s about trust. Your social media is yours and these last three and a half weeks are ours. I trust you with both."

"It’s a lot, Bastian. You did good. You protected us. It’s a lot."

The half-smile grew until it reached his eyes, "You're important."

"I can tell."

"Good." He shook his head the slightest bit. "Thursday cannot get here fast enough.” His bottom lip came out, “I have to go."

"I have to shower before mom yells at me."

"Can't have that. I'll talk to you later."

"Have a good day." I blew him a kiss.

I needed to translate a couple of words into Romanian. Three words.

Oh look, it's only two words in Romanian.

[lovevalley45]

anyways here’s a not-so-short fucking tutorial on how to download fics from ao3 to ur kindle (not that official):

1) go into ur kindle’s settings and find its email address. i have a kindle paperwhite bc i just like to Read Books and it also has a long battery life. so for me it was the very first thing on the settings menu, then the email is down at the bottom. you can also go online which is easier because you need to be on the page for amazon devices for a future step but i had my kindle right there. 

2) try everything u read online and wonder why it wasn’t working until u read another article that mentions a specific email approval list

3) go to the preferences tab on the ‘your devices’ page on amazon. you’re going to scroll until you see something mentioning the ‘send-to-Kindle’ email. this is the same tab the actual email address is under if u decided to do it online. under that, though, is the ‘approved personal document email list’. THIS IS VERY IMPORTANT! if ur email isn’t on this list ur kindle WILL give u the big middle finger when u do the next few steps. u gotta put the email you’ll be using to send fics from on this list man

4) go to AO3. pull up that completed avalance slowburn that u procrastinate on going back and rereading bc it is 36 chapters n u can never remember where u left off so u reread the first five chapters fifteen times.

5) at the top of the fic, up with the tabs for ‘mark for later’ and ‘chapters’ there is the ‘download’ button on the far right. click on it

6) you need to download it as a MOBI file. a pdf can work but mobi files are better formatted. if u really want to upload one of ur pdfs as a book on ur kindle, i’ll go over that soon. wait a minute damn. 

7) pull up whatever email application u use and start a new email

8) i hope u saved that address for ur kindle cuz this is where u use it. type that baby in and attach the file for the fic. u don’t have to fill in the subject or body, UNLESS you want to be able to read a pdf like an ebook. if u want to do this, you have to write ‘convert’ in the subject. i haven’t tested this but they say it fucks up the format so try it if u want

9) probably wait a good minute or two after u sent it to check ur kindle. it isn’t automatic. but if u followed all the steps, congrats! u can now read fanfic more covertly. 

enjoy yourselves, y’all

(here’s an article that probably explains it more concisely, but y’all don’t come here concise. still.)

[rusalkii]

It was Friday when I started this so it still counts, I guess.

From last time:

- Did financial things, did shopping/laundry etc, fooled around with HackerRank long enough that probably counts, yay me I guess. 

- Procrastinated sending the damn email. Procrastinated it more. Left it until today in the hope that admitting my shame to other people would motivate me to do it. Procrastinated writing this post instead of writing the email. Ugh. 

TODO tomorrow morning once I am fully awake: open original email. open paperwork. fill out paperwork 1. fill out paperwork 2. draft email with apologies for putting it off for TWO FUCKING MONTHS. obsess over the phrasing of it for no more than 10 minutes. send the email.

- Did not contact the other interview person because I forgot.

TODO: Adding this to my list for tomorrow in the place I actually check regularly.

In general, had a very lazy week, which I mostly planned for. Spent more time reading fanfic/playing stupid phone games/etc than ideal, but this was not supposed to be a Responsibilities week. Did not go dancing, but did go climbing and was going to go hiking until we looked at the humidity. I’ll (hopefully!) go dancing tomorrow and backpacking Monday-Tuesday. Failed to deal with LW meetup things like a decent human being. I think I’m developing an ugh field around organizing for it, which is Not Ideal. Did clean my soles (god they needed it). Saw my Shire and started my veil/scarf thing, finally. SCA people are so good. Being around them always leaves me wanting to make things. (No, I should not buy wool for a cloak without getting to touch it, even if it is $12/yard.)

Food things have not been ideal - might be generic appetite issues, might be lack of variety, might be lack of protein/some other nutrient? Generally have been much pickier than I tend to be, have had a lot of “nothing looks good” moments. For some reason keep craving my very specific Sweetgreens order I occasionally had for lunch at work? This could be either protein or literally any of the vegetables in it, or just a salience thing. Should try for at least slightly more protein, for a first pass - more nuts, peanut butter, maybe get myself pilmeni but that feels like cheating. I guess I could in fact get the Sweetgreens thing sometimes but that’s like 10% of what the three of us spend on groceries for a single meal and that’s kind of ridiculous and doesn’t actually feel worth $12. Should weight myself, if I drop below 100 that’s in Actually A Problem territory. Something to keep an eye on even though I’m not particularly inclined to worry unless it doesn’t change once I’m on an unlimited meal plan with enough variety and also shrimp.

Next week:

- Call TsL!

- ....book club. Please.

- Moving back to dorm logistics/most of actual packing. If you need anything from parents know this by the end of the weekend.

- Other prep for school as needed. (Textbooks, etc).

- General vague goal to be much more of an actual human doing actual human things. They don’t have to be productive things, you are totally allowed to read more studies on Tasmanian Devil cancers or something, but a lot less of the deaful lounging around under a blanket reading glowfic, please.

Good things but not necessary: Once again, dance; there’s a ballroom thing tomorrow evening. Getting yarn for a new crochet project would be good (maybe pick up what I have at home and start something, it’s not like I would mind another shawl), likewise warping my cards for something new. Plushki! Ordering a bag before school starts. Make my dad fix my sewing machine, which he broke, so I can finally finish the seam on that dress because I am not doing that by hand.

Meta notes: Took ~30 minutes. Reminder I had set for 4pm failed to go off, should fix that. Not sure what level of granularity I’m using here - this one is a bit more zoomed out, not putting in things like laundry, specifics of packing, etc. Those should be worked out in daily lists.

[dashielldeveron]

A Prologue in Venom

Part One of the Viper AU: a Mob!Tom Holland AU in which you are a political author, Tom’s personal lawyer, and eventually his consigliere. 

Warnings: violence, swears, the law.

Summary: an introduction to the ongoing AU of you working for the mob tirelessly out of your innate sense of justice and thirst for the mob boss. You have an incredible mentor who is pushing you down a path of crime in order to do the right thing. Your mentor forgot 1) to mention that your new employer is so fucking charismatic and 2) that you’re a dramatic little bitch.

From: Tracey Prine To: epiales@epiales.com Subject: article attached

Thought you might want to see this. You’ve made the papers for your real job for once, although your name still isn’t mentioned—but I expect you enjoy that. It’s all over the news stations, and NPR is currently airing the story. Congratulations. There’s a nice quotation from Polson near the bottom that you’ll get a kick out of.

Additionally, I’m going to need your piece on the refugee crisis within twelve hours if it’s going to be published this week.

Thanks, t.

[attachment]

FALSELY ACCUSED, JULIA LAURENS ACQUITTED

In the late afternoon of October 17, the protracted trial of Julia Laurens came to a sudden end in light of new evidence. Laurens, on trial for the murder of Moira Herrington, daughter of celebrated actors Jay and Melissa Herrington, walks as an innocent woman this morning.

As Moira’s violin teacher, Laurens would have had access to the Herrington residence during lessons on Mondays, but, it turns out, she was not the only one. It seemed like an open-and-shut case when Moira’s body, dismembered, was found in various black bags in Laurens’s garbage bins, along with the ice pick used to gouge out Moira’s eyes under the seat in Laurens’s vehicle on the day Laurens was stopped on the route from the Herrington residence. Laurens had said that she had driven to the lesson without being able to find Moira and was returning home, but the body had already been discovered.

However, as the defence exposed, all supposed evidence was a plant by perpetrator Johnson Mays, a colleague of Laurens who had a secret, unhealthy obsession with the underage Moira. Mays, a mechanic, had attended the weekly game night at Laurens’s apartment on Sunday and had sabotaged Laurens’s car and planted an ice pick similar to the one used. With this setup, Mays would have time to commit the murder during the scheduled violin lesson, while Laurens would have to attend to her car.

You kicked your feet up on the coffee table and flicked through the article. Fucking yes. You’d made national news for being a lawyer, for once. You were the one who’d done the intricate research to discover Mays’s connections, and when Dr. Prine gave you leave, you had driven upstate to investigate Mays’s house under warrant, posing as a general lackey. You had felt the need to see his place with your own eyes, and you had struck gold: not only had you found the real ice pick in his wood pile, but you had found one of Moira’s contacts stuck to the back of his freezer. Her fucking contact. When the lab reports came back, complete with the drop of blood on the ice pick matching Moira’s, you forwarded everything to Dr. Prine, and she sent it to her attorney acting defence in the trial. Mays wasn’t even a player in the game before you, and now the rightful murderer was going to jail. An innocent woman walks free because of you.

Justice felt fantastic. Your work being in the national headlines felt a little better.

You scanned the rest of the article until you reached the quotation Dr. Prine had told you about.

…Out of the clamouring press following the trial, only this was squeezed from a fuming Prosecutor James Polson: “I [redacted] had them. Whoever dug up the dirt on Mays, they’re a [redacted] viper, sinking their fangs into the status quo and letting their venom spread.”

Grinning, you took another bite of Ben and Jerry’s, straight out of the carton. Dr. Prine was right. You were going to have to find a hard copy of the Times so that you could post this on your bedroom wall. You had to bite your lip you were smiling so hard.

You set your ice cream on the coffee table and lay back on the couch to compose a response to Dr. Prine, but you called her instead. As your phone rang, you kicked back and stared at the ceiling fan, its pull making small circles as the blades spun.

“Dr. Prine,” you said when she picked up, “Holy fuck! Holy fuck!”

“Congratulations,” she said, her smile coming through over the phone, “I’m proud of you. You did some really solid work.”

“I didn’t think this would happen! I saved someone’s life! Julia Laurens can go to fucking Hobby Lobby, and no one will accost her. It’s my fault, and she doesn’t even know me,” you said, sitting up to grab your ice cream again.

“Isn’t that what you wanted?”

“Well, yeah,” you said thickly through a chunk of frozen brownie, “It is. I wish I could tell my mother, though, but it’s not that big of a deal.”

“Is she still doing all right?”

You swallowed, choking a bit to get it down. “Yeah. How’s work for you?”

“The freshman students write the worst papers I’ve ever seen,” said Dr. Prine with a clattering in the background, “Damn, I just—hold on. Dropped the binders.” A door creaked shut on her end, and Dr. Prine spoke more loudly after. “I miss your work. It was nice grading it, since I didn’t have to mark it up much. These kids can’t even handle a mock trial yet. I worry for your generation.”

“Don’t worry. We’re all just tired,” you said, “Speaking of my work, I’ve almost finished the refugee piece. Once I get a solid closing statement, I’ll send it your way.”

“Well, don’t procrastinate. Your deadline’s soon. You got anything lined up this evening?”

Scrunching your eyes shut, you winced. “Don’t remind me. Polson’s got me doing menial work again. Something totally useless with spreadsheets and the expenses of the fucking break room and secretarial offices. If he knew what I was capable of—”

“If he knew you worked against him in the Laurens trial? I know,” said Dr. Prine, her voice softening, “I’ve been meaning to tell you something. It’s your ticket out of Polson’s firm. I’ve found a place where your talents would be…much more appreciated. You could start within the week.”

“Say more right now.”

***

2,132.

2,132 rejections via mass email, starting in your second year of law school. All from different firms that didn’t want you. Rounds upon rounds of interviews, competing with your friends and total strangers who held themselves like they were Croesus, reaching the final interview, only to get rejection emails three days later from firms you would have quite literally killed people to work for. Years of working for and studying under Dr. Prine, editing her national law journal, diligently dotting the is of her excruciating cases late into the night. Getting a taste of the allure of wealth and entrenched power, and never having it want you outside of the knowledge that you were her student. All of it—from the cases you and she never could crack and stood outside in the rain pulling your hair out over, to the parts of your life you missed out on, like your best friend’s wedding and your mother’s last birthday before you started growing apart—leading up to this: walking into a high-rise building with mirror-like windows in the middle of Manhattan and staring up at an embossed, brass nameplate on a door that read Harrison Osterfield.

The next chapter in your life, and it sank like a stone in your stomach. You raised your fist to knock, but before you could, someone snatched it away.

“Ripley,” said the bony man maybe a decade older than you, pulling on his collar and dropping your hand, “and you’re not getting my first name. We’ve got to get upstairs before they see you. No time to lose. I’m the lawyer you’re replacing.”

Glancing back at Osterfield’s door, you followed behind Ripley up a few floors (the elevator was too risky, he told you.) and into a crusty, windowless office with water damage dripping in a back corner. After closing the door, he sat in one of the two chairs in front of the desk (one leg was propped up by a book) and gestured for you to do the same.

“You’re Dr. Prine’s student, aren’t you?”

“I am,” you said, sinking into the leather, “She also told me that you’d be waiting for me, but considering this business belongs to a Mr. Thomas Holland, one would think I’d be meeting him on my first day.”

Ripley pulled a leg into his lap, resting one ankle on the opposite knee. “With any luck, you won’t have any direct interactions with him. Nasty man in a nasty business.”

“Being in an IT consulting company can’t be that bad,” you said, head snapping towards a bucket against the wall once water dripped into it from the ceiling. “What’s with the, uh…?” You nodded your head towards the leak.

“They shoved me down here while the real office is getting renovated, or so they say. Doesn’t matter,” said Ripley, “You and I have a lot of work to do. You’re one of Dr. Prine’s. So am I. They’re working me to death here, and apparently you’re a masochistic workaholic. I need to get out, and this is—well, what we’re about to do is going to be easiest for everyone in this room.”

You tapped your fingers against the split leather, each landing with a dull thum. “Why do I get the feeling this is going to be needlessly complicated?”

“Please, trust me, or at least trust Dr. Prine,” he said, untwisting the cap of a nalgene from his desk, “It was her idea. I can call her up, if you want.” He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

Shaking your head, you said, “I’ve already seen your credentials. Dr. Prine gave me more information on you than I need to know, Jerome Ripley. I know you’re trustworthy. What’s the plan?”

“I hear you’re into anonymity.”

You always were a dramatic little bitch, so you agreed to the plan: you and Ripley would collaborate on the job until you knew much more of the rope of Osseous Enterprises, and Ripley would fade out as you took on the job by yourself. The plan was sketchy, and everything reeked of ulterior motives. You found yourself addressing stranger and stranger things sent to you in the emails (a lousy lawyer@osseous, how lame) right up until you opened an email from Holland before Ripley could get to it.

Inside were photographs of a human skeleton with the flesh freshly ripped off of it, and that lay to the side of the bones. Boss shot him through the neck, it was labelled, Had me skin it. Wants you to send it along to H. Jones in Queens and cover the death. Victim lived in… And then addresses, social security, et al.

You were supposed to cover up a murder. A murder committed by—oh, um. Hm. You didn’t sign up for this.

Ripley walked into the office right as Dr. Prine picked up on your phone call, and he slapped the phone out of your hands.

Both of them talked you through. The mafia. You were working for the mafia. Not the whole thing, obviously, but you were working for the most prestigious mob family in—fuck, they covered multiple countries, but their base was right here in New York, in the very fucking building you’d been working in for a month—oh, fuck. Were you in the mob? No, you had to be inducted, and to be inducted, you had to be trusted, or at least, even fucking noticed. Osseous Enterprises was a front corporation for Holland’s dealings in the mob, even though it made a lot of money—but significantly less than what was officially recorded. No wonder Ripley was taking certain tasks. He was easing you into it, letting you deal with the surface level shit before you really knew what you were getting into (an aside: this explained why Dr. Prine seemingly sent you to work in business when you specialised in criminal law).

It took hours and hours of skype calls with Dr. Prine and talking with Ripley outside of work to convince you to stay. Dr. Prine appealed to your better nature, damn it, and talked about how even though Holland worked selfishly, he confronted people and solved problems the government was too scared to commit to. All she had to do was talk up your innate sense of justice, and you started changing your mind, albeit with extreme reluctance, especially with the threat of returning to Polson’s firm. Not to mention your first paycheque had your head spinning, and that didn’t hurt your cause.

So, you worked for the mob, and no one knew you did, not even the mob. If Holland knew Ripley were leaving, Ripley would have a knife in his back within the next minute. It was safer for Ripley to phase out, with you proving your worth secretly, until you deemed it time to reveal yourself, after Ripley left.

“It’d be odd if all areas of your life were perfect in tandem,” Dr. Prine would remind you, and you’d affectionately flip her off and get back to writing your next Epiales piece. Deadlines were always too soon.

***

The Epiales project was the only thing going for you right now, aside from the sudden income from Holland. It began your final semester of law school, when you shouldn’t have been taking on anything new at all. You had written, quite frankly, a fucking astonishing article on modern feminism as it functions in the government and in law, and Dr. Prine had featured it in her law journal. You hadn’t wanted recognition, because your views differed drastically from your family’s, and you didn’t want your peers making fun of you, either. You’d decided on Epiales as your penname, because, even though you wanted to follow in the footsteps of political authors throughout history, you couldn’t find a Greek philosopher whose views you agreed with. So, you went with the personification of nightmares, just because it’d be your family’s worst nightmare if they knew you were this politically different from them.

Just as a joke.

But then, the New York Times had bought your article from Dr. Prine and published it on the front page. Eventually, through repetitions of this and an endless string of emails, you had a monthly feature in the fucking New York Times, so long as the article was original to their newspaper and not a republished one from the law journal. They conceded to your continued posting to the Epiales website on the basis that you posted online after they began selling that day’s edition. You didn’t care. You were in the New York Times, for Christ’s sake.

And no one knew it was you. You were completely safe, from hecklers, from your family, from disgusting men threatening to ruin your life and/or end it. You had taken too many precautions. Hell, if someone tried to trace your IP address, it’d relocate to the middle of a sulphur pit in Yellowstone.

Through a series of accidents, you garnered respect.

***

The day you should have been waiting for comments to roll in for your latest instalment on the refugee crisis, Tom Holland needed his lawyer present at a tennis match in the Hamptons. Holland intended to ensure political ties with Senator Hernandez, whose daughter was playing in the tennis tournament. A sizable crowd at a public outing, all distracted and getting steadily drunk? Holland could make his move easily.

Thus there you stood under the scant shade of a pine tree in the ninety-seven-degree heat, sweating through your jet-black blazer, sucking on a piece of ice, and damning Tom Holland to his grave. You glared daggers into the back of his pretty head as he leant against the railing of the pavilion, laughing with the crowd and swirling an old fashioned in his palm against the muted sounds of rackets hitting the ball in the background. When Harrison bent in to whisper to Holland, Tom took off his amber-tinted sunglasses and cleaned them on the inside of his suit jacket, and once finished, he nodded and started weaving his way through the spectators.

Holland wanted his lawyer here yet wasn’t doing anything worthwhile, you thought bitterly. You were too good for him, really, because you’d planted yourself near Senator Hernandez’s bench as he watched his daughter. While Holland flirted, you were eavesdropping and sweating your fucking skin off.

Near the end of the second set, you caved and shrugged off your blazer when you caught the latter half of something Hernandez was saying: “—read it? It’s brilliant. Next time Congress is in session, I’m bringing in that Epiales article.”

Your jaw dropped, and so did the ice from your mouth. Your blazer hung limp from one hand, and you steadied yourself against the tree, your high heels sinking into the earth. Fumbling around for your phone, you barely had time to get to Dr. Prine’s contact entry before someone gently nudged your arm from behind with a glass tumbler, condensation sticking to your skin.

“You look like you’d rather be anywhere else but here,” said Tom Holland, his voice hot in your ear, while he’s standing a little too close for comfort and holding out an old fashioned identical to his, “I can offer a distraction, at the least.”

You don’t drink, but you took what was offered. “Am I that transparent?”

“Like glass, sweetheart. What’s bothering you?” He leant against the tree trunk, slumping a little, and tapped his index finger against his tumbler.

“Afraid I’ve been dragged here for work.”

“On a Saturday?”

You met his gaze, completely fixated on you through the amber sunglasses. “My boss is a bit of an ass.”

“Sounds like it,” Tom said, cracking a grin, “Forcing you to come to some silly tennis match on the hottest day of the month and flat-out ignoring you.”

“It’s better than putting me in a sundress and having me on his arm.” Like Polson did once that summer. You had kicked his ass, verbally, about it, but since he threatened to smear your name through the mud for the rest of your life, which he was capable of doing, it had to be done. “At least I’m here for a reason, supposedly.”

“Who treats his employees like that? Wouldn’t dream of it.” Tom brought his glass to his mouth as his eyes flicked up and down your body, taking his time about it. “Though I’d put you in a green sundress. Something that shows off your shoulders.”

“And I’d put you in navy, in something with a high neckline. Anything to accentuate those pretty-boy cheekbones you’ve got,” you said.

At this, he ran his tongue over his lower lip, pushed off the tree, and took a step closer to you. He may be enjoying it now, but this motherfucker would regret this conversation in about five minutes. To be honest, you were enjoying it a little too much. To have someone as powerful, confident, and attractive (the grey tweed suit buttoned over a tight, white button-down was doing things to you) as Tom was having his complete, unadulterated attention on you? It was a taste of something you denied yourself. But no matter how fast his charisma held you, it was time to wrap it up. You planned to work for this man a long time.

“Listen,” said Tom, “Why don’t I give you a tour of the country club?” He trailed two fingers from your wrist over the back of your hand to take your drink. “It’s not much, but we’ll get you into some air conditioning. We could find a place to talk without anyone overhearing, if you like.”

You rolled your shoulders back, and for the first time, you began to smile. “Hardly professional, Holland. To think I expected better of you.”

He blinked. “Excuse me?”

“Shouldn’t you be giving this attention to Senator Hernandez’s daughter? It’ll be easier to get to him through her.”

And there it was: his face hardened, his eyebrows furrowing and lips puckering very slightly, the brief clenching of his jaw and the flush around the tops of his ears—the face your opponents got in court when your research that would pack the case into a tight box was brought to the stand. “Who are you?” Tom asked flatly.

“You’re going to have to work for that information, Holland,” you said, “Be careful about how you respond. As much as you should like to, you can’t make a scene with so many witnesses.”

“I own all of these people,” he said through his teeth.

“Go ahead, then,” you said, and you clasped your hand behind your back, waiting.

After a beat, Tom sighed exasperatedly and grabbed you by the wrist to pull you somewhere, but before he could take two steps, you yanked yourself out of his grasp. He didn’t even bother looking over his shoulder. “Are you going to follow me?”

“Are you going to hurt me?”

He turned his head enough to look you in the eye. “You’re going to talk.”

“And if I don’t?”

“You appear to know who I am. Use your imagination.” He jerked his head towards the country club’s restaurant, not far from the tennis courts. “C’mon.”

Death sounded good at all occasions for you, but since someone needed to feed your cat this evening, now wouldn’t be the best time to die. Not to mention you still had half a croissant left over from that morning, and you couldn’t let that go to waste. You followed behind Tom at a couple of paces, checking to ensure no one was watching you leave, because it sure looked like you were sneaking off to give him a blowjob behind the ice machine.

He made you go first once you reached the stairs to the upper storey restaurant, and he cornered you at the far end of the balcony, trapping you against the iron railing with the metal pressing into your back and his hands planted on either side of you. Tom stood close enough that you had to lean backwards a little over the railing, and you had to grip the railing just inside of his hands to stay upright.

His mouth twitched. “Why are you here?”

Your gaze flashed from his lips to his eyes. “I’m here to supervise the contract you’re making with Senator Hernandez, and I’m ensuring that he does sign it.”

“And why’s that?” When he jerked forward in an attempt to make you lose your balance, you stifled a cough at the wave of the oversaturated cologne that hit you.

“Like I said, my boss is a bit of an ass.”

“Damn it,” Tom said, breaking eye contact for the first time. Freshly determined, he moved closer, his hipbones poking into you with one hand gripping your waist. “Who’d be stupid enough to provoke me? Who do you work for? Fletcher? The Fratellis?”

“You,” you said, and you left your lips pursed as he flinched away from you and bent over the back of a wrought-iron chair, pressing his fist to his mouth.

“I’m your lawyer,” you said, stifling a smile, “I wrote the Hernandez contract. I’ve also been managing your affairs for some time now, specifically covering your tracks for fucking murder—”

“What’d you do to Ripley?” Tom straightened up and removed his sunglasses. He tucked them over his collar.

“Ripley’s gone,” you said, “of his own free will. Or of his will, at least, since he wasn’t free to leave under your—”

“Where is he now?”

“Sorry. Privileged information. What matters is that Ripley’s gone completely off-grid so that you can’t find him. Even I’m not able to reach him.” You tentatively slid from your corner along the railing nearer to the chair he had propped a foot on. “I’ve been working for you for over a month now. You really should keep better tabs on your employees—though, I suspect, that’ll be part of my job soon.”

Tom snapped his fingers twice. “Name.”

“Paul McCartney.”

He narrowed his eyes, his nose wrinkling in the process, and said, “Your name.”

You didn’t hesitate in saying it, a first for you, and as he mouthed the syllables slowly, you said, “And don’t bother looking me up. I don’t have any social media, nor do I have an online presence at all.” Under your real name, that is. “You can find me in a list of interns for a certain renown professor, but I’m about to give you that information, anyway.”

Tom stared up at you, a curl dangling in front of his eyes. “A freely given piece of personal information?” His fingertips pressed above his left lapel. “I’m touched,” he said, his voice dark.

“My mentor for the better part of my life now,” you said, stepping closer to drag the back of your hand over the iron pattern in Tom’s chair (he jolted backwards, just barely, but you caught it), “has been Tracey Prine.”

He tilted his head, and his jaw hung open slightly, his tongue lingering on the edge of his top incisors before clicking it against the roof of his mouth. “No, she hasn’t.”

“Want me to call her?” You dug your phone out of your pocket and unlocked it to her contact entry, just where it had been before Tom started talking to you. Your thumb waited above the call button for his decision, but whatever. Fuck with him. You pressed it anyway and put it on speaker.

It rang twice before she picked up, and at the sound of her voice stating your name and telling you she’s got a class in two minutes and to check on the Times (you didn’t react to that part), Tom inhaled sharply and straightened his shoulders.

“Not much, Dr. Prine, but I’m here with my employer,” you say, the phone lying flat in your palm between you and Tom, whose gaze flickered from it to you.

“Tell Mr. Holland I appreciate his work ethic and that he should value yours to no end,” she said, “I’ve got to go. Tonight?”

“Tonight,” you said, and you hung up on her.

“What’s…?” When you shook your head, he held out his hand. “Let me see your texts.” He swore under his breath as he scrolled through them, going through months and months of casework for notable trials, and he read the attachments you had sent recently. “Lab work, blood results. An ice pi—holy shit,” Tom said, the hand with the phone falling limply to his lap, “The Laurens trial. You.” The corner of his mouth twitched before breaking into a smirk. “You’re the one that solved everything. You’re that viper.”

Oh, my fuck; he’s heard of you. Tom Holland has heard about you. He’s familiar with your work. Oh, holy fuck. You held it all in for the moment, but if you made it home alive, you were going to marathon Star Wars and call in for takeaway. “That I am,” you said coolly, accepting your phone when he offered it, “and what does that mean for you, Mr. Holland?”

Any evidence of doubt about him evaporated, and his charisma returned almost instantly. He was smiling now, his teeth on display, and he leant towards you. “I want you at my side, Viper,” he said, his hands dangerously close to yours on the back of the iron chair, “I want you to do for me what you did for Laurens. Exclusively. I’ll be your only client. I want you to tear apart my enemies and pick their bones clean. I want you to be merciless, and I want you to be mine.”

That’s a lot of subtext you’ll be thinking about in the shower later. But show nothing; be nothing. “You want an awful lot.”

Tom took a deep breath and moved to sit on the wrought-iron table. “That’s why I’m giving you an out,” he said, crossing his arms loosely, “before you’re in. Because once you’re in, you can’t leave. I’ll make sure of that.”

You took a moment before clasping your hands behind your back and taking a step around the chair towards him. “I want my privacy.”

“I can’t guarantee that. I’ve got to keep a close eye on you, since Ripley slithered away,” he said, “You’re a shot in the dark despite your accomplishments.”

“You will guarantee it,” you said, leaning against the table with the iron pattern pressing into your palm, “Addresses, bank accounts, social security, everything that I don’t give you.”

Tom shook his head. “I can’t—”

“You will. It’s all I’m asking. I’ll be covering your dirty work from the world, so why can’t I hide mine?” It was your turn to be too close, for your breath to be hot against his skin as you said softly into his ear, “Tell me, Holland: are you afraid of the dark?”

tags: @presidentbttrflyfreak @magstorrn @imstarwarstrashokay @infamous-webhead @starksparker @starksmile @pparkerwrites @softspideys @spidereyhes @bi-writes @iron-spiderr @laurfangirl424 @wheremyotpat @valar--m0rghulis @upsidedownparker @hollandroos

[doctormage]

hi i just need to be really dramatic and long winded bc if i dont get it Out im going to fucking explode

ive actually been trying really hard this semester with my thesis and its REALLY fucking difficult for me. my depression makes me catatonic and unable to complete simple tasks or be motivated to do literally anything; my anxiety paralyzes me at the slightest unexpected change and then obsess over whether everyone in my life hates me because of my anxiety; my sleep schedule is constantly fucked and my doctor is unhelpful; my bdd will sidetrack me from my work and responsibilities for literal hours or days, and sometimes if its feeling spicy send me on a full scale fucking breakdown; and my adhd makes all this shit worse on TOP of all the NORMAL adhd shit. like thats just!!! my life!!!! at all times!!!!! and there have been several times where i have genuinely considered leaving this program or not continuing school after bc i was so fucking overwhelmed and exhausted and scared but i didnt!!! like i make a lot of jokes about procrastinating and wasting my time and doing the least and whatever but in reality its really fucking difficult for me even when im medicated!!! but i dont like admitting that bc of all my exhausting childhood baggage and shit but that is not the point of this rant so anyway

this semester i made a specific effort to try and be a better student even tho all of this stuff has been exacerbated by grad school. i felt i owed it to my director and one of my committee members because theyve been so fucking helpful and put their faith in me and took a lot of their time to help me. i wanted to show them i was worthy of it and capable of being a good student who does all the shit she’s supposed to do, does it well, and does it on time. i overloaded my fall semester and nearly lost my goddamn mind JUST to have a lighter class load this semester so i could focus most of my time on my thesis (like for real that was actually incredibly stupid of me. i lost almost 30 pounds from september to december without conscious effort just because i was so fucking stressed. not a brag and actually kind of concerning bc that has LITERALLY never happened to me). it has been like....significantly taxing, but i wanted to show them how much i appreciate their time and effort and help by being responsible and respectful. my Trying Hard is a lot of people’s Barely Doing Their Best and i know that. turning something in 2 hours early is below average for some but for me, literally anything more than 30 minutes before its due is an actual goddamn miracle. but i wanted to work hard and do things right for my committee members because they deserve it

this christmas my parents asked what i wanted and the ONLY thing i asked for was help with my library dues. last year from like march to october i was significantly depressed and entirely out of my head, and i racked up some pretty bad overdue fees. i didnt even ask them to pay all of it, just some of it. less than $100. im really truly grateful for the gifts they DID get me, but i didnt ask for them for any of it, and my overdue fees were left alone. i was under the impression that they got paid and, like a fucking idiot, i didnt check up on it to confirm. ive been so hell deep in my thesis and teaching and grading and applying to phd programs and looking for apartments and shit that it really just slipped my fucking mind!!! crazy!!!!

today i was in crisis bc i thought i fucked up with scheduling my defense/exam/whatever the fuck. im going to call it defense and i dont give a shit bc everyone calls it some other shit and i dont CARE. anyway i really thought i fucked up but i went and talked it out with my director and it was all sorted out. i’ve gotten like 50% of her feedback on my thesis draft, which i’ve incorporated, and im waiting on comments from another reader (the other helpful person on my committee). we have to run some dumbass software before scheduling, so i ran it today and tried to schedule it but couldnt bc theres a hold on my account. i went on a fucking....ALMIGHTY QUEST to figure it out and i finally discovered that guess what!!!!!!! its my GODDAMN LIBRARY OVERDUE FEES!!!!!! THAT I THOUGHT WERE PAID!!!!!!! i had to pay them myself which is fine idc but it takes several days to process. this fucks up my life on SEVERAL levels

for one, its fucking impossible to get a hold of my third committee member. she is a vapor in the wind. shes like super busy and thats all good and well but the point is theres like zero communication there. i finally got confirmation on a defense date from all 3 members and had been literally planning MY ENTIRE LIFE around this date. after todays first scheduling crisis i was so happy i was still on track, but now this? now i have to wait 3-4 days before i can even SCHEDULE the defense. the super delightful part is that we have to schedule a minimum of 2 weeks in advance. so now i cant schedule my defense until tuesday at the absolute earliest, but that ALSO bumps my defense date several days ahead. i have no fucking clue if my committee is going to agree on another day that works for everyone bc theyre all busy as shit and we’d been working toward the original date for weeks if not months, and im so fucking upset because this is exactly what i DIDNT want to have happen. i havent tried to email them yet because im hoping beyond fucking hope i can call somebody at the university tomorrow and see if the hold is something else besides the fee, but it makes me sick to think of having to be like “oh sorry i know i constantly fuck up everything ever and im a piece of shit but can we change this date we’ve had set since january because i was an extra shitty piece of shit this time??” like OHHH MY GODDDDD

and the thing thats really fucking with me is that like, yes its my fault but this one time its not ENTIRELY 100% my fault. i asked for a favor and had the understanding that it was taken care of. yes the fees were my doing and yes i shouldve checked but oh my fucking god. i feel like all the effort ive put into being a better student this semester has been for fucking nothing because im going to have to email my committee asking for a different date and ruin all their fucking lives and theyll be so disappointed in me. i have like legitimately been crying on and off about it since like 4:30 today

it so shitty in and of itself but i especially dont want to do this to my director bc she is legitimately the reason im finishing this program AND that im going to a phd program. a year ago i’d barely spoken 20 words to her but she still agreed to be a reader on my committee just because she heard me explain my thesis for all of 30 seconds and decided to give it a try. she literally had not read a song of ice and fire at the time and she started reading them for me to help me with my thesis. in the fall when my original director basically threatened to leave my committee if i didnt change all my ideas, my current director stepped in and helped me and talked me through it and then offered to take her place even though my research is BARELY distantly related to hers. through all of this she’s been so insanely patient with me, super encouraging of my ideas both in this project and in others, helped me decide whether it was right for me to get my phd immediately after my masters, proofed and edited and helped me with ALL my phd application materials, and STILL is in the process of reading these goddamn books just to be a better director. i have lost my head so many times and shes always been there to help me figure my shit out, and i wanted to have it figured out for once. how stupid of me

like bumping the date isnt the end of the whole world but its really not just about the fact that i have to reschedule. i was trying real goddamn hard to be a better student this semester and i REALLY fucking owed it to my director and other reader, but especially director, and i still managed to fuck up this bad. i feel like such a DISAPPOINTMENT and it just will not leave my brain bc im so mad at myself. i tried watching shows and youtube compilations about game of thrones and shit but now my bf is asleep and im alone and its all i can think about. im so fucking tired of being the person i am honestly and i dont mean that in an edgy way its just like jesus christ i wish there was less shit wrong with me. i wish i had any kind of willpower or discipline so i couldve learned these skills and been a better student from the start. i wish i wasnt a giant piece of shit!!!!! 

and now im going to be up late being anxious about all this which means that i will, once again, wake up late but also still be really exhausted, which means i’ll do a shitty job teaching and get overwhelmed by everything and who the fuck knows what fun bullshittery will ensue because of it. i am so fucking tired of me and my fuckery and the fact that it fucks with other people even why i try so hard for it not to. tired!!!!!!!! fucking tired