#and he decides he has to go to that fucking beauty pageant

[writteninverses]

just watched little miss sunshine and oh. dwayne and olive. that’s all.

#best part of the movie is dwayne having a meltdown #and he says he wants to be left alone #and olive just approaches him and hugs him #and he is like: okay #because that’s his little sister #comforting him #and he decides he has to go to that fucking beauty pageant #because she really wants to go

[justlemmeadoreyou]

I saw requests were open and I have one☺️. How about one when you are like Brad Pitts daughter or anyone famous daughter and you just started dating and his team or Friends like make fun of you and hurt your feelings or just say he is using you.

hi hun!! thank you for sending the request!! i hope you like this!!!

Word Count: 2.4k

Pairing: boyfriend!harry x reader

Warnings: cursing, kissing

masterlist!! | send requests!!

“He’s just using you because your dad is an A-lister”

Those were the words Y/n wished to never hear. But, she always did, in her every relationship.It was when her friends began to say that, that she knew the relationship was reaching its end.

Y/n. Y/n Pitt. The daughter of Brad.

She was almost as famous as her father, if not less. A successful model and actress, a philanthropist and currently, the girlfriend of Harry Styles.

Her fame and success didn’t come handy, despite her father being a prominent name in the industry. Her career got a big break when she won a prestigious beauty pageant, and she has never looked back ever since. She made her way by herself, from the bottom to where she is now.

Still, whenever she hears the phrase “he used you”, it hits like a dagger deep into her heart, and that makes her question if she would ever be loved by anyone for who she is.

Which takes her back to today, sitting in a cafe with her friends, which was supposed to be a hang out. But, soon it turned into a relationship discussion, full of petty gossips and hate. About her and Harry.

“Dude, you know that he is with you because of your dad, right? I mean, come on, Y/n! You can’t be this naive!”

“That’s totally true! I mean, like, think about it, next month is the opening of your family production house, which was announced 6 months ago. And, Harry started dating you just around that. That just can’be a fucking coincidence.”

She sighed, as she listened to the both of them trash talk Harry. She knew they weren’t true. They hadn’t met 6 months ago. They had met a year ago, and occasionally saw each other at awards and openings. They did some harmless flirting for so many months, but then, one day, they were drunk and hooked up. After that, they started to date. It was Harry’s idea, because he didn’t want her to feel like he did all that flirting to get in her pants one day. He genuinely liked her, and was hoping to ask her out. And that had felt like the perfect opportunity.

They had been happy ever since. Harry didn’t inquire too deeply about their family’s business. He wasn’t interested in her money and fame. He was interested in her. He liked her. Right?

“Y/n! Are you even listening?” she was broken from her trance of thoughts by her friend, and she immersed herself back into the conversation.

“You have got to do some background check on him. See what he does on meetings with his team. He just finished a tour, he wouldn’t be planning another one so soon. You know, snoop around, find out stuff.”

“I am not going to do that! That would mean I don’t trust him! And I do! I trust him. And what he does on meetings with his pr team is his Harry!!!business. I don’t want to put my nose in between.”

“Fine. Whatever.”

“Yeah. Say him hi from us if you see him soon. Or if you see him at all”

That hurt her.

True, they both hadn’t seen each other since a few days. Weeks, if you will. But, he told her that he was busy and had to visit his mum for a while. And how could she argue with that?

She decided to not answer them back, terminating any further arguments. They changed the topic soon after, talking about some other gossip.

. . .

Throwing her stuff on the floor, she slumped down on the bed. The workout was good, but sometimes, it drained the whole life out of her.

After catching her breath, she got up and pulled out her phone, pulling up Harry’s contact.

They had texted three days ago, and the messages made her smile,

Harry: Okay, so, do you like tea or not?

Y/n: I like tea. But not that much hat you will bring me a while shop of your “Special England tea”!!

Harry: It’s not even that much. Plus, I will drink it with you.

Y/n: But still???

Harry: Come on!!

Y/n: Alright, fine! But you will make tea for me. Every morning and evening.

Harry: Done! Always at your service, ma’am! 🫡 Plus, you know, tea has antioxidants. And it boosts immunity! I can make a cuppa for you everytime after we fuck.

Y/n: Harry!!!

Harry: What?? It really boosts energy. After one round, you feel so tired and—

Y/n: Alright, stop! You’re such a menace.

Harry: I’m your menace!! You took responsibility of this menace those months ago.

Y/n: Don’t make me regret that!

Harry: Aww :(( I’m sad now.

Y/n: Wanna facetime?

Harry: Yess! But I’m still sad :(( 🙁

Y/n: Yes, Harry. I will make it up to you! Now call before I change my mind.

Harry: Yes, ma’am 🫡

They used to text regularly, but called rarely. The last call had been about a week ago, when he was drunk and had butt-dialled her. They had talked, and she managed to safely halp him get to his room, drink water and go to sleep. And he slept without hanging up, and so did she. Harry woke up at midnight, and started sneezing, which woke her up. She wanted to check him for fever, but he promised he was okay, and was going back home soon after, so she didn’t have to worry afout him. She was a bit assured by that, but still, she couldn’t stopped worrying.

He hadn’t called ever since. Even the last one was a accident.

She wasn’t the clingy type, or someone who needed calling and texting every minute and every hour of the day. They both had professional careers that mattred to them profusely. But, she missed him. So, she decided to call.

He picked up, and was clearly in the middle of something.

“Y/n! How are you?” she didn’t hear them clearly, over all the talking in the background.

“Harry! Where are you?!”

“I’m in a meeting!”

“But-you were supposed to be at your mum’s!”

“Yeah! I came back early. I had a meeting her in LA. It’s about an upcoming film.”

“A film!?”

“Yeah. It’s in the talks. I haven’t signed it yet, though.”

“What is this about?!”

“I’ll tell you, I’m coming back sson. Then we can go on a dinner or something. And hey! I almost forgot! The production is done by your dad’s firm!! Isn’t that great!”

Shit.

“Oh! You-you didn’t tell me that.”

“Yeah, your dad asked me not to. But, it’s gonna be on the media soon, so I thought you hear it from me rather than the press.”

“Listen, I gotta go. I’ll talk later.”

“Sure, love! Bye!”

And she cut the call.

Were her friends right? Did he use her for all these months just for this?

Maybe they were. Maybe they weren’t.

She felt sad. Sure, the offer might’ve been by her dad, but, no one talked to her? No one even bothered to even tell her about it, till the last moment. Till the paparazzi were gonna know so that she won’t feel bad for herself by hearing it from them.

Maybe they were right. Maybe he did date her to get the advantage, and will soon breakup with her, as soon as his job from her is over.

As soon as he has finished using her.

. . .

He was coming back today. But, she wasn’t bothered. He could come, and go back to his own house. Not bother talking to her, or even seeing her face. She didn’t want that.

Despite that, she picked up his call.

“Y/n? You didn’t pick up my call yesterday. Was calling you before I got on the plane.”

“Yeah-I was kinda busy yesterday.”

“Oh. So? I’m back. I’m gonna get my baggage and then…maybe I can come over?” he smiled, she could tell.

“Uh-I don’t know, Harry. I’m tired. I had a shoot yesterday and I haven’t eaten much.”

“So? Let me take you to dinner.”

“I’d rather stay ion tonight”

“So I–”

“Alone.”

“Oh. Alright. Okay. Call me if you need me.”

I won’t. She thought to herself.

“Bye, Harry” not “Bye, lovie” or “Bye, H”

Maybe she was tired. Harry decided not to think about it too much, and instead, went to his house.

. . .

“Harry!! How’s my man?”

“Hey! I’m good! You know, same old-same old.”

“Yeah! Where’s Y/n? She isn’t here?”

“No, man. She actually wanted to rest today. She had a shoot yesterday”

“No, she didn’t. She was with us yesterday. We went shopping, and then drinks, even.”

“Oh…”

“Maybe she was tired? Or hungover?”

“Or maybe she didn’t want to be with me.”

“Hey! Don’t say that. She actually likes you. Talk to her.”

“Yeah. I will”

He didn’t talk to her.

. . .

Y/n was scrolling through her phone, when she heard the door knock.

“Who is it?”

“It’s Harry.”

She wanted to pretend she wasn’t here. But, it was too late for that.

“Coming!”

She opened the door, and was welcomed with white peonies. A lot of them.

“Good morning, love”

She couldn’t stop the smile that took over her face on seeing him in the morning. The glowy face, the handsome smile.

“Good morning! Come in”

He walked in, removing his shoes, and to the kitchen to put the flowers in water.

He came back, and she was sitting on the sofa.

“I put them in water. Hope you don’t mind”

“No! I don’t. Come on, sit.”

He sat, to hug her, and sling a hand over her shoulder.

But, she slid away.

So, he sat away too, both ending up on the opposite ends of the large sofa.

“So? How you’ve been?”

“I’m fine, thank you! How was your shoot that day?”

“It was alright.”

Lie. He didn’t bother asking her more, not wanting to hear more lies.

“You free today?”

“Yeah…I think so?”

“So, can we go out? A coffee or something?”

“Or, we can hang out here.”

She smiled. He caught it, and scooted closer, wanting to kiss her.

She didn’t protest, allowed his lips on hers. It was when he deepened it, and his hands went to her shirt buttons.

“Harry–Harry!”

He pulled back, confused.

“Yeah?”

I-I don’t really feel like– you know”

“Oh. Fuck. I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s alright. I just don’t feel too up for it”

“Sure.” they both looked down, an awkward silence engulfing the atmosphere.

“I should leave” he said after a few seconds, taking the hint that she clearly didn’t want him there.

“Oh. You don’t wanna stay?”

“Not really.”

Saying that, he saw his way out.

“She dosen’t like me anymore. Maybe found someone else.” he thought

“He got what he wanted. Why is he staying? He should leave already.” she thought.

Harry was sad. As he walked towards his car, he felt anger. She didn’t like him anymore. Could’ve just said to him at his face.

He couldn’t live like this. So, he decided to got back to confront her.

Before Y/n could close the door shut, Harry was back.

“Harry?”

“Yeah. Me.” he growled, so angry, his eyes were red, and fists clenched.

“What happened?” she asked, a bit scared.

“You tell me what happened. You don’t like me anymore?”

“That’s not–how can you say that?”

“You don’t talk to anymore, you don’t call me, or even text me. You don’t want to hang out with me, hell, you can’t even stand kissing me anymore.” he was hovering over her, and she was scared now. He realized that, and backed down, throwing himself on the couch.

“That’s not true! And you can’t talk like that to me!”

“I’m sorry. But you could just tell me. Instead of making me suffer like that. Or do you like that?”

She too was angry now.

“Maybe I do. Right now, I fucking do. And that is much better than what you did to me!”

“And what did I do?!”

“You used me. You fucking used me to get contacts with my family. You just wanted to get close to my dad so that you could use his money on your stupid new movie!!”

“What? Fuck! You think that low of me?!”

They both were yelling now.

“It’s not “thinking low” of you. It’s what’s true.. You didn’t even tell me anything. Hell, I didn’t even know you were doing another movie.”

“I was planning on telling you over dinner. After I came back.”

“But, you couldn’t. You feared that I would learn everything from the media, so you told me haphazardly over a fucking call!”

“Oh, so would you rather have heard it from them?”

“Could’ve been better. Better than hearing from a fucking liar. A fucking loser who just used me to get my father’s money.”

“Watch your tone, Y/n. I haven't gone that low. And you know that.”

“Maybe I don’t. Maybe you did, and once you got it, came back here to break up with me.”

“You’re so fucking childish!”

“Oh. Break up with me, then. Do it”

“Maybe I will” he mocked her. And walked out the door, slamming it shut.

He went back to his car, and made his way inside this time. Once the anger had subsided, he cried. And so did she.

. . .

“Harry styles rejected a movie produced by Y/n Pitt’s father. A coincidence or a desperate attempt?”

She slumped, when she read the article. and then about ten more, about how he had backed down in order to save his relationship. Some said that it was a publicity stunt.

She pulled up Harry’s contact, calling him.

"Why?"

"To get it off your mind that I did not use you."

"Fuck, Harry. What do you want from me?"

"I don't want anything from you. I want you."

"Really?"

"Yes, y/n. really. I did not give up a million dollar project for just "really""

"You didn't have to, you know. And that wasn't a good bargain either. What did you get? Me? Should've taken the movie instead."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah"

"You want me to break up with you. And take the movie instead.?"

"Yes. if that's what you want."

"What I want is you. How do I say it so you believe me?"

"Take me on a date."

. . .

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[sincerelyyellingback]

So, the county I live in has an annual maple festival the last weekend in April. There's a pageant that goes with it, where a panel of judges selects a high school-aged king, queen, and first attendant, as well as several other positions across other age categories.

Well, the guy who runs our local Facebook gossip page apparently does not agree with the judges' picks this year, and he, as well as several other grown men in his comment section, have decided to publicly tear these children down because of their appearances and the way that they dress.

The comments are a cesspool, with grown men calling these kids the "mental illness king and queen" and alleging that these children's parents are absent, and saying the queen "looks like a dude" and the king "looks like a make a wish situation." It's absolutely disgusting.

It isn't a beauty pageant! These children are chosen for their values and their character, and these disgusting moids in the comments are mad that these kids aren't their idea of attractive. HELLO????? Our world is so fucked up, they feel comfortable saying things like that publicly.

And the really sad part is that the children have all seen these posts, and their family members are having to go into the comment section and stand up to grown adults who are bullying their children in a public online space. This is the most attention this pageant has ever gotten, and this is the reason why.

Un-fucking-believeable.

[nottapossum]

Itty Bitty sinners 1.5. Safe place 🕸♠️🪽❤️

⚠️Tw: Abusive parents, taking away comfort items, implied sexual abuse, insecurities, questioning friendships, regrets, talking about death, and safe drinking.Lmk if I should add.

'Tether your soul to me.

I will never let go completely

One day your hands will be

Strong enough to hold me

I might not be there for all your battles

But you'll win them eventuallyI pray that I'm giving you all that matters

So one day you'll say to me

I love my life

I am powerful

I am beautiful

I am free

I love my life

I am wonderful

Iam magical

I am meI love my life.' ~I love my life, Robbie Williams

♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤

~~~Velvette:~~~~

Velvette woke up in her little clothes the next morning.

Unsurprisingly to her, she knew it was bound to happen sometime soon.

Though she was hoping it wouldn’t happen THIS soon, she was hoping to be positively triggered so that she could de-stress without having to face her idiotic reason for slipping.

She grabbed her clothes for the day and headed to the bathroom.

She removed her bonnet which was wrapped perfectly on her head. Val must have helped because Vox can never tie it on properly. 

She oils up her hair at the start of her routine, keeping it in a shower cap as she brushes her teeth.

Then she heads to the shower to do her typical routine of shampooing, tea rinsing, conditioning, drying, and moisturizing.

She put her hair up and looked over her many wigs to decide her look for today.

Oh! Absolutely space buns with two braids in the front.

Yes, it was that kind of a day for sure.

~~~~~~~~

After she was presentable, she walked to the kitchen to get a quick breakfast.

“Velvette, good morning.” Vox says. 

“Uh yeah, good morning.” Velvette says back, distracted on her phone, scrolling through the latest trends of today.

She's created most of them, because she's amazing. But still. 

“Velvette, I'd like to talk if you don't mind.” Vox says to her.

Velvette rolls her eyes as she grabs a blueberry muffin from the counter. Vox is such a dad, even when he doesn't need to be. She sticks her phone in her pocket. (Yes, she has pockets, no thanks to stupid male fashion designers, this is exactly why she makes her own clothes, thank you.) 

“No time, Vox. I have tons of shit to do.” She says to him. 

“Vel, the fact that you regressed yesterday without warning does concern me. I think maybe you should take a break.” Vox says, blocking her path to the door. "Why not take the day off?"

“I'm fine, Vox. Just- overworked. As always.” She says.

“Which is why I suggested you take a break.” Vox says.

“But I'm fine now! Okay? Just fuck off!” She says. 

“Vel, you and I both know there's more to it than that. Something happened. What is it?" He asks.

Velvette held herself together- it was so stupid!

It wasn't that big of a deal- 

It wasn't worth her emotional turmoil. 

“It doesn't matter, I'm fine now so…just leave me alone to work.” She says, walking out of the room and over to her station. 

Vox didn't respond, but she swears she heard him sigh and mumble something about dealing with it later.

She knew pushing down her frustrations would result in slipping, and she knew Vox would know if it was involuntary…

But what else was she supposed to do? Carmilla's stupid comments aren't worth being upset about. Who is she? A fucking nobody! She doesn't care what that old hag thinks of her…

So, why did it bother her so much?

~~~Velvette, past:~~~

When Velvette was younger, she used to do pageants. 

Her mother would often dress her up, fix her hair. 

She forced her to endure eyebrow waxing, singing and dancing lessons, baton spinning lessons, perfecting hair straightening. 

She was fine with it as a kid, she didn't mind using her beauty to make others feel bad as she got more and more competitive.

The worst part of it was the lack of  dresses that she deemed beautiful.

Her mother chose the color red for most of her dresses, when she is not a fan of red.

She liked colors like pink, blue, and black! 

So, it occurs to her that the only way to get a good dress was to create one herself.

She worked so hard on it! Getting her best colored pencils and glitter, she created a brand new dress with personality and extravagance! 

She worked and reworked on it for hours until her sketch was perfect enough to show her mother.

She walked downstairs where her mother and her mother's friend were talking. "Mama?" She asks.

Her mother sighs and turns to her. "What?"

Velvette took a deep breath. "Uh, I have a dress idea for the pageant." She explains as she hands the sketch over.

“That's nice, dear.” Her mom says, patting her head. 

“I think it would make a really good pageant dress.” She says again. “We can sew it together, and-”

“No, honey. I already picked out your dress." Her mother says. "Besides, we want you to look good, not like a child drew all over you.”

Her mother crinkled her paper up and tossed it on the floor. 

Velvette just walked back upstairs and cried it out quietly. 

~~~Velvette:~~~

She eventually made the dress herself, but for her doll…

Which her father gave to her half sister soon after because he felt she was 'too old for her.' And what was worse, her mother agreed with him. 

She was 13. How is that too old for dolls? Old women collect dolls all the time! 

But, anyway. Carmilla is clearly just jealous of her skills...just like her good for nothing mother. 

Who treats people that way?

"Velvette, ma'am. I got those new designs in." Sasha, one of her designers, tells her. 

"Splendid." She says, taking the portfolio and looking the designs over. 

"These look horrible." Velvette says. "Try making them look...not horrible. Thanks, darling." She shoves the book at her and gets back to work.

~~~Angel:~~~

"I don't want to hurt you, Angel baby."  He told him. 

Angel tries to keep himself together as Val's statements plagued him.

He's close to blacking out. He has to keep moving to stop himself from falling asleep. 

"It's your fault, you know. If you'd only listen, it would be so much easier."~ He said after hitting him.

Angel knows that he knows if he complies with what Val wants, it would be so much easier. But Val asks for too much. He expects Angel to not only do more than any capable person but also to make Val look good while he does it. 

It's just beyond his ability.

"That hotel doesn't care about you. They only make things worse for you at work. Dont they?" Valentino asks, blowing smoke in Angel's face.

Angel blinks...

They have. Haven’t they?

Work gets harder when he-

No! Stop! 

Angel shakes his head.

What is he thinking? Val is the one making things worse. His friends are trying to help.

But he answers Val anyway, knowing the consequences if he doesn’t. "Yes, Valentino." 

"You know they'll leave once you stop giving them what they want... don't you?"

"Yes, Valentino." 

"I love you so much, Angel." Valentino tells him. 

"I- I love you too." Angel says.

Val kisses him, and he kisses back.

Damn, it felt good to be loved. 

Even if it was toxic.

~~~Angel and Husk:~~~

Angel walked back into the hotel after work.

It was good to be home.

Home? 

Yeah, this was home...

He hasn't had a home in a while.

Ugh! His mind was all over the place! He can't think!

"Angel."

Husk.

"Hey." Angel says to him.

"You look like shit." Husk says, cleaning a glass.

"Gee, thanks." Angel smirks at him.

"Wanna drink? I was just about to put everything away for the night, but I wouldn't mind chatting." Husk says.

Angel walks over to the bar, but he doesn’t answer verbally. 

Husk pours him a drink. "You've been awfully quiet lately. Is everything alright?" He asks. 

Angel shrugs. "As alright as ever." He says.

Husk nods. "You wanna talk about it?" 

"No." Angel answers quickly, it was nice of Husk to offer…but he doesn't know if he can talk about it.

Husk nods. "Alright."

Angel takes his drink as Husk wiped down the counter and put stuff away.

"Husk?"

Husk looks up at him. 

"If you heard something about me... something ridiculous. Would that change anything?" Angel asks. 

"Maybe. Depending on what it is." Husk says.

"That's a vague answer." Angel says.

"You asked a vague question." Husk response.

Angel shrugs. He can’t argue with that, he supposed.

Husk looks at him, probably noticing his disappointment. "I might look at you differently, but it wouldn't make me think less of you." Husk says. "You're my pal. Nothing can change that."

Angel smiles but then drops it. "How can I be sure of that?" He asks.

"We’ve all done shit. We're all weird. Who am I to judge you?" Husk asks. 

Angel nods, a frown still on his face for now. "Thanks, Husk."

"Whatever it is, you can tell me...if you feel comfortable with it. I'm not here to judge." He promises. 

Angel smiles. “Thanks…I do appreciate it.” Angel says.

Husk remains silent, he's found the best way to get people to open up is just to be patient but open to listen. 

After a few minutes of silence Angel started to talk.

Surprisingly he didn't even overdo it with the drinking, he only had two. Which was incredible progress for the spider. 

“It just sucks, you know?”  Angel sighs. “At work I have to be ‘Angel dust, the porn star’ here I have to be as well adjusted as Angel can be while also fighting the urge to be my other persona. I feel like everywhere I am…I'm just as fake as you said I was.” He admits.

Husk feels bad about that, in the end his and Angel's quarrel did bring them closer together. So, he supposed it was for the best. But, he still hates that he hurt Angel…in any way. Even if it ended up okay.

“I didn't mean to-”

“I know.” Angel interrupts. “I just wish I had one place where I can just be…broken and not have to lie about it all the time…you know?” 

Husk nods. “I get that…especially here, it's hard to find people who will actually accept you as you are.”

There's a silence between them as both of them look away. 

Husk turns to Angel. "I-"

Angel's eyes widened.

Husk turns away from him, ears dropping. "I can…be -"

Angel tilted his head.

He looks at Angel again. "I can be…that place for you...if you want. I know I haven't been such a great friend to you before, but I do care about you, and I wouldn't turn my back on you just because you're struggling."

Angel scoffs. "Please, like I've been such a great friend to you? We've both been shitty."

"Well," Husk gives Angel another drink and takes one for himself. "Here's to being less shitty."

Angel and Husks glasses touch and they drink to it.

Angel smiles. It was nice to have a safe place...

But, it was also scary. 

Because when you trust someone- or something...it has all the power…it can destroy you. 

He's putting faith in something...someone. The last time he had faith in someone, he-

Angel shakes his head. "Uh- thanks, Husk…I uh- I should get to bed...goodnight." Angel says quickly, he turns away and heads upstairs.

"Night." Husk says, not sure if the spider heard him at all. 

Husk finishes cleaning up the place, then sits down on the floor. 

He may have blown it. 

Maybe he was too forward? 

With Angel? Nah.

He sighs, wiping his face with his paw.

Why was he feeling this way? 

He felt the urge to go upstairs and check on Angel, make sure he was okay…

But, it would be crossing a line. 

Besides…

He needs to get over that strange feeling whenever Angel is around. 

He can't just trust it. He needs to bite it down.

If Angel needs him, he'll be there.

But Husk shouldn't be the one to ask.

Besides… What can he really do? He's as trapped as Angel is.

He rests his head against the wall behind him.

Husk never wished for freedom more than when he was with him. 

Angel heads upstairs to his room and cries himself to sleep. 

It's all he can do as his entire world seems so dark and hopeless. 

What was better? To have hope and risk it failing?

Or to have no hope, no disappointment… but to live as the fallen for those who had hope in you? 

~~~Charlie and Vaggie:~~~

Charlie and Vaggie were getting ready for bed. 

Some well rested sleep was exactly what Charlie needed after a long day of…totally not stressing out over the inevitable extermination. 

She had to stay strong…for everyone here. They can't know how scared she is, how stressed. She has to keep moving, keep faith! She can't let her emotions control her. 

“How was your day with Pentious?” Vaggie asks her as she finished brushing her teeth.

Charlie tucks her hair back and summons the best smile. 

Thinking of Pentious, thinking of the hotel, maybe it wasn't all in vain. She has to keep positive! Keep faith in her project. 

“It was amazing.” She says honestly. “I think he's making some real progress, I think we're so close to a breakthrough!” She says.

“That's great, babe.” Vaggie says enthusiastically, walking into the bedroom and sitting on the bed with her beloved girlfriend. 

“He'll get redeemed, I just know it.” Charlie says. “If only I can think of a way to help Angel the same way.” 

“Charlie-” 

“I need to help him find his own good qualities. He has so much hurt, some much insecurities.” She explains. “I can see it by looking at him. How do I make him see what I see?” She asks.

Vaggy reaches out and takes Charlie's hand. “Charlie, you're done for today.” She says firmly.

“They're coming, Vaggie. I don't have time to be done, not even for a day.” She admits.

“You have tomorrow. But, today, you need rest.” Vaggie says.

Charlie frowns. “I guess…”

“I'm sorry.” Vaggie sighs. “I know this is important, but I'm worried about you. You've worked so hard and done so much. I want you to know how proud I am of you. You are amazing, so strong, so brave. But, you need to take a step back before you break-”

Charlie touches Vaggie's face. “I'm being careful, I promise. You don't have to worry about me.”

“I don't want to see you hurt.” Vaggie says. 

Charlie kisses Vaggie. “You may have to someday…but I promise that no matter what happens…you won't lose me.” 

A tear falls down Vaggie's cheek. 

She's not so sure that's true…

“What’s wrong?” Charlie asks her.

Vaggie shakes her head and wipes away the single tear. “I just- can't help but worry.” She admits. “Promise me you'll take time to rest when you need it?”

Charlie nods, griping Vaggie's hand. 

Vaggie has missed this affection. Charlie and her have been so busy that they've hardly made any time for kisses and hand holding.

“I promise.” Charlie says, kissing Vaggie. “Goodnight Vaggie.”

“Night, babe.” Vaggie smiles. 

They curl into bed, and snuggle close to one another.

They hold each other close, as if their time together was limited…

And Charlie feels like it could be.

What if she's not able to redeem everyone?

Or…what If she does?

Either way…it ends with Vaggie leaving her side.

Her heart aches thinking about it.

It will break her to lose Vaggie…

But if that's how she'll know, Vaggie is safe…

If that's how it has to be, she hopes Vaggie has to leave for something far better than the hell she's been forced to face. 

Charlie kisses Vaggie on her damaged eye before closing her own eyes and getting some rest.

…

Vaggie looks at the ceiling with a sigh.

She knows she's a hypocrite…

But Charlie was more important right now. 

She's the one working hard…

Vaggie has hardly done a thing…

She's not doing nearly enough to protect Charlie from this agony. 

Not doing enough to redeem herself.

Heaven are truly monsters…

She hates that she was ever part of it. 

Charlie does everything she can to help sinners…

While she had done everything to hurt them. 

But she'll do everything she can to make it right again.

She'll do it for them. 

And mostly…

She smiles at Charlie, snoring soundly.

She'll do it for Charlie. 

♡♡♡

'I am not my mistakes

And God knows, I've made a few

I started to question the angels

And the answer they gave was you

I cannot promise there won't be sadness

I wish I could take it from you

But you'll find the courage to face the madness

And sing it because it's true.'

~ I love my life, Robbie Williams.

♤

♡

◇

♧

Possum: So sorry this didn't come out on time, I got sick! Fleaking sick. And got a tad behind.I'm fine now though!

Chapter 6 shouldn't take as long,We get to see more babies- it's gonna be so cute!!!! 😍 I'm excited lol 😆

@todayimfour @trophyxtissues2 @ask-dusty-boy @dex-dawn @innocentlittlelambsnursery

#ittybittysinners #hazbin hotel agere #hazbin hotel age regression #Little!Velvette

[jopetkasi]

Sooner or later, I will ran out of friends, like seriously.

It's damned if you do. Damned if you don't situation.

Situation #1

So this friend in order to get me laid, sent me a picture. Turns out these are supposed to be straight guys who goes gay for pay (In other words, escort boys he found in Telegram) This is also the friend who used to date muscled men who struts their family jewels in sketchy male beauty pageants. 

Staring at the picture, I admit piqued my interest. I was tempted to bite the offer. However, I felt slighted. On hindsight, am I that old to pay for sex with younger men? Have I crossed over the plane of matronly gay guys who do not give a fuck with loving relationships and instead settles for paid sex (no offense, please) 

Okay, I am no paragon of virtues. Let me be clear on that. I admit in the past, majority of my relationships and flings are with married men. and yes, there have been monetary considerations on account of school fees to pay and debts settle. Even my ex, I willingly financed his business. 

Did I give out of love? of course no. There has to be something premium to give back. And that is me feeling superior over these burly machismo infested men, who was at my beck and call, because I have the money.

Gamitan in other words. 

That was my addiction. Controlling people. And it was ugly. It left me wounded and empty after every sexual bout in some sleazy motel. 

Tired from all the bullshit I did, I decided to give  myself a break.  I deleted photos and indecent convos. Avoided occasions to slut and cleared my hard drive of porn - not because I am pretending to be clean. But simply because I am getting addicted and it  has started to ruin me little by little. Never easy I told myself and it took me years to partly overcome that addiction (and struggles to this day)  

That is why people nowadays find me aloof. Intentional yes because that is my defense mechanism. Ayoko na kasing tumingin sa tao tapos me malice. me balak or pagnanasa.  tapos na ako dyan. gusto ko nalang mag relate to people not because they are physically desirable but for who they really are. 

Hypocrisy? I dunno? You are free to judge me. 

Going back to the friend who doubles as pimp (lol kidding) I told him that the guys are handsome but I am already dating someone - of course that’s another necessary lie. 

[arcplaysgames]

Yosuke and Teddrick Hanamura, I am going to miss you idiots.

I have written an entire post on the tragedy of Yosuke. He is, like Chie, very much a work in progress. You can look at the arc of his character like a lobbed ball and guess his eventual trajectory and landing. I hope for Yosuke, it will be a soft one. I fear instead he will bust an ankle on impact and cry about it, but he'll be okay.

Also someone please wife this man before he winds up married to some woman in the most agonizing comphet marriage of all time. Yosuke is a homosexual and by god he needs a boyfriend.

Character Accuracy to Their Arcana: ZEEEEEERO. He's a High Priestess.

aaaaaaaand this is the second time i cried playing P4G, the first being Kanji's Max SLink scene. Oh my god the tears.

This fucking character should be nothing by irritation. On paper, on script, Teddie is annoying and too much to handle and overbearing (ha). But like, Sam Riegel is the fucking all-star winner of the entire cast imo for making Teddie work. I have been continuously baffled by how much I adore this mascot bear, but his story was so genuinely moving and affecting, he's my second favorite character in the game. The fucking PATHOS.

I am so happy that Teddie made himself into a real boy. If he didn't, Nanako wouldn't have made it. The world is richer for his self-decided presence in it.

Love you Teddie.

Character Accuracy to Their Arcana: 12 out of 10, it's immaculate from start to finish.

I have such mixed emotions on Naoto.

Going into this game, Naoto was the character I feared the most. There is a lot of right-minded anger about how Naoto is handled by the game. As I said before, I tempered my expectations dramatically for playing.

Naoto disappointed me but not because the Gender Thing. With the clarity of hindsight and some context from a trusted source, I get what they were going for with Naoto. But while they were always a fucking gem in the MSQ and group scenes, Naoto's SLink was one of the weakest in the game. I think that at some point, the writers (or someone who had say over the writing, lbr) got gunshy around what they created with Naoto, and as soon as he joins the party, it feels like all the interesting parts of his set-up are shelved.

Which I don't know which I would prefer honestly? A solid attempt at dealing with Naoto And Gender that winds up being a huge fuckup, or this defanged version of a character arc, where all Naoto's potential is visible in the MSQ but just goes poof in every other scene.

That said, her fashion is INCREDIBLE and she gave us multiple incredible moments in the story. Walking out on the beauty pageant and still winning? King shit.

Character Accuracy to Their Arcana: Difficult to say since so much of Naoto's arc feels completely aborted. 4 out of 10 for what was actually on the screen canonically.

I don't have much to say for Yumi! Except in her final scene she sasses Reverie for running away from being her boyfriend, which is funny. ALSO SHE SAYS SHE'S GOING TO GO INTO POLITICS AND I LITERALLY SAID THAT WHEN WE FIRST MET, THAT SHE'D BE GREAT IN POLITICS? Holy shit what a called shot, go me.

But Yumi unfortunately innately suffers from being a Sun arcana after the shocking good and profound P3P Sun Slink. It was an impossible act to follow. She's fun tho! I liked her!

Character Accuracy to Their Arcana: eh. 3 out of 10. sorry.

God what a roller coaster of a pair.

Dojima was frankly a piece of shit for a LOT of this game, albeit a well-meaning one. The moment he sent Reverie after a crying Nanako rather than going himself really truly stressed my dedication to completing his SLink, I wanted to bail so badly. But his portrayal in the game is deeply sympathetic. The game is highly aware he's a fucking mess and a shit father, and it gives him space to become better. Which I like better than a hopeless case. It was real touch and go there for a while though.

Nanako really was the glue that held the plot together, wasn't she. It was kind of heavy-handed. Like, I didn't know what was going to happen to Nanako, but I did call very early that something was going to happen to her, to propel the plot. As this game's Justice Child, she's much weaker than Ken honestly and as much as it pains me to say, she should have been Temperance. There is very little judgement passed by her, there is no great clarity from her. She's a child, and she's wronged and neglected, and those things get better, but there is no recourse.

(Which is okay with me as a rehabilitationist myself.)

Character Accuracy to Their Arcana: VERY LOW FOR BOTH TBH. 2 out of 10. Dojima and the Fox should have swapped, I am dead serious.

okay i would have fucked this up but a friend told me i needed to say no here or i'd miss the true ending. it'll have to wait until tomorrow, as it is midnight and I gotta SLEEP.

tomorrow, we finish P4G.

#p4 #persona liveblog

[anthroparis]

thinking about how fucking good whip it is. oh my god. the way it represents femininity in such a humanizing way. the way it says that womanhood is subjective, that it's up to the individual to decide what being is a girl means to them. the way it tells us that femininity is not one thing, but a complex, layered subject, but it's also not the end-all. being a woman is infinite, it's layered, it's mixed, it's good and it's bad, it's messy and it's ugly, it's scary, but it's sacred- not in the mysterious way, but being a girl- whatever that means to you- is a relationship you build with yourself over time. it's not inherent. it's not set in stone. it's not a neat little list of traits you either meet or don't.

the scene where bliss is on the bus and there's an elderly woman who has blue hair. "I like your hair" "thanks, I do it myself!" the overwhelming sense of connection between two people who have nothing in common. the message that women don't just wilt to nothing when they age. the absolute beauty of individuality. the knowledge that women have always been defining themselves by their own standards, and always will. this scene alone carries 1000x more meaning and passion than anything that happened in the barbie movie.

the scene where maggie mayhem talks about her son. the message that motherhood is not the end of independence, that being a mom doesn't make you any less of a badass. the representation of girls who are not traditionally maternal breaking boundaries and being mothers, anyway.

bliss' entire arc. wanting to be herself. not wanting to be pressured into the traditional gender roles that dictate her life. going through heartbreak and realizing that it's not even close to the end of her story, because relationships don't define her. she's not a booksmart career woman, she's not a pageant queen, she's not a femme fatale, she's violent, she's messy, she gets ugly at times, she has no corporate dreams. she doesn't want to go to college, she wants to move to austin and do roller derby. the message that she is just as valuable and her dreams and wants are just as important as any other woman's.

this movie is so good. I love elliot page. I hope he knows that. I love drew barrymore too. thank you drew

[actuallysaiyan]

CONGRATULATIONS TO YOU 🎉

Nickname: Aerith

Pronouns: She/Him

Personality Traits: Religious, friendly, sweet, intelligent, creative, hyper (sometimes), thoughtful, giggly, clumsy, feisty, arrogant, mean-spirited, provocative, foul-mouthed, sarcastic, frightful, sensitive, bold, and savage

Personality Type: INFJ

Star sign: Libra sun, Sagittarius moon, Cancer rising, and Libra venus

Hobbies: Drawing, singing, dancing when nobody's around (I'm very bad at it), sharing nerdy or opinionated thoughts, walking like a model (if I ever feel so confident), sleeping, listening to music (from rock to kpop), chatting or blogging on Tumblr, watching videos on YouTube, making terrible jokes/puns, watching cartoons or beauty pageants [on YouTube], writing, reading interesting things, and conceptualizing my artworks.

Fandom: Naruto

Who do you love most in that fandom: Tenten, Itachi, Kaguya

Who do you hate in that fandom: Fūka

Would you rather be matched with a man or a woman: Man

Smut: Yes

Anyone you don't want to be matched with: Characters with HUGE age gaps (e.g. Madara and co.)

Ideal date: Late night drives + music + coffee or drive thru

My Life In...

Naruto

After some extensive research, we've concluded that you are best matched with... HIDAN! Congrats!

In this universe, you and Hidan are living your lives together, still being mercenaries. Still, the love that grew has become so strong now. Here's you love story...

Matched with: Hidan Skills/career: You’re part of the Akatsuki, and you have a kekkei genkai that allows you to use creative skills to be used as attacks. Song: God Only Knows by The Beach Boys Best Friends: Itachi, Kisame, DeidaraLove at first sight: Not exactly.

How you met:  You were inducted into the Akatsuki due to your village needing some protection. At first, you didn’t really like Hidan. He just rubbed you the wrong way. It became a little more obvious how alike you two could be when Itachi and Kisame pointed it out. Eventually, you found yourself drawn to Hidan. Something about his demeanor just slowly became endearing in a way. And soon you were grouped together with him and Kakuzu.

How you fell in love: It took a long time. But the more time you spent with him, you just couldn’t help falling for the guy. His smile became so infectious. And he showed such compassion whenever he was with you. You couldn’t help but think maybe he would become a little kinder, but it was mostly only to you. Hidan would do his best to finally get your attention. He fell for you hard, and the sweet little gestures he did for you made your heart race. After he started making grand gestures, it didn’t take long for you to finally admit you had a huge crush on him.

Your first date: Hidan waits until everyone is asleep, then he goes to your room. The two of you decide to head out into one of the nearby fields and look up at the stars. It’s a clear night, and he’s hoping everything will turn out perfectly. He has some drinks and a small picnic set up on a blanket. You’re  a little surprised to find how romantic Hidan is, but he confesses his feelings for you. What starts out as chaste kisses develops into some heavy making out. Hidan lets it stop there, and he is a gentleman through the whole date. It’s almost sunrise when the two of you go to bed.

Your first time being intimate: Hidan is used to having casual hookups, but with you, he knew it had to be different. He sets up his bedroom with nice lighting, scented candles and even some rose petals. It's romantic but Hidan still shows you how excited he can get. Still, the pleasure is all for you and Hidan does all he can to make sure you always cum first.

He presses a kiss to your lips, his long cock already deep inside of you. You don’t remember the last time someone fucked you. It was before you joined this little organization. What you do know, is that you’ve never been fucked by someone with as long a cock as Hidan. It reaches your cervix without even trying. He watches your face to make sure you aren’t in pain. Hidan knows he’s long, but he can make it feel good.

“You’re really fuckin’ tight,” Hidan finally breathes. Your silky walls are clamped down so tightly.

You blush, “Well it has been a while since I got laid.”

Hidan chuckles. He presses another kiss to your lips, and then he lets his lips trail down to your neck. He leaves soft lovebites, licking them after he’s done sucking on your tender flesh. The sweet moans you make just for him, it’s just driving him even more crazy. Hidan never wants this moment to end. He knows that he’s fallen for you completely.

“Pussy so good, makes me want to be a better man.”

Where are you now: You and Hidan actually defected from the Akatsuki, and the two of you decided to run away. You live far away from most people, in a small town together. The two of you are much happier this way, spending your days enjoying one another. You’re both still mercenaries, needing the money. But it’s not like the Akatsuki days. It’s just you and Hidan. Loving one another.

General headcanons: 

Hidan is a cuddler. He may not seem it at first, but he enjoys holding you in his arms and just having a few moments of silence. This is very rare, considering he’s always running his mouth.

He will protect you no matter what. Hidan has his faith, but he isn’t opposed to doing what he can to make sure you’re safe. He doesn’t like the idea of going against his beliefs, but for your sake, he would.

Hidan always enjoys making his favorite food with you. He’s not a bad cook, despite what you may think of him. He enjoys food enough to want to learn how to make it good.

He often gets into arguments and fights, so you might need to help him tone back the swearing if you can. Though, it may be fun to watch him get into fights.

Hidan loves spoiling you with gifts whenever he can. He’ll buy you all kinds of stuff. He’s pretty supportive of your hobbies and passions as well.

He still likes to take you out and look at the stars. It’s so beautiful and he can talk about all kinds of stuff whenever you’re together like this. If you draw the night sky, he will be so happy.

Sexy headcanons

The man is kind of a freak in the sheets. He fucks like he’s an animal in heat. It’s just one of his favorite things to do in the world.

He’s mentioned more than once he has a blood kink, but if you aren’t into it, he’ll leave it out of the bedroom. He wants you to be comfortable in the bedroom as well.

Hidan is a big fan of loving, mating press kind of sex too. Something about having you in that position really turns him on. Maybe because you’re so helpless beneath him.

Hidan loves it if you were to tug on his hair while he goes down on you. Clench your thighs around his face. Suffocate him. He can’t die anyway, so he wants to suffocate between your thighs.

He’s not against being tied up, or vice versa. He’s really into both, and he loves it if you were to blindfold him as well and tease him until he is just begging for pleasure.

He needs to cum inside of you. He’s got a huge cum fetish. He doesn’t care about getting you pregnant, it’s all about marking you up as his. It’s the sight of his seed leaking out of you that turns him on.

#bacon.writes #2k followers celebration #2k followers event #2k follower celebration #hidan #hidan x you #hidan x reader #hidan x y/n #hidan smut #hidan match up #naruto #naruto shippuden

[jellogram]

Review of the A&E JonBenet Ramsey documentary on Hulu and general case discussion below the cut.

First of all it's always nice when a true crime doc isn't shy about criticizing the police and discussing how they might have been blinded by a need to close the case. And the general harassment the family has gone through isn't fair, because I don't believe in harassing anyone involved in a crime regardless of their role in it. The media and the police both immediately decided the family killed their daughter in cold blood and they were made to suffer as if this was fact, and that was fucked up.

That said.

I don't like how the doc takes the DNA of an unknown male as evidence that the family is innocent. All that proves is that the stupid theory about the brother killing JonBenet likely isn't true, but there was never anything to suggest that anyway. The doc refutes some falsehoods, like the letter being definitely written by Patsy Ramsey, but it ultimately doesn't do enough to explain why the family should be exonerated.

There's a big difference between proving they didn't outright commit the murder themselves, and proving they weren't somehow complicit in what happened.

Because the story the doc tells doesn't make sense — if we take that DNA as the exoneration of the parents, the remaining details still don't fit together.

They're implying that someone broke into house, took JonBenet from her bed and dragged her into the basement, strangled and assaulted her, killed her, and then left without any signs of forced entry, without disturbing any part of the house at all, and without waking anyone, went over to a notepad and wrote a ransom note for the return of JonBenet, and then left, never to be heard from again.

The only way any of that makes sense is if the family knew someone was in the house and didn't intervene, which leads me to my theory.

As many have suggested, this was most likely a targeted attack based on JonBenet's publicity. So we have parents who've entered their child in the inherently exploitative and sexualizing industry of child beauty pageants, and a daughter who is quite successful and well-known for this. We have an unidentified male who was sexually assaulting JonBenet, and we have a situation where the parents simply had to know this man was in the house with her.

I think you can guess where I'm going with this.

I think they knew the man was alone with her. I don't know if they knew what he was doing with her, but I think they allowed him into the house to interact with her alone. I think it went badly and he killed her. But the parents knew if they pursued the killer they'd be exposed for having allowed him into the house, and possibly pimping their daughter out, depending on how dark you think their original plan was. They might have just meant to let him get a photo with her or something, I don't know, and I certainly wouldn't level these accusations at all if I had any kind of platform, but it's the only thing that makes sense to me.

I don't think the family murdered her, I don't think they killed her by accident, but I do think they know what happened. And even if you think the killer could have somehow snuck in and out of the house undetected, I believe the ransom note completely ruins that theory.

I find it painfully obvious that they wrote the note. They wrote $118,000 specifically to match John's Christmas bonus, because they thought it might lead the cops to suspect that was the motivation. Because it makes absolutely no sense for the killer to have left a note when they'd already killed the girl, left her body in their house, and made a clean getaway.

It makes no sense for him to demand only that much when they lived in a fancy house, it makes no sense that he wouldn't have also stolen anything if money was his goal, it makes no sense to imply that a simple Christmas bonus would have been the motivation when JonBenet was high profile, sexualized, and sexually assaulted. Clearly she was the target.

In conclusion: I think this doc does a good job explaining how the media firestorm around the case was harmful, and how cops can be blinded to other possibilities once they get a hunch. I think it's good that something shows the parents' perspective, given that no one knows anything for sure and 99% of case coverage is against them.

I do however think it goes too hard trying to defend the family and ends up doing exactly what they criticize the cops for: becoming so deadset on their narrative that they become blinded to the evidence right in front of them.

[bakugosbratx]

Request: Hi! I was wondering if you could write a story when y/n is the crazy one and kidnaps Bakugo. Tysm ! -meena

Warnings: NSFW 18+ Content. Yandere, stalking, kidnapping, cursing, mental illness, blood, abuse, drugs, etc.

Check out my other works here

A/N: Hmm this is a different turn of events. I love it 👀 I hope you enjoyed anon! I went a little wild with this one.

Words: 2.2k

Tags: @awilddreamerwrites @peachsenpie @miriobaby @lanarist @sickchildren @bakugousbrat @ssplague @ahbeautifulexistence @m779 @vinny-likes-to-play21

“Dear Katsuki,

I watched you save a civilian on television today. I know it’s your job and all, but you did not have to save her. Her life is not as important as mine. Do you not cherish what we have? Am I just a nobody to you? This is my 103rd letter to you and still no response. I know your address did not change so do not give me that pathetic excuse, Katsuki Bakugo. Surely, you must remember we are soulmates. We are one. How dare you fucking forget me? I had to rip all of my posters down in a fit of rage. You know how angry that makes me, baby, but it will all be okay, because you are coming home to me. We will be one.

Sincerely,

Yours.”

You burst into a fit of giggles as you kick your bare feet back and forth on his bed. You wrote in black ink and covered the paper in orange hearts since it is the pro-hero’s favorite color. You could not help but leave precious lipstick kisses on the page. Something you always do in your love letters to Katsuki. The posters in your house are covered in them. Katsuki’s beautiful face is just so kissable. You cannot wait to do it tonight.

All you can think about is Katsuki. That is all your day consists of. Your clothing is all his merchandise and his favorite colors. You spend hours upon hours watching interviews, videos, surveillance footage of the hero. When he is out on patrol, you do your best to hide in areas so you can see the hero up close and personal. Your face just beams with joy at the mere glance of him.

You did your best to meet him several times. Any disaster there was to be had, you put on your nicest attire, do your make-up just how you think he likes, and have your hair freshly done. No better way to greet your significant other after hero work than looking like a beauty pageant queen.

Sadly, all your attempts were failures. Katsuki did not even give you the time of day. He is way too focused on beating the villains to a pulp. You did admire this about him, but your own selfish desires created hatred in you. He should be paying attention to you. Not those pesky villains.

Katsuki is sure to receive forty-five letters addressing the issue. All that he will never even skim over. This is only adding fuel to the fire.

The posters that hang in every single room in your apartment are ripped to shreds. Pools of tears covered your orbs, smudging all of your makeup. You climbed onto your black sofa, taking your left high heel and breaking the glass photo of Katsuki hanging there. Shards of glass sprinkle the couch and hardwood floor below. You don't even care for the pieces that collected into your skin. You will worry about that later.

“Fuck you, Katsuki!” You sobbed, ripping his face with your teeth and spitting out the saliva covered photo onto the litter filled floor.

“Pro-Hero Great Explosion Murder God Dynamite saves another civilians life yet again, taking down another member of the league of villains who was terrorizing the victim.”

The news anchor’s words fell on deaf ears as you went to the television screen. You are captivated by your significant other’s beauty on the tv. Blood leaked from your freshly manicured hands. They are painted orange and black as always.

“Oh, Katsuki,” you sighed with a smile, tracing a heart around his face with your leaking blood, “we will be together soon. I promise, baby. I’ll take you away from this sick, cruel world so we can live happily ever after.”

You were serious that day. You planned it on your calendar. The countdown began on the night you are going to be one with Katsuki. A day you knew you both looked forward to.

“Dear Katsuki,

Did you miss me? I know I missed you. I even stamped this letter in my blood so you can have my DNA to mix with yours. I can’t wait to procreate with you. We will make such wonderful babies, don’t ya think? They will be so beautiful like you. I will be such an excellent mother. No woman can be a great wife to you like I can. Do you understand me?”

You had to pause writing as your blood started to boil at the thought. Your pen is already creating a huge ink spot from the anger consuming your hands. Small growls escaped your parted lips as you began to growl.

“If I can’t have you, no one can, Katsuki Bakugo. I am your one true love. You're one and only. And I’ll make sure that day comes. Just a few more days, baby, and we will be one.

Sincerely,

Yours.”

The day finally came. You knew Katsuki’s schedule by heart. You loved watching him do his morning routines with the security cameras you placed in his home. The poor male never even thought to check. Such a mistake on his part. It only confirmed he needed protection from the world. Only you can provide that. Sure, you may be quirkless, but no one knows Katsuki like you do. No one can love him like you. He knows this. He has to.

You drew a luke-warm bubble bath with nice lit candles, rose pedals, a few drops of your blood, and some freshly made desserts for you both to enjoy while you catch up. You are even so kind enough to fetch him a beer or two so he can relax. You know how he enjoys his alcoholic beverages after a long day of hero work.

You rested on his bed. The natural caramel scent engulfed your nostrils as you wrote letters into your notebook once more. Even when you two are officially together forever, you still love to write out your thoughts. You know he enjoys them as well.

Hours upon hours passed. Frustration arose overtime. You did not want to be angry with your spouse, but he knows better than to be home late on your special day. You have almost filled up your notepad with phrases upon phrases of ‘I love you’s’ and sweet nothings. Along with other things.

You tapped your bandages covered foot on the ground as you began to pace. “What is taking him so long?” You huffed aloud, growing more impatient by each passing second. The bath is beginning to become cold and that is just rude in your opinion. You decided to write out your emotions.

“Dear Katsuki,

What the fuck is taking you so long, huh? It’s so fucking aggervating and just plain rude. I have done so much for you only to toss me to the side like I’m nothing. Are you cheating on me? I do not tolerate disrespect, Katsuki Bakugo. You are going to make me mean and you know I hate being mean to you. You just make me jealous, baby. You know how you do that to me. Make me feel all types of emotion I can’t seem to understand, but one thing is for certain is that you and I will be together.

Sincerely,”

You did not even get to finish your final entry as you hear the front door downstairs unlock. Scrambling to put the diary away, you gather the necessary items from under the bed and wait for the perfect moment to strike. Katsuki’s natural loud ways was helping you locate his every move without even having to look at security footage.

All you have to do is be patient.

Katsuki sat on the couch, propping his sock-covered feet onto the glass coffee table and turning on the television. You allowed him some moments to get settled before gently tip-toeing down the stairs, rope, duct tape, and a blunt object ready in hand.

Just as Katsuki turned to acknowledge your presence, the crowbar hit his head, knocking him unconscious. You quickly attend to his wound — not without dropping some droplets of blood into his — so it does not get offended. You cannot have your husband getting an infection.

You tie up his hands and legs, duct tape his mouth after delivering kisses to his perfectly plump lips, and drag him to the kitchen. You did not realize how much your lover really weighed. Too much time was wasted dragging him to the fridge than preferred, but it will all be worth it in the end. You know it will be.

Katsuki did not wake up until the next day. You stayed by his side the whole time, telling him about your day and how much you have planned for you two. Of course, he needs to build his trust with you. You love a very intelligent man and the last thing you need is for him to be against you.

Slowly opening his crimson eyes, his attention is brought to a grinning you. Katsuki immediately attempts to escape the captivity he is in, but it is no use. You just had to buy special rope that cancels quirks.

“Struggle all you want, Katsuki-poo. There is no escaping me.” You chuckled, loving the way he squirmed and furrowed his eyebrows at you. All of his curses are mumbled by the tape which is probably the best considering you did not want to be insulted right now.

“When you calm down, I’ll take off the tape.” You bargained, shrugging nonchalantly as you kneel in front of the man. Did this calm him down? No. You know it wouldn’t regardless. You know Katsuki better than he knows himself yet you already want to push his buttons. The way he gets so angry turns you on and you can’t just help yourself but want more.

After a couple of hours of Katsuki complaining and you writing even more in your diary, he decided to calm down. This made you happy. You wanted to hear his beautiful gruff voice.

Grabbing the corner of the tape, you rip it off. Katsuki is already barking insults. “Are you fucking insane? Who the hell even are you? This isn’t going to end well with you, you psycho bit—“

A hard slap to his face interrupted Katsuki’s spill. Along with the duct tape you placed back on his mouth. “Such a meanie,” you pout, “and here I was about to be so nice to you.”

This cycle repeated itself for three days. You never left his side once. How could you? He is obviously in distress. He needs you by his side. He cannot do anything without you. Especially with his hands tied behind his muscular back. Katsuki finally decided that playing the game is the only way to win it.

You ripped the tape off once again. Katsuki did not even speak this time. “Did you learn your lesson?” You quizzed with an arched brow. “Y’know being a meanie is not going to get you anywhere, Katsukikins.”

“Why are you doing this?” Katsuki inquired, his gruff voice sounding so weak and hollow. You almost felt bad.

“You’re so silly, Suki. C’mon,” you brought your lips close to his, “gimme a kiss.”

Reluctantly, Katsuki did as instructed. Considering you are straddling his lap and his powers are useless, he has no choice in the matter. You loved the compliance.

“Good boy.” You praised, ruffling his messy blonde hair. Katsuki glared at you. “Will you be good and eat some food for me?”

“I don’t want your stupid ass food.” Katsuki growled, laying his head against the bottom freezer of his fridge.

“Nonsense, Suki.” You giggled, feeling extremely joyful to be with Katsuki. You bring a spoon of Miso soup up to his closed lips, “have some. I blew on it so it’s not too hot.”

“Get that trash away from me, you idiot—“ Katsuki was interrupted by a spoon entering his mouth. Though he would hate to admit this, the soup tasted delicious and he is quite hungry. He put up a fight, but allowed you to feed him properly until every drop was gone. Unfortunately, Katsuki is unaware that the soup is drugged until it’s too late.

His body began to feel numb. He did not even have the strength to ask questions as his eyes became drowsy. Soon, he is slumped over, sound asleep as you manage to drag him up the stairs and into your shared bed.

Planting kisses all over structures, you tuck him in and finish some late night entries in your diary. Skimming through them all and reflecting on how you got here now, it made you smile. Progress has been made and will continue to do so.

Signing off on the final page, you write:

“Dear Katsuki,

These past three days have been exhilarating. I see it in your terrified eyes how happy you are that I am here. I know how much you missed me. I missed you, too, baby. We will continue to grow and soon, we will have children. I even have my menstrual cycle all planned out. I am all yours and you’re all mine. Can’t you see, baby doll? We are forever meant to be.

Sincerely,

Yours.”

©bakugosbratx

All Rights Reserved

#tw blood #tw yandere #tw kidnapping #tw injury #tw stalking #bakugosbratx #bratx request #bakugo x yandere reader #katsukibakugou #yandere my hero academia #yandere bakugou #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugō #submission #bakugo x you

[soliverse]

Beautiful/Dirty/Rich (teaser)

reader x nct’s china line (wayv + renjun and chenle)

senator!kun

bodyguards!winwin and lucas

tabloid reporter!renjun

(the rest of the other members’ roles will be revealed in the main fic)

genre: smut, angst, romance, dark comedy

(I still haven’t decided to make it a series or post it as a full-length fic. help me decide)

warnings (for this teaser): media manipulation, a curse word (because this is a soliverse fic)

word count for teaser: 801

synopsis: You’ve managed to bag a Senator for a husband, dragging into the chaotic world of politics. You’ve learned that the best thing about being a powerful man’s wife is you get to share the power with him.

inspiration:

Loosely based on Crazy Rich Asians, the song Beautiful, Dirty, Rich by Lady Gaga, irl politics because that is a mess by itself.

networks:

@nctcreations @kdiarynet @kpopscape @kwritersworld @neowritingsnet @czennienet @nct-writers

///

People say that there are three easy ways to get a better life: be born into a wealthy family, marry rich, and be a politician.

Your engagement with Qian Kun just completed your trifecta.

As your country’s representative to the world’s biggest beauty pageant, you’ve managed to catch the eyes of men looking to get their hands on you. 

You got actors, athletes, models. But all of them are such a bore. What they wanted is someone to show off with, a temporary arm candy to boost their popularity and masculinity.

And then you met a Senator, who promised you the world the second that he laid his eyes on you.

And last night, you finally made it official. Your publicist and his managers made sure to let every media outlet know about the surprise engagement. It was ridiculous enough to spread like a rumor, and that it was from an anonymous source, but everything was going according to plan.

It was the morning after and everyone has been either blowing up your phone to get a hold of you or has been hogging Kun’s secretary for hours now.

Who wouldn’t? It’s always a scandal whenever a public figure dates a fellow public figure, even more so when she’s half his age.

Everybody needs the scoop, and they need it now.

The paparazzi flocked in front of the studio that you’re supposed to work today. Cameras are already flashing even before you step out the vehicle. But one thing that you like about your future hubby is that he always planned ahead. 

As an early wedding gift, he gave you his most trusted bodyguards. 

One of them is Sicheng, as they call him. The guy means business, and can be described as a man of few words. He rarely ever talked to anyone, mostly sending his orders to the other bodyguard, another tall gent called Lucas, and he would be the one explaining to you what to do.

Upon looking at the crowd outside, everyone realized that the crowd was even denser than what you initially expected. Sicheng acts right away, motioning Lucas to lend his ear to whisper something. 

You found out soon after that it was for Lucas to explain the new security plan to your team of stylists. He enthusiastically explained the procedure in full detail how everything should go before facing the media. With him are two other men, the names must’ve slipped from your head, but you know they’re just as reliable. They are there to protect the Senator’s future wife, after all.

“Ma’am, are you ready?”

Sicheng asked you from the backseat, preparing themselves for the outpour of media outside.

“Ready when you are.” You grinned as Lucas finally opened the door for you, drowning you with the sounds of camera shutters and the buzzing of their voices, trying so desperately to get a statement from you.

With your rehearsed beauty queen smile, you managed to wave at everyone, making sure that everyone gets a glimpse of your expensive engagement ring while your bodyguards try their best to control the crowd.

Questions are being thrown at you left and right.

Is it true that your father bribed the judges so you’ll win the pageant?

People think that you’ve been dating Senator Kun for at least a year now. Are you the reason for him and Mrs. Qian’s divorce?

You’re just the same age as the Senator’s youngest kid, what do they say about this?

You’re used to them by now, so you just let them fly over you. After all, they’re just baseless accusations. At least that’s what they think it is.

However, one reporter in particular piqued your interest. A male voice managed to pierce through the chaos and reached your head just in time before you entered the building.

“How does it feel being the Senator’s new slut?”

You stopped on your tracks and turned around as gracefully as you can, turning your gaze to the familiar voice that asked you a question.

It was Huang Renjun, still the asshole that he is, gripping the camera hard while glaring at you in disgust.

Your smile grew wider, making the decision to hide yourself on Lucas torso, but leaving enough space so he could see you mouthing your response.

“Fuck offf, Huang Renjun”

You didn’t wait for his answer and walked away with your head held high, doing your best to not to lose the smile and the attitude. It wasn’t time to let them know the details yet. They just got to have to keep on begging you for more.

This is your new life after all, and you’ve asked for it. It’s better to develop a thick skin from now on, or the world you’re about to enter will eat you alive.

=

taglist: @johnyusangel

#nctcreations #kdiarynet #kpopscape #kwritersworldnet #neowritingsnet #czennet #nct-writers #nct #nct smut #wayv #wayv smut #nct dream #kun #ten #winwin #lucas #xiaojun #hendery #yangyang #renjun #chenle

[iamkidfish]

Why Shelby’s teeth works so well as a metaphor for her sexuality

I know this has been talked about a lot but I got sent an ask that made me have a Shelby breakdown so I just thought I’d add my two cents :’)

It’s pretty clear Shelby’s sexuality is linked with her teeth. She says that her flipper is something that holds back all this “ugliness”-referencing the expectations of her life, her internalized homophobia from her father, and the guilt she feels over Becca’s death. That’s a lot of emotional weight packed into a tiny little piece of plastic, but it makes sense.

1. Expectations/Performance: Very quickly into Shelby’s episode, we see how ‘fake’ she really is. (By fake, I mean conforming to the expectations her family and life has provided to her as a means of self-preservation and survival) The pageants, the boyfriend, her teeth are all ‘given’ to her as things she is expected to perform under or with but Shelby’s compliance is a double edged sword: it allows her a safety net (to play a ‘role’ in her family/community but still have these feelings for her best friend) but it’s also the rope that’s constricting her

Does Shelby even like pageants? We know she’s good at them but why did she start competing in the first place? Was it Dave, who saw some early signs of Shelby liking girls and forced her to participate in one of the most gendered things in existence? Or does Shelby put herself into that environment willingly, knowing how she feels about Becca (or girls in general) as a way to shove down her feelings?

We know Shelby is perceptive of these expectations because she lays them all out in her argument with Toni in episode: “I’m not just talking about pageant stuff”. The first time Shelby kisses Becca she’s in a pageant dress (another thing symbolizing her expectations); the first time she kisses Toni, they’re literally talking about expectations in Shelby’s life-”You’re free here Shelby, On an island a million miles away from whatever bullshit expectations and if you’re not taking advantage of that, I don’t know what the fuck to tell you”. Also important: both of these scenes/kisses have a fallout; the first being the marker on Shelby’s dress (and her father noticing the mark and the kiss) and then Shelby literally running away from Toni in the second scene (and running back to expectations/role she’s known her whole life).

It’s also important to note: Shelby’s line to Martha in the pilot “I do family, I do jesus, I do pageants.” those are the three things that are actually harming her/forcing her into these boxes. 

2. Dave Goodkind and internalized homophobia: Oh Dave...nothing like giving your kid years of trauma

Jokes aside, this is the most obvious connection between Shelby’s flipper and her sexuality. It’s mentioned in the show that Shelby first gets her fake teeth when she’s 11 and that’s a long time for her to link all of her insecurities and doubts and negative self-image to her retainer. I’m not completely sure but I think it can be easily interpreted that’s when Shelby realized she liked girls (or at least Becca)

Remember, Dave tells Shelby “God only does beautiful” after her parents initially say no to getting the permanent implants and I’m willing to bet that’s something he started to tell her when she first realized she needed the implants at 11.

It’s only until after Dave catches her kissing Becca that he starts to talk about “fixing” things

(Another important note: the scene where Shelby confronts her father about the kiss, he’s on the treadmill and in the very first scene we see of Shelby’s flashback, Dave is leading the cycling class. Exercise is another motif that is present during Shelby’s episode that relates back to the idea of image/appearance/expectations)

Dave tells Shelby “I still pray for everyone even if they don’t deserve it, even if they can’t be saved” and this is the first moment where it all crashes down. This is when his narrative changes and he changes what he’s telling Shelby to fit the narrative he has constructed.

So he decides to attack Shelby at her most vulnerable: the night she wins the pageant competition which, subsequently, is also the night she finds out that Becca has died. I’ve decided there is no way that Shelby’s parents (at least Dave) don’t know about Becca’s death. Other than the fact that they’re living in a small, conservative, religious Texas town, Shelby’s mom mentions Becca’s ‘mental health problems’, making it clear the news got out into the community, even if Becca’s parents tried to keep it under wraps.

Dave only mentions the possibility of Shelby getting permanents after the pageant competition, when he knows that Becca is dead, which is interesting to me. Obviously there could have been other times he mentioned it, but the writers’ specifically chose to include it in that scene, emphasizing the metaphor of Shelby’s sexuality being linked to her teeth. Dave is telling her “look, Becca’s death is your fault, the relationship that has been broken to the most extreme, these things are fixable. and you will be fixed.”

Again the metaphor is basically confirmed with the order of scenes in Shelby’s episode. Dave continues to push Shelby into getting the permanents, even after Shelby’s mother looks shocked and protests, saying “if it can be fixed, the pain is worth it”. I think in the very next interview scene Shelby tells Faber and Young that she had “very different plans” for the summer and she also has her flipper still (and it’s still cracked), signifying Dave’s plan for her conversion didn’t work. Assuming that’s how Gretchen marketed it to him for him to agree to send her.

I know there are also some theories around saying that Dave is also gay but went through some kind of conversion therapy, from the way he talks to Shelby, and with all the metaphor about the teeth being genetic-I couldn’t find the post but thought that was interesting to add. 

3. Guilt about Becca’s death

Oops this is getting long so I’ll make this short. 

But Shelby tells everyone that know one else knows about her flipper, except in the flashback scene where Shelby kisses Becca, Dave invites her to stay for dinner. Obviously this had a double meaning, but what’s important is that it’s casual and feels authentic, like it’s been happening for a long time. And why shouldn’t it, Becca and Shelby have been friends for years, of course Becca is going to eat dinner with Shelby’s family. So she has also seen Shelby’s flipper/knows about her teeth. 

There’s a lot to be said about the parallels of Toni and Becca both telling Shelby that they “see” her in someway but for me, the most important part is after Leah accuses Shelby of being the spy in ep 7. Both Toni and Becca, the only two people who Shelby has confided in her feelings with/kissed and know about her teeth, say that “see” her. 

Shelby tells Toni, it’s “just another reason to hate me, not that you need any more” connecting back to the conversation she had with Becca on the porch, and you realize that, through the connection, Shelby fully blames herself for Becca’s death and feels as if Becca hates her, because, she believes, Toni does too.

#the wilds #the wilds headcanon #shelby goodkind #shelby goodkind character study #toni shalifoe #toni x shelby #shoni #becca gilroy #shelby x becca #don't talk to me im emotionally about shelby again

[mediocre-writerr]

i lived [leah rilke]

leah rilke x fem reader

requested: Woooow feel something was literally the best thing ever. Could I pretty please request a third part (most angsty) where reader gets herself in the worst situation possible and her condition is so bad (her heart stops beating) once Shelby finds her, she’s hyserical and doesn’t realize she has to perform CPR so Leah being the protective girlfriend but if not evenly even more worried than Shelby does CPR and tells her not to give up. Later while they’re all taking care of reader and watching her sleep off the pain they talk about how much they mean to her (especially Shelby and Leah) this would be the best thing ever 😭😭

thank you guys so much for all the love on my leah imagine and just all my imagines in general! i’m going a bit out of order with these requests but this caused inspiration to strike. i’ll be back back on track soon, coming out with a shelby one next! but yeah i’m so happy you’re loving them! and i hope you enjoy!

Pt.1 & Pt.2

*not my gif*

Ironic isn’t it? Even though you’re taught at a young age to carry love in your heart, but in reality it could kill you.

“Where are you going?” Leah asks softly as you stood up from the sand.

You brushed off your pants before answering, “I’m just gonna go for a walk. See if I can find anything on the shore. Would you like to come?” 

It was a hotter day than usual out on the island. Sweat beads were forming on the top of your hairline. All of the girls seemed to be out of energy from the burning sun that laid upon the nine of you.

“Mmm no. I would much rather stay here in the shade, you could stay with me too. You don’t have to scavenge every hour of the day.” she says, grabbing your hand to try and pull you back towards her.

You smile at her softly, kissing her hand, “I’ll be back. It won’t take long.” you say.

She pouts, but you just chuckle before placing a soft kiss to her lips. 

Before you went off on the little voyage, you checked up on your blonde best friend, “How’s the leg?” you ask, examining the jacket bandage you made for her out of your own jacket.

“I’ve had better days.” she replies with a shrug.

“I’m sorry. But I know it’ll be healed up sooner than later, but until then you know you always have me to lean on.” you say, smiling at her, “I’m heading out to the shore to see if anything comes up, you’re free to join me whenever.” 

“I will later. Thank you.” Shelby says with a smile matching your own.

“Anytime.” 

And then you were off, walking slowly along the beach shore to see if anything washed up. It was nice though. 

The peace and quiet. The soft wet sand in between your toes as the cool water occasionally lapped over them. It was a nice distraction from the burning sensation that occurred in your chest or when you breathed.

It started after you went to save Shelby. And you just thought it would go away on its own, but it’s been almost 24 hours now and it wasn’t going away. But rather it got worse.

Each breath you took felt like you just ran a mile. But you didn’t want to worry the girls. They’ve already been worried sick about you and all of the stunts you pull. This doesn’t need to be another thing they’re worried about. 

You let out a fit of cough. The cough seemed to have lasted forever, but it finally stopped when you spat out a loogie. It wasn’t any loogie though, blood was on the yellow sand and you just stared at it in shock. Unsure of what to do.

You were about to start heading back when you noticed a bag at the end of the shoreline.

One last trek. We’ll bring the bag back and relax for a couple days. 

As you start walking to the bag, you can feel your heart rate rising even higher with each step. And it felt like you were walking on walls as the whole world seemed to spin faster and faster. 

All of your senses were heightened. The smell of the sea water invaded your senses. A ringing sensation filled your eardrums making it impossible to hear anything else.

“Leah...” you whisper before the bright blue sky went black.

Shelby decided to take your offer and go walk along the shore with you. Despite the pain in her leg, she thought it would be nice to walk around with her best friend. 

You’ve been so focused on not dying that you haven’t had time to just sit and talk.

Shelby misses going bowling and drinking 7/11 slurpees in the parking lot with you every Friday night. 

Or you coming to her beauty pageants even though you hated the idea of them. You wanted to come to just support her.

The two of you haven’t even thought about what you should do when you get back. There was Shelby and Toni and you and Leah. If news got out about that back home, you’d be burnt at the stake.

But the two of you don’t care anymore. 

Shelby look down at the shore to try and get a peek of how far you went. Until she sees a body was lying still face down towards the end of the shoreline. 

“Y/N?” Shelby mumbles quietly to herself.

She makes a full 360 trying to find any sign of her best friend. But came out empty. 

“No.” she mumbles and took off running.

Despite how terrible her leg felt she had to get to you. 

Shelby reaches your lifeless body and scooped you into her arms. She cradles you into her lap and cups your cheek gently.

“Y/N? Hey, hey...” Shelby whispers and your eyes flutter open for just a second.

“Shelb?” I whisper softly.

“Hey it’s me. What’s going on?” she ask frantically.

“There’s something wrong,” you mumble softly, “I’m scared.” 

“No, no, no,” she murmured, “You’re just tired and it’s hot out. You’re just exhausted. Remember that plane? It’s gonna come and we’re-we’re gonna get out of here. Together.” 

You brush her hair from out of her face, before smiling softly, “I think it’s more than exhaustion, blondie. I don’t know what’s wrong or how much time I have with whatever-”

“No,” Shelby says forcefully, “No, you can’t die. We’re supposed to go home together.” 

“I know, but each second that passes by it’s becoming harder and harder to breathe.” I whisper in between raspy breath. 

“We’re supposed to go back to Texas, graduate, and move the hell out of that place. We can get an apartment with Toni and Leah. And we’ll finally be happy. We don’t have to worry about our terrible parents or some higher standard. It’ll be us just like we always planned. Y/N, please. You can’t go.” I rant to her, telling her about the life we could have out of our normal lives.

“I’m right here,” you told her shakily, wanting to be brave for her, “Are-are you crying?”

You reached up to touch her face, and sure enough there were tears dripping down her cheeks.

“I-I haven’t seen you cry since-,” you say trying to finish the rest of your sentence, but as time goes by you could feel your heart slowing down, “Since Becs died.” 

“Please,” Shelby begged, grabbing your hand tightly, “Please...we need to go home.” 

“You’re...you’re the best friend I ever had,” you whisper, your breathing starting to come in short gasps, “My sister for a lifetime, I love you. And I need you to keep living the way you’re living right now. No expectations. Just be you. Tell Leah that I love he-”

You let out a harsh choking sound as you went limp in her body. Your heavy eyes now closed. 

Shelby places her fingers on your pulse point. Come on Y/N. Please.

“Please God. Don’t take Y/N away from me. You already took Becs. Please don’t take her. She’s all I have left.” she sobs out.

You had no pulse. Nothing. There’s nothing!

“Dot! Leah! Someone help!” Shelby yells as loud as she possibly could. 

The rest of the girls could hear her pleads from the campsite. All of them took one look at each other before taking off running towards her yelling. 

When the rest of the girls reach the shore. Shelby still has you scooped up into her lap. Leah let out a small gasp running to your side immediately.

“What’s wrong?” Toni asks.

Shelby was struggling for the words to say, “She uh she just...her heart just stopped. I found her collapsed on the floor and she was here...she was just talking to me and then she was-”

“We need to start CPR!” Nora says getting everyone’s attention.

Leah scooped you out of her arms and placed you flat on the floor. Tears falling down her cheeks onto your chest as she started doing the compressions. 

Toni took Shelby into her arms, trying her best to soothe her best friend. 

“Come on Y/N! You promised me! You told me you weren’t gonna leave me!” she yells.

Her compressions going out of rhythm, “Leah, you’re not doing it right. It’s not gonna help her if you can’t do it right!” Rachel yells, “Move!”

Rachel was about to start taking over when Shelby got out from Toni’s arms, “No I can do it!” 

“Are you sure?” Toni asks her girlfriend softly and Shelby just nods.

Rachel pushed Leah off of your body despite her screaming protests. Fatin pulls Leah into her arms. Leah’s head rested on Fatin’s chest as she ran her hands through Leah’s hair. 

Shelby’s compressions were surprisingly calm and even despite the sobs coursing through her body.

“You do not get to save everyone and not let us save you. Do you hear me?” Shelby whispers to you softly. 

Leah crawls out of Fatin’s lap and places herself lying next to you on the ground. She ran her fingers through your hair and placed her nose up against your cheek. 

Shelby was at for a long time. And at that point everyone started to lose hope that you were gone.

“Please Y/N. I’m not ready to say goodbye. We have a whole future left outside of this fucking island. Stay for me.” Leah pleads. 

Your eyes shoot open and your gasping for breath. Everyone releases a sigh of relief. All of the girls had tears on their cheeks, all of them thinking the worst. 

“You’re okay!” Shelby lets out a sob as she immediately leans down to hold you. You wrap your arms around your blonde best friend holding her as tight as possible, “You can’t die.” she whispers. 

“I’m right here Shelb. I’m not going anywhere. I promise.” you say, your voice raspy and tired. 

“Dude you really need to stop dying. It’s getting a little old.” Toni says, trying to ease the tense silence.

You laugh softly before giving her a fist bump. All of the girls stared at you with relieved smiles on their faces. Dot, Fatin, and Rachel gave you high fives and fist bumps. But much to your surprise Nora leaned down herself to hug you.

You turn your head slightly to face Leah, her nose still against your cheek not wanting to open her eyes. If she opened her eyes she would wake up and it would be just this sick dream. 

You rested your forehead on hers, the tip of her nose touching yours ever so slightly. 

“Hey, look at me.” you whisper and her deep blue eyes finally stare right back at you.

She smiles softly, before cries shake throughout her body. Her soft hand goes to cup your cheek, pulling your face unbelievably closer to yours. You weakly reach out your hand and wipe away the tears that were falling. 

“You’re still here?” she says, but it comes more out like a question.

“I promised, didn’t I?” you reply, before kissing her softly. 

When you broke apart Shelby scooped you up in her arms yet again carrying you bridal style. 

“Shelb, I can walk.” you say.

But she just shakes her head, her perfect smile appearing on her face, “I don’t care. I’m gonna carry you back.” 

All of the girls walk back to the camp. Leah sits down right next to where Shelby laid you gently on the floor. You rested your head on her lap as you could feel sleep slowly lull you into dreamland. 

The burning sun was now setting and the orange hue of the fire lit up the deep blue night sky. You were still fast asleep on Leah’s lap, soft snores coming from your mouth.

“You know she’s almost died 6 times?” Nora says, speaking up as all of you sat there in silence drinking your Diet Cokes. 

“How do you know that?” Dot asks, surprised at how she can keep track of all of it. 

“I journaled it. The first time was the plane crash, then the mirror, the overexertion, saving Fatin, saving Shelby, and then right now.” Nora rambles, showing us the chart she made.

“She really put herself before the group.” Rachel whispers, shaking her head, “I remember when I had my period accident on Dot, she came to talk to me. She made me a makeshift tampon out of her shorts. She literally cut off pieces of her shorts to make me a tampon.” 

Everyone laughs at the fond memory. Leah was there running her hands through your hair lightly, careful not to wake you up. 

“Besides totally saving me from getting stranded in the middle of the ocean. When I was super thirsty because of the Takis, she gave me her water and let me take a few sips. She never got on me about not doing anything.” Fatin says smiling at your sleeping figure.

“And one day we played this cool game where we would pass the journal back and forth only making one line to create a drawing. It was beautiful.” Nora says softly, showing everyone the abstract drawing the two of you made together.

“We went exploring one day and I never told you guys this, but my pants ripped,” Dot begins to say and everyone bursts out into laughter.

“No way!” Toni exclaims, but Dot just nods with a smile on her face.

“Yeah and after laughing for a little bit, she took off her jacket and wrapped it around my waist so no one would notice.” Dot replies smiling a little bit, “Not only that, but back home when my dad was sick, she would stop by every other week to check on him and bring food.” 

“She did that?” Shelby asks.

Dot nods softly, a sad smile on her face, “He left an impression on her after our league soccer days. So when she found out, she wanted to visit him and make him feel normal.” 

“Wow.” Shelby mumbles, surprised at her best friend antics.

“When Marcus disappeared, I got a little sadder than I was supposed to about a mannequin. So she took the time to make a sandman to replace him. It was just a snowman made of sand and it was washed away by the tide shortly after. But it was the thought that counts.” Martha says and everyone’s faces were lit up by smiles.

Toni wrapped her arm around Shelby’s waist pulling her in a little closer, “One time we went scavenging together. And I told her about my basketball and how I used to play and she got so excited for some reason. In the middle of the jungle we played a small game with a rock and an empty Diet Coke can we had. I won, obviously.” 

“Back home, we went to the 7/11 we always go to every Friday night. And I didn’t have my teeth in because I was eating. Then a bunch of girls from our school came by and saw the dentures lying on the hood of her car. They started making fun of them asking who’s they were. And Y/N flat out said it was hers. No hesitation because she knew how insecure I was of them.” Shelby whispers shaking her head and smiling at the fond memory.

“I remember that! Everyone was calling her grandma, they still do...” Dot says.

“Yeah. She really took one for the team there, but she never expected anything back. She just did it, to do it.” she says softly, before clearing her throat, “And when our friend Becs died, Y/N made a whole concert filled with terrible dancing and singing for me because I wasn’t doing well mentally. It was the best concert I have ever been to.” she whispers.

She cleared her throat again, trying to fight back the tears, “She’s my best friend. She’s like a sister to me and without her, I don’t know what I’d do. Out of the gifts God has given me, I think Y/N is the best one ever. She’s a literal angel on Earth.”

“Well, I met Y/N at a strange time in my life. I wasn’t doing well mentally. And she may not have saved my life physically. But mentally she did. It’s like she just came out of nowhere, an angel in this fucked up island.” Leah begins, smiling down at the girl in front of her, “There was this time where I was on the verge of having a mental breakdown and she sang me a random song that she came up with in her head.” 

“Was it the one that went: dinosaurs eating people, dinosaurs in love...” Fatin starts singing.

Leah nods softly, “Dinosaurs having a party. They eat fruit and cucumber. They fell in love. They say “Thank you.” A big bang came, and they died. Dinosaurs dinosaurs fell in love. But they didn’t say goodbye. But the didn’t say good...BYE!” All of the girls sing loudly at the top of their lungs.

“I think after she sang that to you, she sang it to all of us when we were down on ourselves.” Rachel says and everyone smiles at the stupid song.

“God I’m so thankful for her. I think I would’ve actually lost my mind.” Leah whispers before placing a kiss onto your forehead.

“You’re so whipped.” Toni says teasing the other brunette.

“I know.” Leah replies, accepting the truth.

There was a comfortable silence that hung over the group. As they sat back and reflected on their time here in the island.

“Honestly, I don’t think we’d be here without our very own Supergirl.” Dot says and all of the girls nod in agreement.

“To Supergirl!” Toni says, raising her Diet Coke up in the air.

“To Supergirl!” The rest of the girls yell as they all raise their cans in the air.

#leah rilke #leah rilke imagine #leah rilke x reader #the wilds #the wilds imagines

[lavendead]

Okay so the pokémon au:

I’m gonna go over the first one i thought of first cause that’s the one i have written down then i’ll go over the second one and y’all can help me decide which is better (i like the second one).

So the first one:

Hinata is the protagonist or player so i might refer to him as you because it’s a video game type situation and the protagonist is the player or you. He’s going on his quest because he wants to challenge the pokémon champion, the little giant.

So it’s gonna have an X and Y style rival system with multiple rivals and one main rival, the main rival is Kageyama and the others are Tsukishima Yamaguchi and Yachi. So the game starts when Hinata wakes up on his eleventh birthday and goes to pick up his very first pokémon and begin his journey. When he gets to the lab Suga (the pokémon professor) has 5 starters ready because he heard that this year there would be five new trainers starting on their journey. Sugas main research concerns strengthening pokémon through friendship and that will be important later. So Hinata gets to the lab at the same time as Kageyama and they race into the building to find Yachi Tsukishima and Yamaguchi already there. Hinata gets a fire type crow pokemon think murkrow but on fire. Kageyama gets a water type Yamaguchi gets a grass type Tsukishima gets a ground type and Yachi gets a ice type. Y’all can ask me why i picked the types i did later. He also encounters Kenma who gives him a TM, advice, then leaves.

The first gym is Karasuno and it’s normal type. Before Hinata can enter he has to go find Daichi (the gym leader) at the pokémon daycare. There he meets Noya, the owner of the daycare, and Asahi, his friend (yall will see later). So he gets Daichi but before getting to the gym he battles Kageyama and looses horribly. Either way he goes through the gym heats Daichi and gets the badge. Onto the next gym.

The next gym is Dateko, the steel type gym. I don’t really have a quest in mind for this one yet so if y’all have ideas lmk. The gym leader is Aone. This is where Hinata battles Yamaguchi and wins but Yamaguchi doesn’t really mind and offers to help of Hinata ever needs it. After that it’s pretty much the same process as Karasuno, do the quest, fight Kageyama, loose, challenge the gym, get the badge, next town.

Next is Jozenji which is bug type with gym leader Terushima. I don’t have a quest for them either but either way, quest, Kageyama, gym, move on. This gym also has another Kenma encounter before hand.

Then it’s Wakutani which is fire type. Most of y’all probably don’t remember Wakutani and neither did I but I needed an eight gym so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯. For those of y’all that don’t know they’re one of the teams Karasuno faces in the second interhigh preliminaries after Jozenji, the ones with the other wannabe little giant, Takeru, who’s the gym leader. The quest for this probably like some little giant trivia quiz or something, Hinata passes with flying colors. Kageyama, gym, next one.

This is probably where Hinata first encounters Team Bad Guy, in this au, Shiratorizawa. It’s probably a run in with one of the really forgettable Shiratorizawa characters like Kawanishi or something. It’s an easy fight, Hinata wins, but now he know about them and will battle them somewhere along the quest for the rest of the gyms.

Next gym is Seijoh, a water type gym, and Oikawa is the gym leader. So this is gonna be the pokemon beauty pageant in which Oikawa is the reigning champ. He’ll only let Hinata challenge him if he beats him in the beauty pagent. So Hinata entere the pageant, probably doesn’t win, but either way Oikawas like hey I like your style come challenge my gym. This is where Hinata encounters Yachi, battles her and wins. She offers the same stuff as Yamaguchi. After beating the gym, instead of just moving on Hinata sticks around for a little bit to ask Oikawa about Team Shiratorizawa. Oikawas like “ugh Shiratorizawa I hate those guys, fucking Ushijima.” Basically Oikawa gives a little bit of exposition on Team Shiratorizawa, who’s in it, and what they’re goal is, which is just straight up power. Nice and simple. So fun fact, in the beginning of the game Suga gave Hinata his number in case he ever needs help. Most of the time Suga gives pretty generic advice about the quest but when Hinata calls about Oikawa he rants about way too specific stuff that is not at all related to the quest for like 10 minutes cause he’s got a big fat crush.

The next gym is Fukurodani. Admittedly, this is one of my favorites and one of the ones i put the most thought into. So it’s a flying type gym and the gym leader is Bokuto. This is also where the Pokémon library is, including pokémon researcher Akaashi. Akaashi is researching legendary and mythical pokémon and has just a bunch of unknowns that chill with him in the library but that’s not important till later. So Hinata goes up to the gym and sees Bokuto outside who he does not know is a gym leader. He’s like “hey is everything alright do you need help?” Bokuto explains that he wants to get a roselia for Akaashi who he’s majorly crushing on (I know, a major departure from my usual osaaka bs) but the field he would get it from is being guarded by a lot of Team Shiratorizawa members and although he’s strong he doesn’t think he’s strong enough to take them all at once. So Hinata and Bokuto take on the Shiratorizawa boys together and get the roselia for Akaashi. Bokutos like “hey thanks for the help come challenge my gym” and Hinata is very confused because he didn’t know Bokuto was the gym leader. After this is the third Kenma encounter. Anyway flirting accomplished, Hinata battles Kageyama again, looses, challenges the gym, gets the badge and goes on to the next town.

So the next town is Inarizaki which is also one of my favorites and the one that started this whole au in the first place. So Hinata enters Inarizaki and the first thing he sees is Onigiri Miya which has food for humans and pokémon. Suna is working there at the moment as the owner is out and asks Hinata to help deliver the rice delivery from Kita’s farm. Hinata goes to the farm to see it being attacked by murkrows sent by Team Shiratorizawa with Kita Aran and Atsumu unable to do much. Atsumus like “hey i’m the gym leader help us with our problem and you can challenge the gym.” Hinata uses his probably second or third evolution fire crow to scare off the murkrows and save the farm. Hinata delivers the rice and this time instead of entering the gym after Kageyama like usual, they enter at the same time. The gym is a lot like the first gym from black and white with the branching paths except this one only has two. Hinata and Kageyama go on separate paths and meet up at the gym leader place at the same time. They fight about who goes first until gym leader Atsumu walks in and is like “hey didn’t y’all know,” Osamu walks in after him “this gym is a double battle.” So Hinata and Kageyama double battle electric type gym leader Osamu and Atsumu for the badges. The concept of a double battle is gonna be really important in this au because volleyball is all about working with your team so boom forced teamwork.

So the final gym before the elite four is Nekoma which is a psychic type gym. Outside the gym, Hinata meets Kuroo who explains that he would love to let Hinata challenge the gym but the gym leader hasn’t eaten in a few days and he doesn’t think he’s ready to battle. So Hinata and Kuroo go on a stealth mission through the gym, past the gym leaders pokémon which he had acting as guards, to deliver the gym leader some food and get him to take a nap. Much to Hinata’s surprise, the gym leader is Kenma who has been helping him all along. So Hinata and Kuroo get Kenma to eat and take a nap and after he wakes up Hinata challenges the gym. In the meanwhile Hinata battles Tsukishima who just kinda like ignores him after Hinata wins. After the battle Kenma gives Hinata one last TM, probably something about teamwork, as a good luck gift before the elite four.

So after the Nekoma battle is when the Team Shiratorizawa story line actually does it’s thing. Throughout the game Hinata had encountered many Shiratorizawa members that have been progressively getting tougher to battle. Before the elite four Hinata goes back to Sugas lab to deliver his pokédex or something only to find the lab a mess, all of Suga’s notes stolen, and Suga nowhere to be found. After investigating the lab for a bit Hinata gets a call from a frantic Bokuto saying that Akaashi gone missing. They figure out it must be the work of Shiratorizawa and call Daichi, Oikawa and Kenma to come help storm the Shiratorizawa base. Kageyama, Yachi, Yamaguchi, and Tsukishima overhear and also decide to join them. Shockingly, Oikawa knows where the base is because he had gotten an invitation to join Shiratorizawa when they were first forming but declined because they were hella sketchy and Ushijima pissed him off. So Team Good Guys storms the Shiratorizawa base to find Suga and Akaashi and stop whatever they’re planning. Slowly the my break off into teams of two to have double battles against Shiratorizawa members, First Daichi and Oikawa, then Kenma and Bokuto, then Yamaguchi and Yachi. Kageyama Tsukishima and Hinata arrive in the center of the base where their keeping Suga and Akaashi. Turns out Shiratorizawa wanted to find the legendary using Akaashis research and force it to power up even more using Sugas. Akaashi and Suga were obviously uncooperative but never the less Shiratorizawa found the legendary and is now keeping it in the main room of their base. Akaashi battles Semi, Suga battles Shirabu, Tsukishima battles Goshiki, and Hinata and Kageyama double battle Ushijima and Tendou. After a tough fight team good guys win, free the legendary, and shut down Shiratorizawa.

Now for the elite four. So I made the elite four the aces just for funzies. First is Asahi who’s fairy type, Next is Iwaizumi who’s fighting type, then it’s Aran who’s rock type, and finally Sakusa who is poison type. Hinata and Kageyama once again arrive at the champion battle at the same time, arguing etc. Then Hoshiumi walks in the door and Hinatas like what the fuck I thought the champion was the tiny giant and Hoshiumis like no idiot I beat him like a year ago now i’m the champion. Hoshiumis like I can settle this and calls in Hirugami for a double battle. Hirugamis like wait- but gets steamrolled by Hoshiumi and ends up double battling Hinata and Kageyama. After Hinata and Kageyama win they’re like wait who’s the champion and Hirugamis like that’s what I was trying to say this whole time. So Hoshiumi tells them to battle each other and for the first time ever, Hinata beats Kageyama and becomes champion.

Unrelated to the story but still important in my heart:

Tanaka is Officer Jenny and Kiyoko is Nurse Joy. Saeko owns the bike shop where Hinata gets his bike and in the post game you can find Udai chilling in the back.

Whoo that was a lot. I’m gonna write the second au on a separate post.

#that was so much #haikyuu #pokémon au #my posts #long post

[dropsofletters]

unintended consequences

title: unintended consequences pairing: kim dongyoung/reader genre: meet messy!au/interviewer!au/actor!au/enemies to coworkers to lovers!au summary: kim dongyoung, kim dongyoung...who the hell is kim dongyoung? the question ran through her head endlessly when she was in the middle of a red carpet, having studied enough about everyone to take place on any interview, but something about his name just didn’t connect to her memory. the recording of their interview, extremely awkward and improvised, ends up in the most well-known of sites, viral thanks to its awkward repetition from phone to phone. oh, she knows who kim dongyoung is—the reason why she lost her job as an interviewer. type: fluff/angst/romance/humor/drama word count: 26,229

Everything is about imagination. Romance is, in a way, part of our imagination. With our own very nerves, we craft images of who we imagine to be our soulmate—the reception of our interests in said person translates into connections of love and desire. Working is about imagination, too. Those who are creative will, forever and always, end up at the very top of work ladders. The reason? Simplistic. People love a good image, a nice daydream, a mind that will always look ahead, more profoundly, whose mind will always be running and creating more and more. Endless, this cycle is, but in her line of work…reality is reality.

Gossip magazines are known for their exaggerations. Two actors could be dating and suddenly it’s blasted as some irrationality. People could simply smoke a cigarette and it’s already on every headline. Nonetheless, this is the side that people judge—paparazzi with cameras, interviewers that pry too much, non-studious people who make money out of exploiting the real artistic essence of interest. Plucking those misconceptions away is as tough as the word can get. Hated. Ignored.

Forgotten.

Typical journalists never last in her environment. The box is already complicated; three-dimensional, understandably so, and she has to stand out from that. Her strong fingertips—all caused by endless hours of typing on a computer to get her column to be filled with interesting, yet professionally acceptable articles—are holding onto a pen. Ink-less, it is, glistening on its platinum glow when she holds it close to the man in front of her. Sprawled on a love-seat, to be exact, eyes widened with adoration the more she repeats the questions that shall be delivered elegantly to actors and actresses alike in less than twenty-four hours.

“Mr. Lim, it’s a pleasure to see you here on our red carpet today,” This is typical. Studied. The type of interviewer greeting that comes with those who are fashion enthusiasts or simply socialites asking surface-level questions. However, this is not who she is.

The ups and downs of her cameraman’s voice sounds like puberty. Growth of a twenty-seven-year-old man, in a way, someone who clearly keeps his youth even with the passage of time. Nothing like the actor she has in mind, but no less intriguing than any other celebrity could be. Jason fixes his glasses, plays with the strands of his bleached hair before speaking. “The pleasure is mine.”

“Your last movie was inspired on a memoir written in 2004. What do you think are the correlations between yourself and this character, inspired on a real person?” Like an arrow, questions should be aimed to celebrities to judge them as thinking and reasonable beings. To be a performer, there needs to be some capability of learning lines—but the strength of the delivery of emotions is worth studying. While her articles may not be the most popular in between headlines, for they are not captivating enough or filled with drama, they are…hers. They study what real actors want to be asked; about their performance, not their personal lives.

This imaginary microphone—a pen, if she’s honest—is taken in between the long and skinny fingertips of her partner in crime. Jason, whose face is normally behind a camera pointed at her, and who has accompanied her through thick and thin while building her career. The skies suddenly changed their dulled colors when her boss, finally, rang her phone for something else other than complaining about lack of substance in her articles. For the first time in her journalistic career, she gets to do something important. Interview celebrities live while on the red carpet. “Oh my fucking— You’re going to kill this. I claim it.” Jason’s high voice speaks through the air, pulling the hood of his sweater over his head just when he stands up.

Other than him, no one would know that her eyes can barely stay open after endless studying of the latest works of each of the invitees to the red carpet. Every single one of them, written down on a document, read by her at any given time in which she doesn’t have to work on articles. From movies, to shows, to musicals, to personal relationships, to anything of the like; confirmed invitees were studied by her, ready to ask just the right questions for cinematography enthusiasts. “You really think so?” The hopefulness of her voice shouldn’t have showed through in such a lightweight matter. Her pen rests on her chest, hands clasped together in what seems to be naivety. “Because I’ve been studying every question for the past two months.”

“Well, duh,” Jason’s voice rings through the hotel room when he leans over her vanity, playing with the strands of his hair to fix it. Hours of the journalist interviewing him must have taken a toll on his look, tired beyond relief. “You’re the most intelligent of our team. Only you would prepare this much.”

Questionable, really. She is the most enthusiastic of her team; the only one that remembers the exact day in which journalists are celebrated worldwide, the only one that reads articles and departs them as books, whose diction battled the ones that beauty pageant contestants had to practice, because she believes in the magic of interviewing. It shouldn’t be about asking: ‘Who designed your dress?’ if it’s not Fashion Week. Talking to actors should deal with acting. “I prepare this much because I’m not exactly the smartest of the bunch, you know?”

With a quick motion of his legs, Jason turns around to look at her, long body seated on top of the vanity. “Don’t steal my title. I’m a cameraman for a reason.”

A small smack to his shoulder should suffice, much more now that she can finally close the document on her tablet and let out that one breath that had been suffocating her for the past hour of asking Jason any possible question to every invitee of the red carpet. “Now that this is over…I should really start worrying about what to wear tomorrow.”

Freeze-frame worthy is Jason’s face when he hears those words escaping her lips. “Y—You still haven’t thought of your outfit?”

Staring down at her t-shirt and leggings, the shake of her head is given. “I’m not much of a fashion lady.” She replies, quite clear in the way she seems to have, at least, three gray t-shirts in her wardrobe and a lot more leggings than she’d like to admit. “Hyoyeon sent me some clothing for me to wear. Some dresses and whatnot, but I haven’t even opened the box. I’ve been too busy revising—”

“Where’s the box?”

“On top of my luggage, why—?” The question is not finished when she watches Jason overtake the room with long, purposeful strides, taking the big box in between certain fingers before dropping the package on top of her undone hotel bed. “…Okay, let’s look at what I have here, I guess.”

“I am the one deciding.”

“Uh…why?” She asks, resting her hand on top of the lid before Jason could open it, but for someone so skinny he seems to have a bit of strength in him, popping it open even through her attempts of stopping him.

“You’d pick whatever is most similar to t-shirts and leggings, and let me tell you something: you’re going to be live to the world tomorrow. Through YouTube or the TV, people are going to look at you.” As if the constant names, questions and reminders inside her head are not stressful enough, Jason’s words seem to deflate her confidence a bit. Maybe…she should have taken more care of what she is going to wear tomorrow. “And I may not look like it, but my girlfriend is a columnist in the fashion area of our magazine, and also the one that sent you this package, so I get to pick.”

The blossoming love between the tech enthusiast, sci-fi lover, cameraman Jason and Hyoyeon, a fashionable woman with love for Louis Vuitton more than life itself, will never be understood by her. But, in comparison, Jason does dress slightly better than her, and he plays around with patterns and colors more than she does. “I’ll let you as long as you pick something nice.”

His fingers wrap around the last piece of clothing, a violet dress that screams ‘90’s diva’. Fitted all around, with a few shining spots under the faux lights of the hotel room (is it nighttime already? She wonders), the straps show support to the delicate, yet there, neckline, length supposed to reach a little bit under the middle of her thighs. “I know mad shit about dresses, but this one looks like it could make you look good—”

“And like I’d want to show my boobs to the entire country in a live interview.” She concludes, deep frown only highlighted when she realizes how her arms are crossed over her chest. “Hyoyeon always wants to get me in dresses, but I swear to God—” Still, plastered on Jason’s face, is a look that tells her to wear it. “I haven’t even shaved my legs and I’m not going to wear something that will make me look bad.”

“You’ve never tried a dress like this.” Jason says. “Besides, don’t you think it’s pretty?”

“It is,” The mumble she gives out is cut short when her hand reaches forward to feel the fabric. Soft, tight, it looks like it’d give a nice shape, too. “Should I just go for it?”

“If Hyoyeon picked it, I’m sure no one is going to think it’s a bad look.” The cameraman conquers, reaching inside the box to point out different dresses. “And the rest are even more revealing.”

“What’s with Hyoyeon and having me wear revealing dresses?”

“Ask her, not me.” Jason points out, tossing the dress towards her way before she sighs.

“If this dress doesn’t work out, I’m wearing a t-shirt and some leggings.”

“It’ll work out.”

She doesn’t know if she wants him to tell her that about the interview or the dress, but with her mind preoccupied with other matters, her hands hook around the dress, moving to the bathroom to try it on and forget about the pressure of her interview program for the slightest bit.

###

The energy is buzzing, even for everyone who watches through a screen. Translated into absolute delight; a night of recognition and love to the most given and talented of actors, actresses and performers, all given to a red carpet. If someone dared to squint and look at her, they’d see just how confident she is, despite the dress that has her shying away with her body language. One arm crossed over her chest, taking leverage on the elbow that crooks up to hold the microphone up to the actors and actresses that come over to her; legs crossed, some would think her heels must be killing her in the position she is, but the choice made by Hyoyeon in what shoes consist of is not necessarily uncomfortable. If anything, the breeze is what makes her feel most uneasy, as well as the weight of the jewelry falling from her earlobes, the necklace resting in between her collarbones and down her chest. Of course, not to forget the tightness of the dress, just a little bit too revealing for her liking.

Glitter in everyone’s gazes. Shining. Rich. Everyone on there is dressed to utmost perfection, pride on their faces from the hard work, earned through recording, shooting, scripting, producing, acting and the words are told by themselves. The invitees drop one by one, specially in the order that she had studied—the sources of her magazine are rarely wrong, after all. The camera is pointed at her, but most of the time concentrating on the celebrity ahead of them. The questions flow from her lips elegantly, smartly, at one point she really thinks she is just simply having fun, jitters of happiness fluttering up her stomach and bringing a smile to her face.

This is what hard work looks like. Rather, the conclusion of it.

Thunder is not what breaks the atmosphere of tranquility, for the afternoon is too heated to change weathers so suddenly, but the shouts and screams of overexcited fans could have made her fall out of pure surprise. Scanning the red carpet, in between the masses of photographers going crazy to take pictures of this one celebrity, her eyes meet the person that seemed to have destroyed the afternoon—and night—for other fellow performers.

An angel in disguise, some would call him, with that serious look on the expression of the man now standing on the red carpet. The white suit on his body is fitted, put exactly to the width of his shoulders, to fit the length of his long legs and make him look like the epitome of a daydream. She can already imagine the magazines going crazy about this one outfit on this…unknown celebrity. This…whoever this is.

No companion, she notices. The black-haired angel moves further in front of the cameras, now approaching interviewers one by one, but she can’t still find a name for him. Of course, he has to be known—the cheers for him say so much about it, of fame and overrated-ness, but the name never comes up to her mind, or it never reads in her mental image of the list of invites.

Who, out of the invitees, would have such a face? Such physique, that she can’t find words in the tip of her tongue, can’t speak like the skilled journalist she is.

That comma hairstyle frames his oval-shaped face perfectly, as if made for him. His eyes, leaned upwards, are the most powerful point of his face, paired with straight eyebrows that, in one way or another, give him an air of mightiness. His nose, short, small, as if crafted by an artist—and those lips, that had little to no importance for her, until he gave a smile to the interviewer next to her, moving closer and closer to her spot.

And who the fuck is this guy?!

What can she even ask him?

Taking Jason by the shoulder, and thankful that they are on commercial break, she leans over to talk to him away from the microphone. Better, it is, to avoid mistakes. “Who is this guy?”

“Kim Dongyoung. Duh.” Jason says in a hushed whisper, earning a glare from her and a scrunch of her nose.

“Who the hell is Kim Dongyoung?”

Not enough time is given to her when cheers get closer to where she is and once, she turns, the sight of the unknown celebrity has her swallowing harshly. Throughout her two years of her professional journalistic career, she has never been the type to embark in small, fast conversation in interviews. Not even for the written ones. In the depths of her brain, asking for something simplistic just speaks wonders about her research skills, but in this one occasion, she’s left stranded, looking ahead at the man who shares a smile with her before looking towards the camera—

“We’re on air.”

With numb fingers, her microphone goes forward for Dongyoung to speak. She has one of her own, practically pressed to the side of her face. Much to her distaste, however, her shaking motions must have caught him off guard, immensely so now that his lip is hit by the microphone, that precious gummy grin of his long forgotten. “Oh, sorry.” She speaks fast, as quickly as she can without making it suspicious. “Welcome, Kim Dongyoung. It’s a pleasure to have you on our show.”

Dongyoung, whose face is now filled with seriousness, tries to give a tight-lipped smile as he raises his hand to shush the waves of fans cheering for him. “The pleasure is mine. I’m a huge fan.”

Oh. Oh, fuck, he shouldn’t have said that. This is a clear sign that he wants a nice interview, one that cannot be made up from the ignorance of her brain. Since when was he invited?! “So are we.” Lying through her teeth seems like the fitted option as of now. One look at his brown eyes has her breath caught on her throat, her free hand twisting behind her back. “Dongyoung, who designed your suit?”

…This is not the kind of journalist she is, much less the kind of interviewer she desires to be, and the stare Dongyoung gives to his body is brief before parting his lips to answer, equally as monotone as her voice: “Prada.” His fingers toy with the edge of his white blazer, making her speak into her microphone.

“It looks good.”

“Thank you. This night is very special for me, so me and my team had been working to put this look together for so long.”

“So…” A trailing voice, uncertain eyes, an actor like him must have noticed the tightness of her movements, the sweat pooling by her forehead, the absolute fear of fucking this up. Her mind, however, going a million miles per hour, tries to think of movies or shows that he has been in. “That’s nice, actually. Yeah, pretty nice. It’s rare to see someone like you without a companion, is anyone going to join you soon?”

Dongyoung’s eyebrows turn into a frown, body visibly tensing the more he straightens his back, as if wanting to pull away from her. One stare into his group of fans has her realizing that they’ve fallen quiet, much like the actor in front of her. This is the moment she feels as though her walls are crumbling down, knees shaking and failing to control the weight on her heels, wanting nothing more than to erase herself out of existence. For a second. A brief one. “Not really. I—Uh, I’m in a moment of my life where I consider I should be judged by my talent, not who I’m accompanied by.”

“Of course,” And then, it clicks. That name…that name sounds similar to one she had read, perhaps she could come up with something— “In the movie Homme Fatale, you were bound to mix the historical genre with comedy? What were the hardships of mixing the comedic relief of your character along with such a serious matter—?”

In the blink of an eye, Dongyoung leans over the microphone. Face vacant of that liveliness that represented him at the beginning of the interview, lips quirking up in a sarcastic smile that barely lasts when he says. “Well, I wouldn’t know, because that’s a movie my brother was in. Not me.”

Shit, Kim Gong Myung, not Kim Dongyoung— “Ah, yeah, my bad,” A brief chuckle leaves her lips, staring towards the camera before resting her hand against her forehead. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s alright.” Dongyoung says, looking over to the side where his manager is making signs for him to pull away as soon as possible, simply giving a curt nod. “Thanks for the support to my brother, either way.”

“I—”

“Everyone, have a nice night.” The speech is given to the camera, a wave of his hand and soon after, he’s gone into the masses of people, leaving her with her heart racing rapidly when—thankfully—another commercial break resurfaces. Fear, all coming from embarrassment, the tears that threaten to appear on her eyes are blown away by Jason. Quite literally. The man that supports her through everything is blowing soft gushes of air on her eyes while she looks up to stop the crying.

“Don’t cry. Don’t cry. You still have other interviews to do—”

“I’m going to fuck it up. Let’s just cut it right here.” Her voice breaks, long gone that posture of a journalist she had, and it takes a few movements of her hands to blow air at her eyes to stop the tears. Though, the shaking continues to be there. “I didn’t even know who he was.”

“How didn’t you—? You know what? Whatever. It happens. You just need to move on and pretend nothing happened.”

Though, there are matters in life that are meant to be lessons, and with her nose still sniffling away the embarrassment from before, she continues on with this huge lesson of life. Mistakes are made by everyone, just that not a lot of people end up doing them on live TV. It will be alright, as long as not that many people were tuning it, it is going to be a forgettable interview.

…Or, she hopes the twenty-five thousand viewers think the same way.

###

You know, for someone who didn’t give two shits about multiplication back in elementary school, it has become a huge karma in her life. Twenty-five thousand views on a livestream of a red carpet had turned into one hundred thousand views on a YouTube video, soon after reaching the one-million-views milestone. At this point, five days after the incident, she is terrified of even looking at her phone, much less searching her name up on YouTube to see the amount of views on her worst, most memorable interview.

Her bet goes on five million views, but she may lose her money at this point.

Not to say that she had not looked at the video of her imminent death, the moment her soul left her body and dissipated into the limbo, a hell so much worse than Dante’s inferno; because, in retrospect, she has, a bunch of times on the day after the red carpet. Her pride teared apart just a little bit more when she saw the expressions on Dongyoung’s face, lips parted in an uncomfortable smile, eyes widened when her words ruined the moment a little bit more. His body tensed, broad shoulders moving uncontrollably at one point, needing to find a way to get out of there as soon as possible. His image could have been tainted by this, perhaps his expressions would be laughed at on the internet once the initial shock passes by, but he would never lose as much as she did. Her job, to be exact, coming from the text her boss had sent her three days ago.

This is what people fail to express after putting celebrities on a pedestal. That they, on the long run, could be the cause of someone’s destruction with the power they have. Dongyoung, though looking like an angel that night, had destroyed her entire career in the blink of an eye, like a wrecking ball that overtook everything in her life. The world hated to see one of the most beloved actors not be recognized by someone who did their best on an interview with someone they didn’t even know, and as always, journalists are placed on the villain role. It’s fitted for them. It’s fitted for her.

It’s the reason why, even as of now, seated in front of Hyoyeon and Jason, there are people looking at her. Young fans, to be exact, perhaps teenagers, going crazy over the fact that actor Kim Dongyoung had an awkward moment once in his life.

What about her?

What about her job?

The clicking of cameras is what has her sighing, stabbing more of the greasy, soy-sauce coated noodles in front of her, not caring that they are steaming when she plops them inside her mouth with a devastated sigh soon after. It’s even more pathetic that, once she pays for this meal, it will mean a negative sign in her savings, which she should be taking into consideration for paying her rent. Who would even want her as a journalist anymore? After all, she embarrassed the ‘it-boy’ of acting in public television.

The first person to react is Hyoyeon, already dragging her seat with a loud shriek before sticking her chest forward at the group of teenagers harassing them with pictures. “They better not bother you in here. You’ve barely eaten the past few days and I’m going to kick their asses if they make you feel any worse.” But Hyoyeon doesn’t realize that being protected by the ‘mom-friend’ of the group is even more degrading. Once back on her seat, with her left hand resting on top of Jason’s thigh under the table, Hyoyeon’s eyes look for hers, but she doesn’t relent. “Don’t pay attention to them—”

“How can I not? I get death threats in the mail, Hyoyeon. People hate me around the entire country.” She points out, watching the noodles swirl on her plate, leaving imprints of sauce on the white ceramic. “It’s not my fault I just didn’t know who Kim Dongyoung was. Sorry, I’m not one of the women that gets their panties wet while watching one of his movies. I haven’t even watched any of them.”

Jason, as dumbly charming as he is, speaks from his spot, fixing the thick bottle-lenses glasses from falling from the bridge of his nose. “You actually should. Dongyoung is an expert in mystery movies. I haven’t watched any actor do it like him—ouch.”

A sharp pinch on his thigh from his girlfriend must be what cut his sentence short, having Hyoyeon give her a faint smile. “They’re not that good, honey. If he has not made a statement to the public after that awkward interview, that means he’s not a good person.”

Does it? Lately, she has been questioning that endlessly. Maybe, she should have really studied more—let the confidence slide and grip onto some nervousness. Perhaps, Dongyoung was equally as uncomfortable as her. Not because she didn’t recognize him, but because she had asked him exactly what would have hurt him at the time— “I get him, though. He just got out a break-up scandal, I’m sure his team is telling him to let the wolves eat me alive and then, he’s off the hook.”

Hyoyeon, now even more interested, picks a nice amount of noodles up with her chopsticks before speaking up once again. “About that…Yuno was the one to write an article about Dongyoung’s break-up in our magazine, and the sources say that he’s the one who cheated. Though, it has always seemed fishy to me.”

The adoration in Jason’s face is clear when he nods at his girlfriend. “Yeah, I also read over it. It is told that he cheated, but it’s never said with who or why or when or how.”

“Guys, he’s a celebrity.” She cuts the chase, the past few days making her hyperaware of her surroundings, of the reality she has lived and the world that she had tried to push herself into. “Celebrities are like that. They have everything but they always want more. I’m not surprised.” Though, part of her mind had always wanted to treat celebrities more than an image. Thinking individuals, able to feel passion and love for what they do, humans just like her that are excited about cinematography, art, speaking, and anything of the like. Wrong, she had been.

“True…” Jason mumbles, lips puckered up when he hears another shutter of the cameras, now widening his eyes towards the group of teenagers.

“Hey!” Hyoyeon calls out loudly, ready to scold the teenagers when she rests her hand on top of the woman’s.

“Let them.” Must be the loss speaking, the tiredness of her brain after so much turmoil. Dongyoung is probably somewhere in his mansion, watching the pictures that are released of her, or reading over his next script and his prepared answers for interviews. Once Hyoyeon is seated again, not forgetting to send a glare to the other people by the restaurant, she speaks. “I may move to Argentina at this point. Just run away, become some newspaper girl there, not stay here and wait for one of his fans to kill me.”

“Don’t say that,” Jason, the voice of reasoning, the person that had been there with her when everything happened, speaks softly. The delusion she feels tears at her, hopelessness shown in her unkempt hair—she hasn’t washed it, hasn’t brushed it, much less has she put on a drop of makeup. She doesn’t feel like it, all she feels like doing is standing up and stomp over all the judgements, running far, far away from the articles made by her own people. “Just…try for other magazines. Your talent is phenomenal, you understand movies like no other, and have studied cinematography for long enough. I’m sure a lot of people would want you with them.”

Reminiscent of the reason why she wanted to become a journalist, she wonders if that’s the case. A young girl, she had been, watching fairytales on television and enjoying the craft of the characters, their quirks and perks, the lines that made them memorable forever engraved in her brain. Movies moved her to different parts of the world, brought back feelings that she had never known, and that’s the magic of a good performer. Actors bend or make the movie. “…Maybe—”

“Besides, you don’t have enough money to go to Argentina.”

“Jason!” Hyoyeon scowls, getting a faint, shameful grin from her boyfriend.

“It’s the truth—”

Watching the noodles in her plate, she thinks she needs to fight for this. For the meals she needs to eat, for the apartment she wants to keep, for the lifestyle that she has given herself through her hard work, the name that she has made only to have it torn apart. There is a reason to exist, there will always be, and if her existence annoyed someone once, it’s not her problem. “You know what? Argentina can wait.”

###

The light swirls in the thin air. Bright, matching the stars in the posters around the office. People are going from one edge of the room to other, shoes that are far too expensive for however much these journalists get paid, holding big stacks of paper on their hands of articles that may never be released, at least not as honestly as they should. Journalists are, sometimes, fiction authors. They need to make a reality so fantastic that books such as the Iliad would be ashamed of their mythology history. To gain interest, there needs to be a narrative, but nothing about this place or the many others she has gone to has caught her attention.

White are the walls of the seventeenth place she has gone to in the past two weeks, all of which have served her to miss her past job equally as much. The posters are of different artists; from Elvis Presley to local bands that she has no idea about, to some actors that she can’t even look at without feeling pressured. Her hands, clampy at this point, hold onto her resume for dear life, seated on the uncomfortable metal seats in front of the boss’ office. Too occupied, the boss seems to be, chattering and laughing loudly and casting the sound towards the outside, whatever celebrity that is there with her making it much too obvious that they are sharing a pop-able bottle of champagne, enough to make the interview that much more…interesting.

That, or whoever this is just wants good traction, and to be on the journalist’s side always.

The coffee machine by her side works, but no matter how many times she presses the button that reads ‘latte’, she gets the same Americano as always. The bitter taste has already woken her up, but not in the best of mindsets, looking down at her resume and her goals, all of which had been absolutely destroyed. No one looked at her as just a fellow journalist anymore, she was ‘Doyoung’s enemy’, the one interviewer that hated him so much that she had compared him to his brother, and had asked about a companion when he had gotten out of a longtime relationship.

Come to think of it, she sounds like the devil with a microphone in hand, and this all happens when asking the questions that everyone else asks. What works for everyone, maybe, just doesn’t work for her.

And she can’t even get a free latte, as it seems, because this fucking coffee machine only knows what an Americano is—

“Oh, Dongyoung, you really have a way with words.” The laughter of the boss in question has her looking up. Slowly, almost as if she’s in a thriller movie and needs the monster to disappear before she fully looks at it. Her life is not a movie, quite clearly, so she ends up making direct eye-contact with the man that had stomped on her life, danced a flamenco song, and left it in shambles. Dongyoung, with his hair still parted perfectly, now looks more casual. Gray hoodie on top of a black t-shirt, ripped jeans that show those legs that she had checked out on the red carpet, but the mere sight of him has her standing up.

The owner of the magazine in question may have noticed the struggle of both people in the same room. Dongyoung, whose face gets filled with recognition, his smile changing to a frown as rapidly as it changes to a look of pity. And she, of course, is the one that can’t hide the absolute fear she feels at that moment. Fear and hatred, mind her, because all she needed was a statement from him to fix her reputation. “I—” She starts, not finding the words in her to say anything else, because the owner of the magazine now seems to be drenched in shame. If anything, she may start apologizing to Doyoung for the mere presence of the journalist. “Here’s my resume, but I know you won’t call me.”

Her rushed steps are only heightened when she hears someone following her, looking over her shoulder by the time her name is called. Dongyoung’s hand is lifted in the air, as if to catch her attention, but the troubled stance inside of herself settles a fire alarm in her brain, making her rush down the set of stairs instead of taking the elevator. The ceramic glides against her sneakers easily, running and running down the endless number of stairs while Dongyoung speaks.

“Hey, wait up! I need to talk to you!”

“Don’t you dare get close to me!” And it’s even more of a surprise when Dongyoung’s long legs are able to skip two or three stairs per step, leaving her at disadvantage no matter how fast she tries to move. “What do you want? Do you need to ridicule me more? Isn’t it enough that half the country hates me because of you?” This exact mindset is what has her stopping, because this man, this man in front of her, breathing rapidly after rushing behind her, is the one that had made her life lose meaning, lose the North that had characterized her for so many years, the only passion that she ever had lost in time and essence because of his mere existence.

“I’m so sorry you’ve been getting hate.” But he doesn’t know that there’s nothing she hates more than that pitiful look on his face, eyes glistening, eyebrows turned downwards, lips pressed in a sly pout, absentminded at that. “I didn’t mean for it to get viral, but you should’ve denied the interview if you didn’t know who I was. You literally made a fool of me on air and—”

“Of you?!” Now, without a job, she can treat a celebrity exactly like who they are. Human beings, just like her, just like the one man in front of her who feels remorse because his image was slightly tainted. “You only care about your image? Every show on TV has been making fun of my mistakes. Fans take pictures of me and ask me why I even did that to you…” Her voice lowers, headache thumping on her temples the more she looks at him. “And you dare to tell me I made a fool of you on TV? No one will hate you, you’re the victim here, I’m left as some villain—”

“I want to mend it, just let me speak!” Dongyoung tells her, moving to stand in front of the stairs when she tries to walk away from him once again. Now closer, she gets to see the droplets of sweat on his collarbones, the rosiness of his lips when he talks softly. “I’ve been in scandals, with my ex, at least. The public will always see what the celebrity wants them to see, I just need you to play along with me and in some months, you’ll have your job back.”

“You don’t mean it—”

“I mean it. I’ll get you back in your magazine if you just stop insulting me and let me tell you my plan. Well, the one I came up with just a few minutes ago when I saw you in front of that office.” Dongyoung rushes to get his words out, eyelashes softly fluttering on top of his cheekbones, catching her full attention when she gives a step back and crosses her arms over her t-shirt cladded body.

“What do you have in mind?” Though, the resentment in her tone has not subsided in any way, glaring at him as if all the pain her mind has gone through for the past few weeks could be thrown his way in the form of baggage.

“My personal assistant left the job after my scandal with my ex, so…I need a personal assistant.”

“I’m a journalist, Dongyoung. I may not have looked like a good one in your eyes, but I’ve done some pretty good articles—”

“Let me speak.”

“You just say nonsense.”

“Well, fuck, look who is talking. You confused me with my brother.” Her lips get sealed by those words, looking over to the side simply not to smack his face away from her trip down the stairs. “Normally, personal assistants tend to appear in pictures taken by the paparazzi, or in ‘behind-the-scenes’ videos, or even in the background of interviews, but no one pays attention to them. They are the closest to celebrities, almost like a confidante, and still people don’t care…” His voice trails, certainty shown in his expressive features, lips quirking up in a small smile when he says: “If people saw you in pictures with me, in videos, in whatever it is that you can get on, as my personal assistant, they’d think we just ended up becoming friends even after the interview. If I forgive you, the world forgives you.”

Tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear, suddenly interested in his words, the rational part of her decides to intervene. “Why can’t you just make a statement saying you forgive me and I’ll be off to my old job sooner?”

“Because people won’t see a growth. If they see us acting closer, like we’re friends and you’ve grown to know me, they’ll think that we truly changed from the first time we met. Besides, not to sound like a stuck-up asshole, but…my friends get good opportunities in this business.”

A scoff leaves her lips, shaking her head at him. “How long would I be your personal assistant for?”

“…Until people eat up that we’re friends, I guess.”

Her eyes are starting to hurt from the migraine that creeps up on her, rubbing them furiously to the point she sees stars behind her vision. Or maybe, it’s the radiant smile he gives her, gummy as always, pleading her in that awkward and expressive way of his to just let him mend things. “Well…it’s either this or starving in Argentina. Deal.” With an extended hand, she grips his. The skin is soft, clear as day that he hasn’t worked a day in his life, and the coldness of his rings caresses the crevices on her dermis. Her other hand looks for her phone, however, eager to start a job that actually pays rent. “Give me your number and I’ll get on working.”

Dongyoung takes the phone in between his hands, speaking while he looks down. “A—Argentina? You were going to Argentina?”

“It’s sarcasm.” She replies, making him look up before nodding once.

“Ah…I see…”

And he expects someone to believe that they’ve become friends and gotten over the initial shock of the interview?

He better put that supposed acting skill to good use, then.

###

“Oh, my Goodness, you’re the new personal assistant, right?!”

Upon entering the set, the least she would have expected is to hear the overexcited tone of a male. Her eyes that had been inspecting the place, from the high ceilings, the tremendously bright lights, to the flooring with the decorations in wooden and darkened tones for what seems to be a police department, are suddenly settling on paying attention to the person before her. A little bit over thirty, rounded cheeks with freckles falling along them, his height serves to make him look taller, that buff body of his different from his sweet-looking face.

Oh, but she knows him, and a nod from her is enough for the cables in her brain to connect in images of revindication. The manager that had called out for Dongyoung in that red carpet, that’s who this man is, though his clothing was a lot posher at the time she saw him, his hair far more styled than the straight cut that it is right now. “Sweet.” He adds, perhaps unfamiliar with the amount of hate she has gotten, or far more interested, to the point of being blinded by the news, by the fact that there is someone new on the team. “I couldn’t wait for the day I’d stop being his manager and his personal assistant. I’m glad it happened sooner than later.” He speaks in a rushed manner, moving somewhere and leaving her stranded, not until he turns on his heels and points for her to follow him. “You’re coming, you know?”

Still, far too interested in the sights around her, she follows after him. Dongyoung had not texted her until a week later, after informing his team and sending a contract her way, one that had been read by one of her lawyer friends and approved thanks to her lack of employment. Nonetheless, his comment was brief once he did talk to her—to meet him on Monday, at nine in the morning, in the set for his newest series. A crime TV show, at that, something so unlike him and yet, extremely fitting for his thriller and mysterious ways in acting.

“I’m Moon Sujin. Dongyoung’s manager, by the way. Well aware of who you are, too.” The lively man says with a big smile on his face, as if it could never disappear from his features. Good for him, she thinks. “His idea was…interesting, once he told me, but I read over your resume and I think you’d be intelligent enough to be his personal assistant.”

He says it as if this is supposed to be more difficult than majoring on something, than following a career on journalism, than writing article over article based on facts. A smile graces her features when they enter the small cafeteria by the set. New electronics, to be expected, are there, glistening in gray colors and almost too pristine looking until Sujin opens the door of the refrigerator, getting out what seems to be some breakfast. “I think I can manage. Being some celebrity’s personal assistant shouldn’t be so difficult.”

“Dongyoung is nice, don’t get me wrong. But he’s picky.” Sujin says, fingers working on placing the meals on the containers in a plate before settling them inside the microwave. The minutes read two, to be exact. “Loves his sleep more than one would think. Oh, he doesn’t like messing up his free time, so he likes to have everything scheduled out. You got here a little early, that’s good, because he likes his breakfast to be at nine before his real schedule starts at nine fifteen.”

Of course. Of course, Kim Dongyoung just had to be picky and selective over anything else. At this point, a little voice, faint in the distance of her brain, is telling her that he probably picked her as his personal assistant just to make her life even harder to deal with. “…What if I don’t do stuff how he wants me to?”

“He’d probably get a bit pissed. Though, it’s not that scary, to be honest.” Sujin’s happy tone is starting to get to her nerves, much more when he gets the food out soon after. “So, typical breakfast for Dongyoung.”

“Alright, shoot. Is it crème brulé or something?”

Sujin pushes the plate towards her hands, the heat of it connecting to her skin and making her hiss. A bag is placed over her shoulders, her arm lifting up just so he can slot it around her body. “His breakfast has to be full, because sometimes he eats lunch late, depends on how the recording or the schedule goes. He likes to have sandwiches, but since he doesn’t like the cheese to be cold, I heat them up. I’ll make sure to send you the recipe of the type of sandwiches he likes, it’s his mom’s recipe.” The image of Dongyoung being picky about sandwiches brings a groan from the depths of her soul, looking to the side to see the black bag now resting against her waist. “Those are the cold things he likes to eat. He doesn’t like green vegetables on their own, so I make them into a smoothie. I’ll also send you the recipe. Uh…he likes his fruits sliced, make sure they don’t get too brown, and it should be fine.”

“Wha—? Why?” She asks, lifting her eyebrows in complete trigger at the fact that this is the angel that the country adored, that had made her seem like the worst person alive. “…Can’t he just eat normal sandwiches? Why do they have to be his mom’s recipe?”

Knowing more than she ever could, clear from his features when he sighs candidly, he leans his weight against the refrigerator. “He’s homesick.”

He’s not the only one. What would he feel if he was in her position, ignoring every call from her family members after the incident with the interview? She’s too ashamed to tell them that she’s struggling with money, to start with. “Yeah, so?”

“So, he likes to feel like he’s home through his food.”

“I can see that much. Anything else that he may need? Do I have to do a dance when I deliver his food?” That sarcasm, typical of her now that she is out of the journalism world, has Sujin chuckling.

At least, he does get sarcasm. Unlike some actor—

“He’ll tell you what he wants. He’s a man of routine, so you’ll see the pattern with each day that you spend with him.” Sujin answers, slipping away from the refrigerator before moving towards the door, opening it wide for her. “The cheese’s getting cold. Go to the end of this hallway, turn right and read over the names of the dressing rooms. The one has a paper that says ‘Kim Dongyoung’ is where you’ll find him.”

Difficult. Oh, it is extremely difficult just to stand there and watch Sujin say all these things with so much certainty, a daily routine to be exact. There is a reason as to why that personal assistant left, after all. Closing her eyes, she steps away from the cafeteria and looks at the hallway ahead. Empty, the faint chatter from outside is everything that can be heard after Sujin’s footsteps are too far away for her to hear. The gray walls and white lights lead the way the more she follows after Sujin’s instructions, name after name on the door suddenly coming to the halting conclusion of Kim Dongyoung. A nightmare, this is what this needs to be and if she pinches herself another time and doesn’t wake up, she might actually lose it—

The first problem of the day surfaces when she realizes she can’t actually open the door, both hands resting under the plate, and if she puts it down, he may actually not eat it, saying it’s germ-filled or something. Once again, patience overtakes her, thinking of this as a job that will help her pay rent, get her journalist reputation back and then, forget about the existence of actor Kim Dongyoung. With this mindset, one of her hands lets go of the plate to balance it on only one, opening the door with one swift twist of the gold doorknob, not having enough time to gush at the decorations of Dongyoung’s clearly expensive dressing room.

“Morning, Dongyoung. I brought you your food and met your manager—” Once she opens the door fully and looks away from the plate on her hands, she feels her throat going dry and her plate almost slipping from her fingertips. There he is, the heartthrob of the mystery genre, leaning over his vanity and reaching for a graphic t-shirt, fingers dumbly wrapped around it when he stares at her with a surprised expression on his features. It is at this exact moment that she forgets the normal mannerism of knocking before entering any place.

Dongyoung’s torso is highlighted by the golden lights of the vanity, a thin silver chain glistening under the light. His broad shoulders look soft in texture, trailing down to his subtly toned abdomen and the pair of leather pants that hug his long legs. There is a leather jacket on top of the vanity, maybe it is meant to match with that, but the more she looks at his features—the elegant, soft makeup that covered his handsome face in more glow, the less she wants to stay there for a second longer.

“Oh shit, sorry, my bad!” She exclaims far too quickly, hand coming in contact with the doorknob once again and twisting it just in time to close the door behind her, back leaning against the material before slowly dragging herself down on it, just a little bit, not enough to rest her weight against the floor.

The reality is, there is a reason as to why women—and men—go crazy for Kim Dongyoung and if his shirtless body is anything to go by, she may understand it, but she doesn’t want to be one of those people. The least she wanted was to work for him, and there she is, standing outside and waiting for Earth to eat her alive along with the imminent awkwardness that just has to linger in between the two. She is a journalist, she knows how to speak to people without stuttering, but what is it about Dongyoung and herself that makes her act, sound and talk so irrationally and stupidly?

Not only did she compare him to his brother—or confuse him, really—, not recognize him, asked him—unknowingly—about his ex…but now she had also invaded his privacy and seen him shirtless.

Getting dressed, rather.

The door opens with softness, almost as if he expects her to give up on the job right then and there, and she may have had it not been for that pitiful look on his features thrown her way. His face softens at the sight of her, sighing deeply when he opens the door wider, enough for her to catch a glimpse of the dressing room. Big mirrors, a few seats, a TV and a leather couch. Some hats for his character, probably a police officer according to the rumors Hyoyeon had gotten from the magazine she worked for.

Her eyes automatically trail down to his chest, seeing it cladded on that shirt he was trying to put on in the first place, and the leather jacket does match the pants. “Knock next time, will you? And don’t look at me as if you’ve seen a ghost.” Dongyoung comments, tilting his head to the side before pointing to the dressing room. “Did Sujin send my food with you?”

The door closes the moment she steps inside, all thanks to Dongyoung who moves towards the vanity after taking the plate from her hands. Her fingers hook around the strap of her bag, settling it down on the vanity beside his food to get his green smoothie out, as well as his container filled with fruits; apples, pears, watermelon and some strawberries, as it seems. “He did. I only had gotten here when he was already so happy about me being your assistant.”

“He’s my manager, but he can’t stand some ordering around.” Dongyoung’s answer is cut short when he stabs the lid of his smoothie with his straw, putting it up to his lips before giving it a sip. His face clearly shows that he really doesn’t like green vegetables, scrunching up at his nose and parting his lips in a silent gag.

With the silence settling around them, she decides to speak up on the only thing that has been going through her head for the past few minutes. “I’m sorry for not knocking and for walking in on you changing.” Though, she looks anywhere else but his eyes when she admits so.

“No worries.” Dongyoung swats the matter away softly before taking a bite of his sandwich. Awkward, once again, Dongyoung has to clear his throat to catch her attention and have her looking at him. “I need you to do some things for me today, though.”

“What would that be?” She asks, already looking for her phone to write down what she has to do, only to hear Dongyoung chuckling. “What?”

“Do you type fast?”

“Of course, I’m a journalist. Why?”

“Because I ask for a lot of things.” Dongyoung confesses, thinking of it as the best of comedies when he laughs at her, head thrown back and eyes closed tightly before breathing out softly.

“You’re such a celebrity.”

“And you’re such a whiner.” Dongyoung retorts back, looking at her from the corner of his eye before muffling his own voice with his sandwich. “First, I would like for you to go pick up my dog from the hairdresser in a bit. Also, I already ordered lunch ahead and you have to pick it up, as well. There’s a car for my personal assistant, by the way, I’ll give you the keys in a second.” Oh, and the job comes with more and more perks…everything sounds absolutely delightful, so much so than the more she types, the more she feels like writing at the end: Kim Dongyoung is a privileged asshole with a nice face and damn me, a nice body. “Uh…you forgot my scripts, by the way, but it’s okay, I snatched them away from Sujin before I came here.”

“Y—Your scripts?” She asks, quirking one of her eyebrows up to see Dongyoung getting something out of the drawers of the vanity before settling it down on it with a loud thump. “Jesus Christ—”

A folder, as thick as a textbook, is now seated on top of the white ceramic. “This is my folder of scripts. I’m working on a historical film later this year, so I’ve been reading that. There’s this show, so I have all the scripts for the next fifteen episodes here. I also have some variety shows to attend to and they, also, have scripts. Without counting some comedy film I’ve already done, but Sujin has forgotten to get that out of this folder.” Dongyoung comments, the amount of projects under his belt enough to make her head wonder how in the world he is able to remember so many characters, all those words— “Most actors don’t ask for this, but I’m afraid I’ll forget my lines so I ask my personal assistant to bring it along everywhere. It may be a heavy folder, but it has my entire life in it.”

That, she can understand. Though, she’s more of a technological woman if anything, but for how hard she studied the questions for her latest interview, only to be ruined by him, she could understand his fear of forgetting one of his lines. “I’ll carry it.” She answers, already reaching for it and resting the plastic against her chest. “So, dog, lunch, scripts. What else?”

“Cancel the dinner I was supposed to have with my acting committee today. I’m not feeling it and I’m also busy with shooting, so send an email.” Jotting that down on her phone, now with the weight of that folder on her arms, she is surprised when she watches Dongyoung stand up from his seat, standing in front of her with a smile. “And I’ll give you until two to be back here. That should be enough.”

“Dongyoung, do you know I am technically not a personal assistant and that I’m doing this to get my career back?”

He gives her an ashamed smile, his teeth shown in it when he whispers a small: “I’m sorry. I’ll give you until five past two?” The thought alone has her wanting to rub her temples, but with the weight of a two-year-old in the shape of a folder now on her arms, she doesn’t think she can even muster to do such thing. “Listen, I know I sound like an asshole, but all these things are important things. We’ll have fun along the way.”

His face says it all. Dongyoung, outside of acting, can’t hide his expressions on what he feels. Remorse, as if he’s a child that broke a vase and now wants to glue it back together. She may give him the benefit of the doubt but only because— “I’m sure your dog will make me feel better once I got pick them up.”

“…And I ordered lunch for both of us, so it shouldn’t be that bad being my personal assistant.” Dongyoung says, looking down at his phone before rushing towards the door. “I have to go. Recording should have started by now.” She is about to comment on his food, for he’s only taking his green smoothie with him, but once she turns to look at his plate, it’s empty. The sandwich is long gone, along with the fruits.

Maybe, she should pay more attention to the job instead of arguing with him.

“Good luck?” She asks, though it’s meant to be an affirmation. While walking alongside him on the hallway, Dongyoung lets out a chuckle, taking a sip of that disgusting smoothie.

“Thank you. You, too.”

###

With her back directly pressed to the backrest of the couch, her legs part non-elegantly, head leaned back, a rough sigh leaving her nostrils. Granted, Dongyoung’s household is as equally as comfortable as the first time she was there, nine days ago to be exact, and while it’s nine at night—the usual time in which Dongyoung is back home, has eaten, and can finally spare her the benefit of going back home—the chattering around the mansion’s living room is enough to make her feel tired, as well as interested.

From the ceiling to the floor, the big windows in Dongyoung’s household show the stars, casting down on the extremely clean piano in front of it. The living room, however, departs from that elegant spot into something more leaned back. The interior designer definitely made a study of Dongyoung’s personality—gray and whites, a few blacks, so elegant that it almost hurts the eyes, but has the essence of a young guy, spacious enough for him to bring anyone he wants, for party-goers to get far too close in this place because they want to, not because they need to, and while she often gawks at the new spots she gets to discover of Dongyoung’s glass home, crafted at the excellence of him, his friends don’t seem to mind.

If she really studies them from up close, there is no reason why they would care. Johnny’s wrist is perfectly wrapped by a Rolex, holding a flute glass up to his lips to take a sip of his drink, sharing that enormous couch with her and another man and not being even remotely close to each other. The other man in question, Jungwoo, sports that new unreleased Gucci collection that Hyoyeon had not stopped talking about all over his body. Wealth, both of them just exude privilege.

Though, both of them have clicking links in her mind, more than Dongyoung ever did before their dramatic interview. Johnny can be seen with one-liners in movies, matched with upbeat tunes that are meant to accelerate the heart, more often than not cladded in clothing that shows his hard work on the gym, the stunts he does enough to gain him some recognition. An actor, just like Dongyoung, just for more of a different genre—action. The way he holds himself shows his pride in his craft, though that does not make him unapproachable, a smirk had plastered on his face the moment he met her not too long ago.

Jungwoo, she is more of a fan of. Not necessarily as much of a fan of him as her ex-editor, Sungmin, was, but she has watched all his movies. The rom-com actor, the one that has anyone muffling their screams into their pillows, wishing that they had someone that loved them. The sincerity in his tone has the watcher falling in the traps of his plush lips, delving into the intense romances that he is put in, and his eyes are the trappers of his movies, matching him into any possible desirable character. Looking at him is even more difficult when she is reminiscent of her past relationship, for she had watched too many of his movies in hopes of seeking that warmth that seemed to lack back in the day.

Her name is called into the thin air, dreaming cut to a short and bursting her out of her bubble when she realizes that there may have been a possibility that she was halfway into passing out on Dongyoung’s couch until Johnny called her. Opening her eyes groggily, she looks at the man with a movement of her head before he smiles. “I’m your biggest fan, you know?”

“Fan?!” Dongyoung and her ask in unison, turning to look at each other just in time to catch their states. Dongyoung is sprawled on the couch across from them, drinking from his own flute glass while he speaks to his friends. His legs are parted, one of top of the headrest, the other caressing the ground, one hand placed on top of his abdomen, body cladded on a casual outfit. “Sorry.” He utters, looking at her for a brief second before she returns her gaze to Johnny.

“You have to be joking.” She says with a half-smile, only to have Jungwoo shaking his head from the other end of the couch.

“He’s not. We had the best laugh with your interview.” Jungwoo says excitedly in that soft tone of his, her smile dropping and making her cheeks deflate almost immediately. Sometimes, she even forgets about the interview that happened a little bit over a month ago. Perhaps, it’s the self-protection system inside her brain that is trying to make her feel better, or it simply is starting to become irrelevant to her. A mistake, one of too many.

Though, this hurts her, leaving her with a short mumble that says: “I see…”

“Guys, don’t say that.” Dongyoung points out, a lift on his tone when he sits up on his couch. “She was taking it seriously. It’s mean of you to tell her that it was funny—”

“Because of your face, asshole.” Johnny interrupts him, searching for something on his phone as he smiles to himself. “You just made it difficult for her, but thanks to that moment we got the best pictures from Dongyoung. We have been using it in the group-chat endlessly.” The screen of his phone is turned towards her, cropped images of the funniest facial expressions from Dongyoung made for everyone to see.

“We admire you. You really made Dongyoung uncomfortable.” Jungwoo says, that little glint of mischief in his eyes unexpected from him. Once he takes the last sip of his glass, cheeks tinted thanks to his tipsiness, he rests his hands on his knees. “Ever since his girlfriend broke up with him, we haven’t been able to have a good laugh with him. The moment that interview happened; we saw some expression on Dongyoung’s face that looked…alive, for the first time in a while, at least.”

But, what a way to be alive. The moment she saw him on the red carpet, she would have thought of Dongyoung to be the happiest man in the world, and for her to step over it thanks to ignorance had made her feel a bit guilty. She had ruined his night, just like how he had ruined hers. “Damn, thanks, I guess?” She scratches the back of her head, looking towards Dongyoung who seems to be ready to argue.

“I was not acting as if I was dead. I was just going through a scandal—”

“A fake scandal, at that.” Johnny answers, making her turn to him. The image of Hyoyeon talking about Dongyoung’s scandal appears inside her brain. Dongyoung had supposedly cheated, putting him as the bad man of the relationship, though there was little to no information about it. Would asking be wrong…?

Dongyoung leans back on his couch, the leather rustling when he rolls his eyes. “It doesn’t matter anymore. Tabloids blew it out of proportion.”

“Did they?” She asks, too softly that she thinks she was the only one who heard it, but Dongyoung opens his eyes just in time to look at her.

“You may think they didn’t because I’m a celebrity and you’re a journalist, but most of your people really just want a story out there, so they create anything—”

“I know, but I’m not like that.” She says, trying to clear her name because, most likely, those men in the room only knew her as that one woman that had gone viral for embarrassing Kim Dongyoung. Or disrespecting him, rather. Her love for journalism goes past gossip. “Gossip exists for a reason, and most of the time my people—like you said—write articles and our bosses tell us to make it more interesting. I was actually against that. I’m a cinematography-based interviewer and journalist. I am more worried about your talent than I could ever be about who you were with.”

Dongyoung frowns at that, seemingly interested in what she is saying, as if a weight was lifted off his shoulders. “Then…why did you ask who was my companion in the red carpet? Weren’t you trying to get me to talk about my break-up?”

“No. Dongyoung, I was not trying to compare you to your brother or get you to talk about your ex. I just didn’t know who you were. Entirely. Nothing. Zero. I had to ask the common stuff.” She replies, biting the inside of her cheek before she hears Johnny whistling from beside her.

“You want to know the details about Dongyoung’s break up, though?”

Dongyoung’s face stops showing a small smile, thrown her way to be exact, when he hears those words. Taking the few droplets of alcohol inside his flute glass, he throws it Johnny’s way and it clings to his face, thankfully not landing inside his eyes. “Do not dare paint me in a bad light in front of my personal assistant.”

“…And our hero.” Jungwoo corrects, bringing a smile up her features before she stands up.

“Actually, to spare Dongyoung the headache if you drunkenly confess something to me, I’m just going to go home.” She pulls the fabric of her t-shirt down, moving away from the couch and going over to where Dongyoung is seated. Her hand reaches forward to pat his head, a way of showing him to be weary of how much he drinks. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Be careful, okay?”

“I will. Good night.”

“Good night.” She tells him, moving towards the set of stairs that lead to the excellently protected door with, like, a hundred codes, but not before throwing a wave of her hand over her shoulder. “It was a pleasure to meet you, guys!”

“Same!” She hears Johnny say, but her mind is too occupied in connecting the dots of the story that is Dongyoung and his ex. It’s none of her business, it shouldn’t be, to pry on personal information has never been like herself. Gossip is not part of her, actually, but that curiousness that overtakes her only comes because of Dongyoung. He seems serious, in most occasions, easy to tease and to anger, but overall…he’s inoffensive. Nothing about him screams cheater, though faces can be seen but souls can never be discovered. That thought lingers inside her head, for his friends find it funny and Dongyoung seems ashamed of it.

…Do they think it’s fun that he cheated?

Or did he really cheat?

Johnny did say it was fake—

The crisp air of the night touches her skin, moving towards the car in a hassle, wanting to get out of there as soon as possible. Celebrities are the same—they are heartless beings, looking for more and more to take, and he shouldn’t be any different. If anything, he’s the most celebrity-esque person to ever exist. In some way or another, she’ll get a confirmation that the angel-faced actor is nothing more than a cheater.

###

“Hello, class.” The person in front of her, an instructor at that, extends their hands freely, landing all fingers together in a curve as a way of relaxation. A deep breath in that she is supposed to mimic—if Dongyoung doing the same action by her side is anything to go by—is given by the yoga instructor, spreading her fingertips once again. “Today, we’re doing friendship yoga. This will strengthen professional bonds along with friendships.”

The trails of sleepiness cling to her eyelids, shown in her body with how relaxed it was before the yoga instructor spoke up about whatever ‘friendship yoga’ is supposed to mean. For such an early morning in Dongyoung’s free day, the least she would expect him to do is yoga. His sleep is almost a sacred thing for him, if not the only thing that he will ever love more than anyone, so for him to wake up early when there are no recordings and to invite her to join him along the way seems suspicious. Enough for her to stop rubbing at her eyes, staring at Dongyoung inside his own personal gym with fire beneath her eyes, burning with the rampant hatred she feels for him right at that moment.

“What?” She utters in a whisper, nearing him, now realizing the exact reason why he had asked her to come in comfortable clothing. Wearing an oversized shirt and sweatpants, Dongyoung seems to get ready, but her most comfortable outfit is, surprisingly but also not at all, a pair of leggings and a t-shirt. “…You never told me we were doing yoga. We—You have friends to do this with!”

“We’re always arguing, so I thought doing something together would help us…stop arguing. Let everything go, you know?” While the excuse makes sense, much more when her sleepy state has her looking at Dongyoung for a second longer, collarbones peaking from his white t-shirt and making her stare down momentarily, reminiscent of the time she saw him without that white fabric on top of him, it still doesn’t settle well with her. The yoga instructor in front of her, however, sporting a relaxed smile on her features, seems to find the situation funny, if the smile is anything to go by. “Do it for me, please?”

“…I get a little bit more of money at the end of this month.”

“Wow, is spending time with me really that tedious? Enough for you to ask for more payment in your salary?”

“Dongyoung, I don’t need friendship yoga. We just need to—”

Her voice is cut to a halt when she feels someone’s hands resting on top of her shoulders, kneading the muscles there only to feel the tightness hurting to the most profound particles of her being. Her eyes widen in surprise, hearing the soft hum of the instructor, Duri, who starts to talk after rubbing at her trapezius. “You need to let go of this pent-up tension you have with you. It’s only dragging feelings of negativity towards your soul. You have the same issue as Dongyoung, too explosive…” The slow tone of her voice has her sighing, pulling away from her with a tug before standing in front of Dongyoung.

“I don’t have any problem, because I’m doing this and then, I’m getting out of here.” Duri seems to be pleased by her answer, moving towards her laptop to hit the space bar, the Bluetooth speakers bathing the sun-lit gym in a soft, relaxing tune, mixed with the sounds of rain. Faux, at that, the day is as shiny as ever.

“I need you two to trust each other…place your hands together, mimic the motions of the other…”

Dongyoung splays his hands in front of her, extending her own fingertips to match the circular motions he is doing in the air, the warmth of his skin seeping into hers when she starts talking: “Where did you even find her? I didn’t know you practiced yoga.”

“Jungwoo does, he recommended her to me once and I never called her again.” He whispers back, only to have her snorting out a laugh.

“And you’re getting me into this?”

“He said it would strengthen—”

“No talking, we’re relaxing…” Duri sighs the words out, making her straighten her back before the instructor’s fingers point towards the electric blue yoga mat on the flooring. “I need you to kneel there, in front of each other.”

By his sweet face, there is a look of annoyance, kneeling down at the same time that she does and looking her way. The sunrays lay on top of his tired expression, probably not getting enough hours of sleep just to strengthen whatever friendship they don’t have. If getting him to drink his greens, picking up his dog and spending time with him at almost every hour of the day is friendship…then, she has a new concept of it.

“Closer.” Duri instructs, almost gasping when Dongyoung moves closer to her, his face looking ahead at her when his chest presses to hers. The expanse of his body clouds her, vision becoming blurry when inspecting his face to the point she has to look to the side. “Now, grab each other’s arms around the elbow area and lean back slowly. This will show that you trust each other…and it will also release any remorse inside of you.” The dramatic punctuation of the word release has her pressing her lips together, reaching for Dongyoung’s skinny arms and gripping them in between her fingertips, leaning back by the time she feels the muscles of his abdomen pressing against hers.

His chuckle is drowned by the music, much more when he says—and sarcasm has finally made a way to his voice—. “This is so relaxing, Duri.”

“Release that hate. Come on.” Duri, taking it far too seriously because it’s her job, would probably lose her cool if she saw the expression on her face, but a minute or so pass by before she asks them to go back in position. “Now, sit down on the mat.”

Following after her instructions, she looks over her shoulder to talk to Duri. “…What do we do after?”

“Rest your feet against the other’s. Place your legs up high, without bending your knees.”

“I don’t think I can do that.” Dongyoung mutters, pressing her feet to hers before she lifts them up in a hassle, straightening her legs to the point Dongyoung’s feet slip away from their position against hers and she ends up resting hers against his calves. “Oh shit, wait, I can’t extend my legs that much—”

“Ooh, I’m more athletic than Kim Dongyoung? Who would have thought?”

“I don’t put my legs up in the air all the time!” Dongyoung complains, placing his legs down before pushing at her shoulder, almost making her lose her balance, but she retaliates soon enough, pushing at his shoulder as well.

With a frown on her features, though playful, she answers his comment: “And you mean to tell me I do?!”

“That’s—That’s not what I said!” The blush on his features is funny, making her push her lips together when Duri rests her hands against Dongyoung’s shoulders, leaning him back on his mat without saying much. Her annoyance levels must be higher than Dongyoung’s mansion itself.

“Please, try not to raise your voice, we’re in a moment of relaxation…” This is serious for Duri, enough to have the smile erasing from her features when Duri pulls away from Dongyoung, now laying down on the mat, to look at her. “We’ll do some carrying yoga positions. Dongyoung will be under you, his feet supporting your weight by your center,” Duri’s hands place themselves on top of her own abdomen, showing exactly where they should be located. One look to Dongyoung’s face shows the same mortified expression that must be on hers, the closeness in between the two unbearable when they are face to face. Eyes widened, lips parted, they can barely speak when Duri continues explaining. “And you’ll get to do several positions of your own. Extending your back, your legs. This will make you trust him. Jungwoo told me Dongyoung trusts you a lot with his life, so you need to trust him as well.”

The rumor that goes around Duri’s lips brings confusion to her. Dongyoung trusts her, that much should be knowledgeable but still, it surprises her. He trusts her enough to carry one of his oldest cars around when working, to listen to what his friends say and to be around him, even when she’s a journalist. He trusts her enough to let paparazzi take pictures of the two together, never thinking about it twice. These thoughts go through her brain when she stands in front of Doyoung’s extended legs, her fingers slotting in between his when his feet prop themselves on her abdomen.

“Do you trust me?” She asks, and soon after Dongyoung lifts her up in the air. From the position, the air is knocked out of her lungs, Dongyoung’s legs wobbling a bit before he gains his balance again. Her fingers tighten around his, looking at his expression while he bites down on his bottom lip to keep his strength.

“I do,” He huffs out, finally learning how to find his equilibrium, looking up at Duri to wait for more instructions, but when the woman starts speaking, something seems to bite at his curiousness. “Do you trust me?”

“…I don’t know.” She utters softly, the air in between them cut by Duri’s voice.

“You’ll trail your feet down her thighs and she’ll have to straighten her back. The only way to keep that position is if she wraps her calves around your legs and you two keep the equilibrium. Once you do, let go of her hands.”

Why can’t she trust Dongyoung? Is it because she feels like she knows so much about him that she doesn’t know him? She knows his daily routines; that he brushes his teeth far more than he should, that he simply can’t stand that green smoothie that Sujin keeps making, and that he calls his mother in the middle of the day to ask how she’s doing. He’s sharp, but he’s not prickly—he’ll never hurt anyone he loves, practically beaming the moment he talks to his family. She knows he is irregular with his exercising, that he rolls his eyes at whatever Johnny says but that he inherently listens. There is so much she acknowledges about him, but there are plenty of things in his story that are inconclusive, as if, in a way, he doesn’t trust her as much as he claims to say.

She straightens her back, but immediately loses her balance even when Dongyoung feet are propped on her thighs. “Do this properly, you got us in this position!” She tells him, a little bit enraged at the faux relaxing music, at herself, at Dongyoung for even thinking that this was going to unite them, but she gets a scowl from him.

“If I put my feet any further up your thighs, I’m going to end up tying your tubes.” The comment has her closing her eyes as if not to laugh, the seriousness of the situation cut short when she wraps her calves around his own legs, hands shaking while they hold onto his. “I’m sorry I got you into this. For making you lose your job, for having your as my personal assistant and for making you do questionable yoga.”

She leans forward, not sure if she wants to let go of his hands at this moment, because it feels warm and safe. Warmth, safety, two things that she would have never compared Dongyoung to, but now looking at him from above, she sees the peaceful on his gaze. Part of her knows that he never meant it, for all of this to happen, it took two to dance into this mess that they are now in. “I’d trust you more if—” A gasp leaves her lips when Dongyoung lets go of her hands, mixed with the squeal she lets out when she extends her arms to keep her balance. “If you just opened up to me more.”

“I feel like I know nothing about you, as well.” Dongyoung complains, her eyes trailing down to look at his extended hands, just in case she falls. Would he do the same if something went wrong now that they are a team? “M—Maybe it was a bad idea to try to get to know you more through yoga.”

She chuckles at that, for the first time feeling like she is not tied to Dongyoung simply because of her job. This thread of lines around her chest, all burning into her skin, hurting her in prickly grips, lets go with a liberating force. “It was not the conventional method, but I think it’s…fun.”

“I think so, too.” The sound of Duri pushing the space bar on her laptop is the only thing that is heard after she turns the music off. The tall woman places her hands on top of her hips, one leg jolted forward to show her distaste. “So, are you going to actually pay attention and have fun or should I just tell Jungwoo that his plans of having you two become friends are pointless?”

Jungwoo, the man that had called her his hero. Of course, this couldn’t have been only Dongyoung’s idea.

Speaking of the man himself, his legs give in finally, bolting her body forward until his legs are resting on each side of her body, parted, and her elbows dig into his chest uncomfortably, stealing a breath away from him. Dongyoung’s ears are closed in pain, rubbing at his thighs when he speaks to Duri. “Yeah, Duri, I’m sorry…but I don’t think neither of us are fitted for this.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll just pick my stuff up and go.” Duri’s relaxed tone says before taking her by the arm, dragging her up and away from Dongyoung in a matter of seconds. “If I were you, I wouldn’t trust him. There’s a saying about men with weak knees; they never support anybody.”

Dongyoung frowns at that, two lines forming on top of his nose when he sits up on the yoga mat. “Well, it’s not always I have to support my personal assistant on my feet, thank you very much.”

Absentmindedly, he had done something. In the depths of her soul, she feels as though Dongyoung is not much of an enigmatic, well-prepared, immaculately logical villain that waits for the right moment to stab her in the back. He is, just like he said that time by the stairs, simply trying to mend a mistake he made.

But now, at the beginning of their day together as personal assistant and actor, the uncertainty of it all falls on the fact that she doesn’t know if that makes her feel better or worse.

###

The security system beeps after she inserts the code, opening the door with her free hand, the other holding the container that includes Dongyoung’s food, ready for another day or recording. This time around for his movie, just a clarification that her phone brightened her mind with once she had woken up, alarm sounding like the shrilling touch of nails against a whiteboard. Once the door closes behind her, she basks in the mere silence of the dimly lit room—big windows, this mansion may have, but with Dongyoung using black curtains to keep his privacy to the highest amount, the place looks as if it was the doom when he is not awake, bathed in the glow of his security system only.

The more she walks into the place, up the stairs carefully and into the living room, her fingers trail over the curtains and pull them slightly, the welcomed sight of the Sun bringing warmth to her body. This routine of the past two months has been liberating in a way—different, like an intern in some magazine that works immensely different from the other ones, but refreshing in its outcome. Walking up another set of stairs, the playroom is the first thing she sees—too many videogames that she’d rather skip looking, she has already been threatened by her own thoughts to simply skip work and play there for a while. You know, just for fun.

Though, fun it is to work with Dongyoung. Watching a new sight of an actor such as himself, too well-prepared and obsessed with following the script, is something any journalist would wish for. Sometimes, when they do get to his mansion to share dinner—just like they do with lunch—, she swears she sees him opening up more. Not about his past, itself, but about his beliefs. What he finds right, wrong, annoying, interesting. What movie he likes, her opinion on it taken into consideration, and the films will even be played in the background if they have time.

Opening the door to Dongyoung’s room, not knocking after he told her that he’s a, through and through, heavy sleeper long ago, the same darkness has her sighing. Her fingers touch around the place to find any kind of surface; whether it is his desk or his vanity. Much to her delight, his desk comes in contact with her hands, feeling his laptop and his phone on top of it. Once the bag is settled down softly, the curtains are pulled in a hassle, trying to make as much as noise possible to wake up Dongyoung.

Or annoy him, God only knows what she wants.

…But maybe, it’s to annoy him.

For someone whose color-scheme around his mansion is white, gray, more shades of white and some black, his bedroom seems to be livelier. Brown shades, some beiges, some darker, all around the decorations, from the cushions on his bed to the blanket thrown over his body, fluffy enough to make his slim body disappear on the king-sized bed. The wood of the desks looks rich, barely even rough under her fingertips, sturdy for the amount of pictures he has around it, as well as some of those expensive matters that he keeps lying around—some jewelry, a ring that he always likes wearing without meaning at all, and his laptop that could very well have android qualities and speak to her one of these days with how expensive it is.

“Morning, morning, Dongyoung. We have a movie shoot today, and Sujin said you have to be there early because paparazzi are already crowding the street and you’d get there late if you don’t wake up now.” She speaks, voice quick when she goes over the first bit of his day, the patter of his dog’s paws making her smile softly as she picks the white poodle toy dog from the floor, lifting her up until she is resting on her waist. “Dongyoung, I said good morning. Even your daughter is asking for you—”

When she pulls the covers away from his body, she doesn’t expect him to let out the noise he makes. A soft, guttural moan that falls in the back of his throat. Resting on his abdomen, arms sprawled on top of his pillows, Dongyoung’s cheek is squished against the material, barely opening one eye to look at her. The worst part is that she feels her heart pick up when he closes his eyes again, giving her a smile in the softest but slowest of matters when he realizes it is her.

Once his body twists, the sleeve of his tank top falls off, showcasing his shoulder for her to look at before clearing her throat. Dongyoung reaches forward, patting all over her body blindly, patting around her arm and knee. “Where’s the booze button? I need to shut you up for, like, five more minutes.”

“You don’t have five more minutes.” The hardest part is to not concentrate on Dongyoung. She excels at it in most occasions, rushing through everything just to not stay there for too long and hence, not being able to look at how absolutely breathtaking Dongyoung is even early in the morning, void of any trace of makeup, hair done a mess.

He sighs, rubbing at his eyes and extending his limbs with a soft gush of breath escaping his lips. “Can’t you just be pretty and not tell me anything once?”

“That’s not my job.” She tells him, putting his dog down before moving towards where he is. Kneeling beside the bed, she runs her fingertips through Dongyoung’s hair until he is smiling once again, utterly pleased by her ministrations. That is until she tugs at the strands, bringing that beautiful frown out of him. “My job is to get you out of your bed so you can have millions of women around the country dying for you, so…wake up.”

When she stands up, Dongyoung gives one final turn on his bed, finally sitting up just in time for her to look at the way he runs his fingers through his achy scalp, yawning softly and extending his arms over his head. He may not be regular on the gym, but his physique has always been quite artistic to her. As if, in a way, he’d never realize just how some sculptures could envy the beauty that he holds. “Joke’s on you.” Dongyoung says, ignored by her when she moves towards the door and opens it quickly, Dongyoung’s dog—Mio—following after her.

“Why?”

“You’re still pretty even when you’re talking shit endlessly.” The comment falls on deaf ears. An actor like him, who probably saw women of the highest of calibers every day, could never consider the interviewer obsessed with t-shirts and leggings as a pretty woman. A normal man? Probably, the type to have a nine-to-five job and probably two women liking him, not someone like…Kim Dongyoung, the country’s heartthrob.

For, uncertainty will always be a dress she wears around him, and it has been settled by her to always hate the garment. “…Just s—shut up.” She fails on keeping her stutter in when she shuts the door behind her, and she swears she hears Dongyoung chuckling to himself.

The more she spends days with Dongyoung, the more she realizes just how different they are, and no matter how much he tries to integrate her into his world, she’ll never match. The darkness of his mansion is not for her, much less is it the coding system. The van is a little bit too much and the shutters of cameras when the two of them get out of the automobile makes her squint her eyes, while he is looking ahead as if the blinding lights don’t bother him. Dongyoung talks to her as if there are not hundreds of people around them, as if the paparazzi could not hear what they are saying, and she has to pretend like she is not bothered about the people that step on her feet or that point their cameras more at her because: the scandal of having her, that one interviewer that everyone thought Dongyoung hated, around him is just too much to bear, too beautiful to grasp.

But this is what this is. A scandal, a call for attention, nothing more, nothing less. Dongyoung would never be seen, even when dead, around someone like her in a normal setting—with an average outcome, a love for cinematography and journalism. Dongyoung is seen around actors, dating models and actresses, be-friending those who are around his net-worth, not because he needs it…but because that’s his line of work. Those are all the people he knows.

And had she not committed such a mistake, he would have never given her the time of the day, much less would have become friends with her. They would have been kept separated, sufficiently close for an interview, but never enough to have everyone shooting pictures of them looking for answers.

He doesn’t realize it, either, when she walks a little bit quicker just to get away from the cameras. They have enough pictures, hopefully his plan works soon and she can have her job back…because spending more time with Dongyoung will only bring her closer to this feeling she can’t quite explain, that tightness around her heart that only keeps her at ease when he is around.

###

“Hey!” Dongyoung calls out for her, typical, much more when he’s about to shoot. Seated by the makeup artists, she looks up from her phone to see Dongyoung waving at her, right in front of the cameras with a faint smile on his features. The set today looks different—a bed, dimly lit, with red covers and what seems to be a mess around it. One of the most difficult scenes for the actors, and even for her to watch. “Care to help me practice my lines?”

Her eyebrows shoot up, laughing at Dongyoung straight to his face. Absentmindedly, her fingers point at her chest, settling her phone down in the process. “Me? I’m your personal assistant, not your co-star. Let me be.”

“Come on, the actress hasn’t gotten here and I want to see if I can say things well.” Dongyoung utters, the reason as to why the makeup artists behind her sigh dreamily. The Dongyoung effect, maybe, or maybe she just keeps that sigh to herself whenever the man smiles at her a little too sincerely. “I’ll give you my script, you’ll play the prostitute.”

Those words make her halter her steps even when she has already stood up from her seat, scoffing at his words right after he says them: “Way to go, I’ll be the hooker.” Though, she snatches the script away from his hands. The lights of the set feel even harsher in that spot, the camera pointed directly at her, making her freeze in fear. A soft breath leaves her lips, barely audible and shaky, ripping through her chest while she tries not to remember the last time she was in front of a camera. It all went badly; clammy hands, stuttered words, blank spaces in her brain. “The cameras are not going to be on, right?”

“No, no, they will not.” Dongyoung tells her, looking at her face for any signs of discomfort before calling the cameraman. “Hey, care to point it another way while she helps me practice?”

His realization, sharp and intelligent, has her lessening the tension on her muscles when she looks down at the script at hand. There it is, the hooker character that she is supposed to play. “Tell me this is not the sex scene, please.”

Dongyoung laughs at her words, wholeheartedly, one hand brought to his chest when he lets the sound live in a free manner in such a filled and cramped space. “Pre-sex scene. Why? Want to help me out with the other one?”

Groaning, she tilts her head back, covering her face with the script. “It’s already difficult for me to have to watch you shooting that softcore sex scene. I don’t need you reminding me that I’ll be here for it.”

“Whatever,” He mumbles, taking his seat on top of the bed before pointing at his script with his hand. “Read the first line. It’s yours.”

This may be serious for him. To be under the lights must not be difficult for him, much less in front of a camera. Her confidence, now further deflated with the death of her job, becomes even lower the moment she reads the first line. Acting is just that; the unity of words, scene, camera-work and storyline to make everything function as if it was part of real life, a story to be told, but when she reads over the first scene, perhaps expertly played by the real actress, but not like herself, the words die down on the tip of her tongue. “Aren’t you—?” She cuts herself short, shaking her head. “I can’t do it.”

Dongyoung looks around at that, crossing his arms over his chest when saying: “It’s just a line.” But it’s definitely not a line that she’d say in front of people, much less when she remembers that someone is going to say this line to Dongyoung’s character, while dressed in that leather jacket that will always have a spot in her heart—even more so now that they added badges to it. This is just a line, part of what the character has to say, and the image of Dongyoung kissing this character—the first one in the season, is enough to have her blood boiling, just the slightest bit. Enough for it to be noticeable to her, at least. “…Why is it so difficult? We’re just acting.”

“Ugh, you’re insufferable,” She says, looking down at the blurring script when she reads out. “Aren’t you supposed to be the officer here? Go ahead, handcuff me—” Once she reads over the line, she tosses the script at his chest, watching him laugh with glee and bringing a grin up and out of her. “How do you expect me to say that line?! The only thing that needed to be added there to make it even more cringe-worthy is something along the lines of ‘daddy’, like what the hell is this?!”

Even someone from the production team seems to be laughing at her reaction, and Dongyoung has very well spread his body on top of the bed while laughing. “It’s not supposed to be sexual yet, oh my God—!”

His fingers hook around the script, resting it on top of her thigh just as he hears her speak. Adoration is written on his features, perhaps enjoying too much the fact that he gets to fluster her. “Yeah, what is it supposed to be?”

“A legit handcuffing scene. You’re on the wrong page. I realized when you picked up the script, but I let your mind reel whichever way you wanted it to go.” Dongyoung answers, giving her just enough time to launch her fists forward and hit his chest softly, his ribcage vibrating with every ounce of his laughter. “You’re so dirty without letting anyone know.”

“Shut up. I thought it was something else.” She answers, only to have Dongyoung wiggling his eyebrows.

“Oh, I know.” He answers, soon after patting the spot beside him before she takes it, looking into his concentrated eyes while he moves to the right page. “You don’t have to act them out…or say the entire sentence, you can just say the initiation and make sure that I say mine properly, word by word.”

This is the part of him that people never evaluate; that, had she known of him at the time, she would have loved to interview and question the time they met. He’s given to his work, entranced in the worlds of bringing a character to life, make it his, but also differentiate himself from the person that he is in front of the camera. The few undone buttons of his shirt under the leather jacket are not enough to take her gaze away from his concentrated eyes when he says line after line, perfectly, his hours of studying the script coming to a good conclusion for this show. Once it launches, people are going to fall in love for his character…but, who knows? Her problem may not fall on the character, per say, but on Kim Dongyoung himself.

###

May the laughter never die down, she hopes. May his always remain loud and clear, with a gummy smile paired in between even when she doesn’t get a front row sight of it just like now. Duri would have been proud of them if she saw them, time after her class, limbs interlocking with one another while they toss and torn on the flooring. His punches are soft against her face, and she lands some kicks on his side in this play-fighting thing that has been going around for the slightest of whiles. After all, when Dongyoung said ‘fight me’, she loved to take the literacy of it and turn it into a reality.

But not a lot of people get to see this—the raw side of Dongyoung, the one that shows just how ticklish he is, or that one moment of the night in which his retainers are on and he looks a thousand times less…celebrity-like. Gorgeous beyond explanation, he will always be, but this sight of him as she lands a soft punch on his gut, one that has him faking a gasp, is one that she doesn’t want anyone else to see.

Hyoyeon questions her reality at times, and Sujin turns a blind eye into the situation. Her take on it? She doesn’t want to conceptualize it. Days without Dongyoung are rare, but how can they not be when he calls her just for everything and anything. She doesn’t want to think of the fact that play-fighting with him feels as though she is fighting with herself, because she would love to be able to wrap her arms around him and simply hold him close for eternity. For once, she’d like for him to laugh with her and never again feel like she shouldn’t get too close. This flutter in her soul makes her think if this is as endless as it feels, or it’s just a matter of time before magazines start calling for her and she has to leave.

Now, seated beside Dongyoung and tickling his sides, the sound of his laughter is addictive, so much so that she feels egotistic simply holding him here. With her. People love to think that they have become friends, that he has forgiven her, but no one would ever dare to look too close. Hyoyeon and Jason may be right, questioning her intentions of ever wanting to go back to interviewing when she has been so happy there, with Dongyoung, attending him but also having attending her.

Making sure she eats.

Always sending her a goodnight text.

Boosting her confidence with little comments here and there.

When she stops, Dongyoung is still laughing, but he may not realize that she is smiling—but not enjoying this moment as much. Journalism will always be her one lover, but…this she feels has been dead long before, only to be brought alive for him. This sense of passion for something else that isn’t cinematography, instead of looking for movies to live a life of her own, she has…a story. A story that initiates, develops and ends.

“D—Did I punch you for real?” Dongyoung asks, bottom lip stuck in between his teeth when he asks her such thing, and she wants nothing more than to punch some sense into him. For him to fire her so she doesn’t have to look at him for longer and wonder what it would be like if famous actor Kim Dongyoung fell for her. If, for once, she would be as confident as she was back then and ask him the questions she has always wanted to unthread from its confines.

What happened with your last relationship?

Why does everyone think you cheated, Dongyoung?

…If you did, would you do it again?

Has your nice-guy image only been a glimpse of my imagination?

“No,” She answers, patting his abdomen just by the time she stands up, pointing towards the kitchen with a soft shrug of her shoulders. “I just got hungry. Maybe, we should be eating instead of playing around like that.”

“Come on, don’t be boring.” Dongyoung points out, reaching for a strand of her hair and pulling it softly. “You were the one that started the physical fight. I’m more of a debate guy myself.”

Though, she can only give him a short chuckle, hoping that he doesn’t realize that she already knows the matter…knows him for the person he is daily, and yet fears ever knowing him more, because these glimpses of his life have been enough to have her falling in love.

And he’ll never fall for someone like her.

###

Movement will always be a strange matter to her; how electricity deals even with the slightest of glides of her fingertips against the fabric of his tie, rubbing the soft and delicate material in between them before tying it snugly. Some movements can’t be felt, like the one that her heart is doing to go unnoticed by him, and the faint buzz of the elevator that holds them up and towards Dongyoung’s interview. The brown walls, dim golden lights, will never do justice to the man in front of her, always so polished when cladded on a suit, never close enough for her to remember everything about him.

Dongyoung holds beauty in him, he must know this, or at least she hopes he does. In him, even in the most intricate parts of his personality that he never gets to enjoy, and a word will never be told about this to him out loud, much less when she is talking about other things to him. Like, let’s say, how he needs to talk in this interview—how to avoid questions, how not to, how to answer some of the most difficult ones perfectly, how to probably become one of the wittiest celebrities nowadays. While voicing out the turning gears inside her head that are telling her, begging her, to compliment him is as difficult as it can get, speaking about journalism and interviews…not so much.

“What do I do if they ask about you? What do I say?” Dongyoung asks, this elevator going far too slow or the skyscraper just has too many floors. His eyes are what captivate her first when she finds herself still holding onto his tie, the elevator not powerful enough to move her out of her spot there, in front of him.

Everything with him feels like it shouldn’t electrify her this much, that it shouldn’t feel as though her hands are cramping and her heart drops to the pit of her stomach. As if, for some odd reason of the complexities in the chemistry of the human body, she can’t help but smile in most occasions when around him. “You just say we’re friends,” She tells him, tugging at the tie on his neck and hearing a breath getting caught in his throat. “And that I have to do your ties when you loosen them because you’re a poor excuse of a celebrity.”

Dongyoung frowns at that, pressing his index finger to her forehead in a teasing manner, making sure to rub it on the skin and bring a chuckle out of her. “You’re my assistant, you have to do something.”

“Oh, I do something.” But, one simple glance at him already feels like he is pulling her closer and closer to the depths of the masses that fall for him. For this image that Dongyoung has that exudes comfort, that screams romanticism in the oddest of ways—the type of man that will probably most likely prefer to stab his tongue with a fork than to say something remotely cheesy, but on the long run…will probably sneak in something romantic.

“Like what?” He prompts, still staring at her and her hands surprise her when they glide down to rest on the fabric of his black blazer, matching his hair, parted exactly how she met him—how she likes it, really.

“…Like trying to forget that you look this good right now.” She whispers, fingertips splaying across his heart, as if hoping to hear a heartbeat equally as rushed as hers. She can’t feel him, but her eyes can make out the figure of him when his eyes widen for a fraction of a second, lips parting ever so slightly just when his eyes glide to look at her features, everything around her face that can have the lights on top of them glistening even more on his brown irises.

“Is that so?” Dongyoung asks, face growing closer to hers when his eyes connect to her lips, his tongue slotting out to lick at his. “Because I have an image in my head I can’t really forget, and it’s all your fault.”

That breathlessness that characterizes her when around him makes its presence known when she breaths out the question: “What is that image you’re talking about?”

“You, the afternoon we met.”

Her fingers push together, suddenly hyperaware of where she is. The numbers on the elevator get closer to their floor, she is far too close to him, and she’s there because of that damned afternoon, not because of anything else— “Yeah, I don’t think you’ll ever forget that, I embarrassed us—”

Dongyoung’s fingers spread around her waist, thumb coming in contact with her ribcage, soft caresses of the digit against the fabric of her t-shirt. So unkempt, yet in her most natural stance. “It’s not about that. Why don’t you ever let me speak?”

“…Because you always say something stupid.”

“Either way,” Dongyoung rolls his eyes, a small smile appearing on his features. The elevator keeps buzzing in the background, softly, almost not perceivable if it was not for the overdrive of the adoring nature that blooms inside her chest when around him. “I never got the chance to tell you that you looked like a dream that time around. That violet dress…” His voice trails, his thumb pressing down on her skin softly, stopping his ministrations as if to ground himself. His body is close, close enough for the warmth of him to radiate over her, abdomens pressed together, and if she looks at him close enough, she swears she can see a blush under all that makeup. “All I kept thinking about was you in that dress the entire night.”

“Yeah, and also our interview.” She replies, breathy enough that the laughter that follows soon after dies down when she realizes the closeness of him. A thick gulp of her own is enough to showcase just how affected she is—thanks to his existence itself, to the way they met, to the situation in which they are in, in which she can feel every movement of his lungs against hers, back dipped to be closer to him, wanting to wrap her cold fingertips on the back of his suit, trailing down his shoulders, give him that one kiss that he seems to silently be begging for.

“Also, our interview.” Dongyoung replies. “Though, no matter how cringe-worthy it was, it got us to meet.”

“I’m glad it happened.” The situation falls on her like a bucket of cold water, because she was glad it happened. As in, Dongyoung had brought so much joy into her life that, in a way, it was meant to happen to her that said interview went wrongly.

“Huh, what did you say?” Dongyoung questions, one of his big smiles on his face and just when she is about to return it, the sound of the elevator doors opening dings rather too loudly, like the shatter of glass against the flooring as Sujin speaks in a cheery tone.

“Dongyoung, people are already waiting for you!”

Nothing would hurt more than the slip of his fingertips on her waist, like the sigh that left his lips when their bodies were no longer pushed together, when the pure magnetism of him is enough to make her feel powerless only she sees him slipping away from her. Not for long, however, because she needs to follow after Sujin and Dongyoung when the manager’s fingers reach for her wrist, dragging her away from the elevator that welcomed a sense of realization. Dongyoung had been equally as captivated with her as she had been with him the time they met. Or so she wants to believe.

###

After-parties are, to put it simply, the culprit of most of the scandals that celebrities get involved in. There are too many secrets to be discovered when being a journalist in the middle of an after-party event, but since the title just simply stands as her degree and not her occupation currently, she has to act as Dongyoung’s personal assistant only. Standing near the bar with him, a bottle of beer brought up to his lips while they converse about this and that, she finds herself leaning away from the gossip her eyes could capture—and could possibly confirm to Hyoyeon for a premise—to instead concentrate on him. What’s new? She doesn’t know, but it always feels as though watching him is a refreshing moment each time. Different, Dongyoung will always be different from the rest, and in the best of ways.

The buttons of his white shirt are opened, giving a glimpse of the necklace around his neck, that one ring he likes shining far too brightly when resting against the freezing cold bottle of beer. After hiding away from the world for the season finale, barely doing so much as eating if she doesn’t pressure him to do so. As it seems, now that the first season is recorded and will eventually be released to the world, Dongyoung has some time to enjoy a cold treat, though the tiredness in his features is far too much for her to bear. Still beautiful, yet endlessly tired, enough to have him complaining about it every once in a while.

At least, he voices out his concerns.

Dongyoung’s eyes widen momentarily while he is speaking, something behind of her making him widen his eyes and this is enough to be denoted with how expressive he is. Maybe, he’s a good actor—but he’s not good enough to lie to her. His body grows uncomfortable at that moment, leaning forward to where he is as if to cage her from whatever is behind her, a protection of sorts that she despises the moment she sees the tight-lipped smile he gives her.

Whoever Kim Dongyoung is, whether a character or not, he always tries to shelter her. Guilt may be the reason why he does this, but she has never been made of glass. The journalism world is not easy; it’s all about competition, about stepping over someone and getting that one column in the magazine—Dongyoung, though sweet, could never protect her for long enough. Even then, when the ache of her mistake at the interview had subsided, there is still hate thrown her way, fingers pointing at her lying ways, as if she’s some gold-digger that is trying to cling to him. Nothing will ever be sunshine and rainbows, and this is what shatters her about him, what keeps her away from falling fundamentally into his arms, even when it’s not reciprocated.

Dongyoung will hide anything just to protect her.

Once she turns, the body of a woman she recognizes fully is the first thing she sees. Too far away for her to fully see the smile on this woman’s face, but it’s there, a wave sent her way that has Dongyoung scoffing beside her. His ex, that infamous ex that she had little to no information about, at least no more than what she knew as a journalist. His co-star three years ago in some movie that he was part of, the romance on the screen showcased into his real life and turning everything around for him. The scandal—with not enough details, as well—consisted on Dongyoung cheating on her, the cause of their break-up.

And she’s tired of Dongyoung, in a way, of this protective band that he keeps around him in case someone gets too close. There has been enough time for them to meet, for her to talk about past experiences with him over dinner, for them to share enough words that she doesn’t think there could ever be enough time to express just how close they had gotten. At least, on her part. Just now, it downs on her the reason as to why it’s so difficult to trust Dongyoung, why the world will always feel too artificial when around him—

He is just mending a scandal, but he never speaks about the reason why the scandal happened on the first place.

The actress is gorgeous; typical as typical can get. Long hair cascading in waves, beautiful eyes enticed by her elongated eyelashes, the redness of her lips could be caused by the drink on her hand, but not enough information about Jo Seoyeon will ever be enough for her to get interested on anything she does. What keeps clouding her brain in uncertainty right now is Dongyoung, now fully aware that she has looked at his ex.

“Did you really cheat on her?” Cutting the chase, the confidence that had once took over her when on interviews resurfaces simply to ask that question, but she’s not asking as an interviewer—she’s asking from the point of view of a person that likes Dongyoung, that has seen him at his best and worst in the past few months, and needs the answer of a part of the situation that had wrapped her up with him, on the first place.

Dongyoung’s eyes grow cold at that, the inside of his cheek bitten expertly when he places his bottle of beer down on the pristine and black counter by the bar. “No, of course not,” He complains, a tilt to his voice that comes with a raspy tone. All thanks to the drink, his first one of the night; he seems to have grown unused to the alcohol. “Do you really think I would—?”

“That’s the thing Dongyoung, one thing is what I think and the other one is what you plan to tell me.” She replies, biting down on her bottom lip to stop herself, but this is not enough to water the rampant fire inside of her. “Because—you’ve been telling the world, the paparazzi, the country, everyone that we are friends and sometimes, I really do think that we are friends—that is, until I realize that you keep things hidden from me.”

“You’re going to think I’m a pussy.” Dongyoung squints his eyes, looking at her after he babbles that nonsense her way. Truthfully, maybe he is ignorant to the advances he has in her heart, that almost absolutely nothing about him could make her think he’s a coward—only this, this hiding he does is cowardly enough for her to point it out.

“I’m not the kind to call you a pussy,” She quirks an eyebrow. “You know what you could be a pussy for? Not talking about this. Whatever happened needs to be sorted out, not with the world, but with yourself—”

“That I got cheated on? That’s what you want to know?” The strain on his voice could very well belong to one of his most dramatic scenes, but the edge of his tone is so much like Dongyoung that she knows she has hit a nerve. More than hit, stepped on it repeatedly, like hitting an elbow but instead of a hit it’s a whole fracture. His chest rises and falls, looking into her eyes as he speaks. “That her team did everything and anything to put me as the bad guy, gaining me a whole lot of backlash? I had two scandals all in less than a month, and I didn’t even defend myself for neither of them. I was scared. Is that what you want to hear?”

“If it’s the truth, it’s exactly what I want to hear from you.” She bites back, placing one hand over his back and surprisingly, he doesn’t pull away. “What really happened?”

“I—I was travelling for…for some movie.” Dongyoung indicates, hand lifting up to swat into the air as if the memory is worthless. “Got to her mansion to surprise her, saw her with a guy, made sure to tell her just how much of a scumbag she is, left. Next thing I knew, I was on all tabloids painted as a cheater, without proof, but people seem to believe her because she’s so nice, and so small, and so sweet.” His eyes roll at that, running his fingers through his hair and rubbing at his scalp. “I had to own it, what else could I do?”

To imagine Dongyoung in such a situation—happy, ready to enter the household of a loved one, and to have his hopes crushed by the sight of his girlfriend cheating on him makes her blood boil. Skin to skin, soul to soul, whichever way the cheating was, it had destroyed him romantically and…professionally. “You could have given your side of the story, Dongyoung. Just because you’re a guy…you shouldn’t be targeted as the cheater.”

“Ah, but I was. If I complained, I’d only be seen as a liar…” Dongyoung says, looking over to the side when the bottle of beer lifts up to his lips, taking a swig before sighing heavily. “I’m sorry I never told you. I thought you’d be pointing fingers at me because you’re a journalist, you’d probably believe the tabloids more. Dongyoung, can’t keep his dick in his pants, cheated on his girlfriend.”

Her fingers reach forward until her arm is wrapped around his shoulder, bringing him closer as if to, for once, shelter him as well. Being in the eye of the paparazzi while going through a break-up, betrayal mixing with anger, must have taken such a huge toll on him that it could have turned him into a bitter, rotten man. “I know you...all I need is some honesty for me to know whether you did or did not do something. If we’re friends, you need to open up to me.”

Dongyoung smiles at that, the edge of his bottle of beer resting in between his lips when they meet gazes. “I’m sorry if I was not entirely honest—”

“Ah, I wasn’t entirely honest either.”

“How so?” Dongyoung’s smile drops, her own appearing on her face when she nudges his side, his own hand coming to rest at her waist when she whispers.

“That I prefer Jungwoo’s movies over yours.” The comment is supposed to cut the ice that is now falling into droplets of water in between them, comfort settled into the once enemies as Dongyoung chuckles at her words.

“Hey, me too.” He answers, as always filling her with laughter absentmindedly. One look at him is enough to satiate this feeling inside her, craving for more of him but settling for what’s closer…to have him as a friend.

###

The harsh tug on her shoulder should be a clear indicator of who is touching her, too harsh and with hands too calloused, though that can only be felt through the slots of the gloves on this person’s hands. The kitchen is packed by four people now; Sujin, who is already placing a green smoothie on Dongyoung’s hands, the actor himself and this person, who speaks her name in a soft tone.

“Ouch, hello to you too, Youngha.” The mumble that lips her lips has Dongyoung laughing from the other side of the room. His chauffeur, a person that she has gotten to know quite too well, goes by the name of Youngha and while everything about her screams ruggedness, there is some kind of sweet nature deep in her soul. Though, her strength is something else, she should probably consider leaving Dongyoung stranded with the chauffeur project and simply dedicate her life to professional boxing.

“Is my boy over there bothering you too much?” The woman over her forties say, ruffling her hair when she looks ahead at the man already making a face to the smoothie wrapped by his long fingertips. Sujin is already talking to him about the lengths of his day, and she should really be paying more attention—but in her defense, she is paying attention to him. Dongyoung, cladded in a black shirt and sweatpants, his weight pushed forward slightly thanks to his leaning-back posture on the counter, arms more prominent, the muscles in them defining themselves softly. His hair is falling in bangs over his forehead today, dreamy beyond relief, one of his legs crossed over the other and elongating them even more.

She does deserve an award, for standing him and for not accidentally confessing to him. “He’s been treating me fine, but you know…he’s always bothering me either way. Too picky.” She answers, watching as Dongyoung takes big bites of the sandwich in between his fingertips. The recipe is aced by her hands by now.

“I know,” Youngha answers, pointing at her phone resting on the table. “It’s vibrating. I think you’re getting a call.”

Ever since she got the password to the shared business e-mail for Dongyoung, she has kept her phone silent. Too many emails, which she doesn’t really feel like answering most of the time, and she shouldn’t in the first place, either. However, the screen illuminates with a contact name that she’d never thought she’d see again when she lifts the device up to her face, jumping out of her seat when she voices out her concerns.

“It’s my ex-boss, oh my God!” Though, she picks up immediately, eager to know that Dongyoung’s plan may have worked for something, three months after its start. The button to put her on speaker is glided by her fingertip, watching as Dongyoung nears her with an astounded expression on his face, lips settled in an ‘o’ shape and eyebrows joined together when she speaks onto the phone. “Hello, Mr. Han. Why do I get the pleasure to receive your call?”

The joyous sound of a coo from her elderly ex-boss has her smiling, much more when she says: “Ah, my darling columnist, you don’t know how much I’ve missed you.” Enough now that Dongyoung has hired her as his personal assistant, that her name is more known and her face is more recognized. People know of her now, of course Mr. Han would miss her. “How have you been? I’ve seen you around Kim Dongyoung nowadays.”

“I’ve been good. Thank you for asking.” She answers. “How are the children?”

Dongyoung sighs audibly at the sound of the woman’s voice. “Lovely. They have been asking about you nonstop.”

“Is that so? I thought they didn’t even know about my existence.”

“They do now!” Mr. Han laughs joyfully, dramatically, just like any other woman that has lived her life through gossip. Not to be misunderstood, Mr. Han has been around the scene since the sixties, practically tuning the entire journalism scene into its own axis to make it her own. “By the way, honey, I won’t take any more time from you…do you think you could meet up with me one of these days? I was reading over your denied articles and I can’t believe I passed these gems by.”

This is what Dongyoung had promised at the beginning of their plan—his friends will always get great opportunities. The image of her white desk, her old laptop, the pencils and pens she kept on some holder nearby in her office is enticing enough for her to part her lips to speak, but one glance up has her seeing Dongyoung’s angry expression. His hands snatch her phone away from her hands, her eyebrows raising in anger when she tries to go over the counter to snatch the phone away from him.

“Hi, Mr. Han, it’s very nice to hear from you. It’s Kim Dongyoung here.” Before Mr. Han could say any more of her hypocritical greetings, Dongyoung continues speaking. “I’d love for you to keep talking with my friend, but after firing her on the spot without even considering how it would ruin her economically…I don’t think you even deserve a columnist like her with you. All you’re doing right now is bringing someone popular along with you, even though when she was only known as a journalist, not as my friend, you could not give two fucks about her.” The sincerity in him is to be expected, but her eyes widen frantically as she tries to get him to stop, hands colliding against his forearm to have him release her phone.

“Dongyoung, shut up—!”

“Ah, Kim Dongyoung, you have some attitude to you.” Mr. Han scolds him in that tutted tone of her, as if she’s trying to play the situation off lightly.

“She doesn’t need you or your magazine. I’d give her a magazine of her own if she asked me to. Just…don’t go around and pretend like now she’s such a worthy journalist for you, when you never cared for her.” Dongyoung answers, pressing his finger against the red button on her phone to end the call.

The air feels dense, one last smack landing on his chest when she realizes exactly what he had done. That one opportunity to get her job back, exactly what he intended to have happening on the first place, is suddenly thrown into the trash, leaving her in the turmoil of being Dongyoung’s personal assistant for…however long he wants. “Dongyoung, you don’t get to have choices in my life like that.” She says, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear

Dongyoung, now breathing rapidly, leans over the counter until they are face to face. “I meant it. When I said I’d get you your journalism job back, when I said I’d give you your own magazine if you wanted to…just give me time. I don’t need you taking any job, much less one that never appreciated you, just because you want to get away from me.”

“It’s not about getting away from you, you know this.” Her voice is soft, understanding the caring nature under his actions, before sighing deeply. “It’s about…I’m not a personal assistant, Dongyoung, I love journalism and I don’t want to have this job forever. I want you as a friend, I just don’t want to leave my passion behind, either.”

“And you won’t,” Dongyoung says, his eyes skimming over her features before sighing deeply. “I can promise you that much.”

Sujin points at his watch, the tapping of his fingernail against the glass sounding softly around the kitchen. “Dongyoung, we have things to do. Leave the drama for later.”

His eyes, filled with guilt, give her his utmost sincerity when he says: “Just give me a little bit more time.”

###  

Two days is all it takes to have Dongyoung texting her to meet him at the dressing room. This time around, however, the set is different—his historical movie is going to start its recordings soon, at least the ones that can be done in the city currently, and the dressing room is in some field instead of a set with a ceiling itself. The rush is still there, however, opening the doors of the moving dressing room in a hassle just to see over three women working on Dongyoung’s makeup, hair and that gorgeous outfit that makes him look as if he was taken out of the 1600’s.

The extensions on his black hair are a look that she isn’t sure if she likes, but the delicacy of his features when she moves towards him, getting a good glimpse of the makeup being patted to his face, is something she will never be able to forget. His hand comes forward even when his eyes are closed, patting around the surfaces until he gets to her knee, touching it softly.

“Dongyoung, did you just text me to touch my knee? You said it was an emergency.” She replies quickly, earning well-deserved laughter from Dongyoung as he opens his eyes. The gold eyeshadow could barely seen had it not been for the bright lights of the vanity illuminating them for her, or maybe she just noticed because her intent is always on Dongyoung.

“I wish it was for that,” Dongyoung replies, reaching for his phone and unlocking it in a quickened manner. “I had a few calls with magazines I had interviews with. I’ve been calling the entire morning, which is why I had you away from here looking for my favorite vintage Versace jacket. Which I am guessing you didn’t find.” The playful tone of his voice has her cursing out loud, because he said it was necessary and she had been looking everywhere for that Versace jacket that he said was in his closet, but his closet is far too big for her to find something specific. “Because it’s actually here.”

“You fucking asshole—” She mumbles, half of her body resting on top of her vanity before nodding at him. “What was that for?”

Dongyoung turns the screen of his phone towards her then, having her squint to read the fine black letter of an email. God, she hates those. “I’ve been calling magazines and I had Sujin send me your resume, so I’ve been looking for a good position for you in some magazine, as an interviewer as well as a columnist. You’d have your own spot in cinematography in the magazine, will give you an editor and whatnot…I found you a job.” Those last few words are only heightened in excitement when her surprise is even bigger, watching the name of the magazine at the end of the e-mail that takes her in. That’s the biggest magazine on the whole country, over sixty years of absolute delight in the journalism field—

Her hand comes up to her mouth, fingers shaking when she realizes just exactly what Dongyoung had done. He had kept his promise, but not only that—he had given her more than he had initially promised. The sadness on his features is there, a little pout in his smile when, for some reason, she doesn’t even care about the makeup artists around him and latches herself into his arms, his own wrapping around her waist when she clings onto his shoulders. Hugs shouldn’t feel this good, this tight, like she’s letting go of him to go to something bigger, something better…something that was entirely planned by Dongyoung.

“Oh my God, I love you! How could you do this?” She asks, tears already prickling at her eyes by the time Dongyoung chuckles. He doesn’t realize that the first few words may mean something else, his fingers caressing at the skin of her waist, now uncovered because of the hug and the raise of her t-shirt.

“I know you wouldn’t be happy being my personal assistant forever, so I had to let go of you.” Dongyoung answers, making her sigh when she lets go of him and takes him by the cheeks. One of the makeup artists whines at her action, making her pull away with her hands lifted up in the air.

“Sorry.” She says, taking his phone from his hand and reading the e-mail again. “Oh shit, I’m really—”

“Yes, you’re going. You start in three days. They’re preparing your office.”

“My own personal office?”

“Your own personal office.” Dongyoung complies, patting his makeup artists’ hands away to push them away. “Come give me another hug, I’m going to miss you so much.” His voice is serious, his hands spreading just in time for her to go to his arms again and hug him as she will never see him again, which may not be the case at all, at least not from her part. His arms take her in securely, making her feel safe when he rests his chin against her shoulder, chuckling softly at her quivering form. “Don’t cry.”

But how can she not cry when the realization of being in love with Dongyoung downs on her with whiplash, leaving her dizzied and romanticizing him? “…I will miss you so much, too.”

###

“You did not.”

Eating with her group of friends once again, though from different magazines at this point, is more than she could have ever asked for. Months ago, she had that same meal of noodles practically bathed in soy sauce, wondering if she’d be able to pay for something like this again—and with the payment Dongyoung gave her as his personal assistant, along with her new salary as a journalist and interviewer in the country’s most prestigious magazine, she is more than thankful to have a meal with Jason and Hyoyeon once again. Spending a lot of time in the celebrity world seemed to have pulled her away from this.

Jason’s hair is now longer, not bleached anymore but in its natural black color, tied behind his head to show an undercut, probably something that Hyoyeon recommended for him to try. Hyoyeon, equally as gorgeous, not wears an engagement ring on the hand that holds Jason’s under the table, looking at her with nothing less than distaste after telling her the entire details of what Dongyoung had done, not forgetting the adventures that had gone through since the beginning of their job together as…coworkers?

Celebrity and personal assistant?

Friends?

Hyoyeon pats her fiancé’s thigh, absolutely mortified by what she said, her thin eyebrows drawn together in a frown. “You mean to tell me that a guy treats you like this and you still consider that he’s not into you?” She asks. Oh, of course, she must have slipped somewhere into the story how endlessly in love she is with Dongyoung, and how okay she is with the unrequited love as long as she continues to have him in her life. Warmth is necessary, and instead of going back to the snow, she’d rather have the sun and never reach it.

“Oh, he’s so into her.” Jason says, playing around with his chopsticks as if a set of drums is on the table. “You should’ve seen his face when he was approaching us for the interview. He couldn’t get his eyes off her.”

Reminiscent of that confession at the elevator, she twists on her seat and muffles her sigh with a bit of her food, munching on it as she speaks. No longer does she have to worry about people taking pictures of her without her consent, thankfully. “That’s because someone,” A pointed glare thrown towards Hyoyeon. “Gave me a dress that had half of my boobs slipping out.”

“Ah, you looked hot, come on. Even you know this.” Hyoyeon complains, taking one of the noodles on her plate and tossing it at her, landing on her hair before she swats it off. “Stop being childish and recognize that he is so into you.”

Though the image of waking up to Dongyoung in his king-sized bed, only to see his sculptured face and gummy grin early in the morning, is more than she could ever wish for and a desire that she has deep in her soul, it’s too…impossible. “He’s not. He probably likes actresses like his ex—”

“He likes you.” Jason says. “He gave you the best job ever, he has told you things he hasn’t told anyone, not to mention that all those pictures released of the two of you have him looking at you as if you’re the universe itself.”

Whoever has seen Dongyoung from up close knows that, if anything, she was the one that looked at him as if he held the entirety of the universe, never-ending, scary on its way but enticing in another, in his eyes. She plays around with her food, shaking her head at his words with a smile on her face. “He just sees me as a friend, that’s it. He’s a celebrity and—”

“You’ll never know until you ask him!” Hyoyeon points out, shaking the table when she lands a palm on it. “Listen, with you he wasn’t a celebrity, or the country’s most loved actor…he was himself with you.” Still, this gets no reaction our of her, the conversation has been going around it for long enough for her to convince herself that she is never going to tell him, too afraid of rejection. “…You cried when you left your job as his assistant.”

A gasp masks this. “I cried because he got me a job.”

Hyoyeon, always smart, shakes her head. “No, you cried because you were afraid that after leaving that job you weren’t going to see him again. And you fear this because you love him. Why don’t you want to just accept you love him and just tell him?”

The room falls silent, though it doesn’t, it just feels like it may have. The restaurant is still packed, with families feeding their youngest ones, couples spending time together, friends joining in laughter…and she’s there, feeling alone even when she’s accompanied, so thankful but still longing to see Dongyoung after weeks of working at a magazine. Texts are not enough, neither are videocalls, and meeting up with him has been almost impossible when he’s in France for the release of his latest movie, one that he recorded last year. “Ah, it doesn’t matter,” She tries to play off, swatting her hand as if it is nothing. “He’s in Paris, either way. He’s going to be having his movie released and he’s going to attend some red carpet, possibly a party after, and now that I’m not there…he may find someone.”

Jason widens his eyes at that, snapping his fingers at the idea that crosses his head. “Tell your magazine to have you interview him and his cast on the red carpet. It would gain lots of traction, which is good for the magazine, for your past scandal and he would get to see you.”

The idea of seeing Dongyoung again, on the red carpet, to make up for that one time in which she ruined it all, and to see him again, brings a flutter up her spine when she stops chewing on her food to say. “Should I?”

Now more excited than ever, Hyoyeon stands up from her spot, the chair dragging in the process when she claps her hands together. “Yes, yes, call your magazine! I already have the dress that you’re going to use in mind and oh my God, how many days do we have to prepare for this?”

“Four…if my magazine says yes…” Taken away by the narrative her friends propose, she follows after Hyoyeon’s steps, leaving Jason behind to pay. She’ll pay the half after. “Should I even do this?” Though her phone is already up her ear, and she may be even more eager than them to just see Dongyoung.

“Oh, not only you should,” Hyoyeon confidently says. “You will.”

###

With a new cameraman rushing behind her, not sufficiently comfortable with him yet to scream at him to hurry up like she would with Jason, the sole of her heels digs into her skin the more she runs into the red carpet, searching for that perfect spot that could capture the cast’s—and Dongyoung’s attention—. Nonetheless, the jetlag and the hours of last-minute studying had made her wake up late and without the help of either Jason or Hyoyeon to help her with that damned dress, she had gotten out of the hotel a little bit later than expected.

Exactly by the left corner of the red carpet, near where the limousines and cars would park when delivering the celebrities one by one, is where she ends up standing and only then does she realize just how heavy this necklace is on her neck, patting it with her fingers to make sure it stays there. Hyoyeon had made it sufficiently clear for her to know that this necklace is worth, at least, seven of her salaries and she should protect it with all her might. The leverage is well-welcomed, much more with the spurts of nervousness growing like flowers all over her body, but not enough to have her covering herself like the first time.

When Hyoyeon said she had the perfect dress, she meant it. Red, this time it’s the color of passion, like the one Dongyoung had both taken from her but given it back from her with her journalism job, the sleeves long even when they are trailing down her shoulders. The length is elegant, but it snatches her waist a little too harshly, leaving her with shortened breaths that capture themselves on her chest. Or…is that because she is genuinely nervous of seeing Dongyoung, not after years but after weeks of not meeting up with him, and to see the surprise on his features?

The most she hopes is for him to be happy, at least relieved to see her, for having her magazine send her there last minute had taken a toll on her. Playing on her hands is her career, one that could be absolutely destroyed if the expression on Dongyoung’s face is of distaste. That thought crosses her head over and over again, making her move backwards and forward with those heels, the straps digging on her skin like restraints, but not powerful enough to keep her in place.

When the cameras start flashing immediately, cheers being heard in the forms of screeches and shouts of his name, her heart picks up its pace so rapidly that she almost swore she had a mini heart attack then. Her hands, clammy like the first time, hold onto the microphone with tight fingertips as he nears the red carpet. His poses are simple, one hand resting on the pocket of his gray suit, the color of his tie in a color of orange—an odd combination, but it looks good, something that she would have never thought of him using, too much of a lover of black and white.

His hair is sleeked back, just how she likes it, and just when he nears the masses of interviewers, she steps forward. Calling his name comes easily, professionally, at least this interview is not live and that may be the reason why she is so confident. Dongyoung’s ears, as if perked up by her voice, check around the groups of journalists until he finds her. His eyes meet with hers, breathing heavily for a second longer than she imagined, a smile caressing his features when he rushes towards her, his arm extending to wrap around her shoulders, his other hand waving at the masses of people going crazy for him.

But even from up close, and not screaming, there is someone going crazy for him…not the man in the suit, but the man inside that soul. The man that had given everything to her in the form of friendship.

“Kim Dongyoung, it’s so nice to see you again. You look amazing this evening.” She comments into her microphone, earning a smile worth a million diamond rings from Dongyoung, who takes the microphone from her hands and speaks into it with glee.

“I’m so happy to see you here, you don’t know.” He pulls away for a moment, his eyes inspecting her body before chuckling at her. “Red, that’s a nice look on you.”

“Thank you. So, Dongyoung, your latest movie includes—”

The redemption tastes sweeter than she imagined, but the departure of the man after such a successful and full interview is what hurts the most. Dongyoung’s broad shoulders is the last thing she sees when he goes onto another interviewer, far enough until he is inside the place in which his movie is going to be broadcasted in. He’s a celebrity, and she’s just an interviewer…but there is a lingering memory there, not of being his personal assistant or his friend…but something else…

As if his eyes hold something that she doesn’t quite know how to express. Gratitude? Adoration? Respect?

From the expanse of the couch on her hotel room, bigger than the one she was in before the disastrous red carpet with Dongyoung when they first met, she gets to see the recap of her interview. Everything looks fine, but from up close and paying attention to it, putting that observational eye that journalists have into it…she does see glimpses of what Jason and Hyoyeon had been talking about. Dongyoung’s eyes never leave hers, nodding intently to her words, smiling so brightly that the flashes of the camera could never hurt him…because he’ll always shine brighter. His arm never left her shoulder until the interview was over and even then, Dongyoung’s eyes lingered on her a little bit longer.

But it couldn’t be. It couldn’t be that Dongyoung had some kind of interest in her, and it couldn’t be that when she hears a knock on her hotel door, standing up with a groan and opening it with a harsh pull, she sees him, out of all people, standing in front of a cheap hotel’s room with his hands interlocked in front of his body. Dongyoung nods as a greeting, leaving her more dumbfounded when his suit is long gone, just like her dress is, now changed for casual clothing and—

“Shouldn’t you be in some party?”

“I skipped it, but I also locked myself out of my hotel room accidentally. Had to call Sujin, he told me he had been texting you and also, I asked him for your hotel’s address so I could visit you.” Dongyoung explains in a monotone voice, moving his hands the more he delves into the story. Laughter is caught in her lips, shaking her head at his antics before opening the door wider.

“I’ll let you in.” She says, looking up and down his body when he enters. That typical black-on-black outfit choice of his will be the death of her. “What did you bring with you?”

Dongyoung’s fingers hook around the CD on his fingers, swaying it in front of her with glee. “It’s my favorite early 2000’s movie. I was hoping we could watch it.” He says, splaying himself on the couch with extended arms before waving his fingers at her, as if calling out for her to take the seat beside him. “You didn’t expect me to see you in that dress, and red, out of all colors…and not want to see you, right?” The question is muffled when she lays down by his side, taking his hand that is on the headrest and putting it over her shoulder before sighing.

“Only the dress?” She prompts, lifting an eyebrow at Dongyoung, who clearly matches the atmosphere of Paris. The jetlag, the hard work, the running…everything is worth it when she gets to see that gummy smile again.

“…And you. I missed you like crazy.”

“I missed you, too.”

The movie, though interesting enough to have her paying attention to the storyline, is not the main thing on her mind. The feeling of his body by her side is what keeps her tranced, watching the movie with him and a little bit over the one-hour mark when she starts to feel the aftereffects of being so close. Dongyoung is a pillar, a guard in a way, the one person that had taken her confidence with him and brought it back full force, mainly because he didn’t mean to snatch it away on the first place. Months ago, she would not have hesitated to put him in his place, but now she finds herself hesitating to get closer…to admit to him that she wants nothing more than to have him for herself and herself only.

Because she’s egotistic, but she’s naïve enough to not act upon it. It’s only when his hand trails down to her waist, grasping on the fabric of her t-shirt like he always does, that her gaze finally pulls away from the movie to look at him. The horrid lights of the hotel room don’t take away his beauty, looking at her with curiousness in his eyes the more he inspects her features, head tilted back just slightly before he nears her. The couch ruffles under his weight, sounds softly when he is looming over her just slightly.

The way he looks at her, brown eyes settling on her lips, is enough to take her breath away. Much more when those lips—one that she had never even paid attention to when they met—near hers until he is speaking so closely that a gush of his breath is oxygen for her lungs. “You know…I’m not good with words.” Dongyoung whispers, his other hand parting on her thigh until his fingers grab on it softly. “…Which is why I always compliment the dresses, and never the person that wears them.”

She chuckles, airily, albeit a bit scared of the situation…of him, swallowing her whole with the feelings she has for him. “What does that mean?”

Dongyoung looks down, rubbing his lips softly against hers, the shadow of a kiss falling on top of her skin, enough to have her puckering her own as if to reach him, but the contact is cut too soon. That does not mean he pulls away, however, because he doesn’t. “That all this time, from the beginning, I’ve been not going crazy for the dresses…but for you.”

This moment, she wants to treasure forever. This moment is the consequence of something that was once unintended, but has now all her intention when she says. “…You say that as if you didn’t know already that I was in love with you.”

Dongyoung’s lips trail from the corner of her lips, leaving soft and dreamy kisses on her cheeks, her jaw, down to kiss a small flower of growth on her neck before going up to her lips again. He laughs, actually, though too soft for it to be funny. “I didn’t know until you said so.”

“Everyone is in love with you…” She answers, craving for him to finally kiss her, but also fearing the conclusion of it. “How are you going to even add me into your life? Your fans are going to hate me again if I dare touch you as something more than your friend.”

“…Do you really think I care about that?”

“You may.”

“I don’t,” Dongyoung answers, pressing another fleeting kiss to her lips before sighing against them. “I care about you because I’m, also, in love with you and if I keep talking, I’m going to ruin the mood, so let me kiss you before I go insane—”

Just like how she had always dreamed of since the time her feelings for Dongyoung blossomed into something else—though, she may never know when that happened in all those months of being together daily—, her hands connect to his back when his lips finally lay down on hers. His mouth parts softly, jaw tightening the slightest when he takes his precious time into kissing her profoundly, like he wants to thread her soul with his and leave it there forever. In a way, she doesn’t think she’ll ever be able to forget the feeling of his chest to hers, his hand caressing her thigh, his grounding palm on her waist, tongue running over her bottom lip slowly before he takes the lead again. By the time her breathing is ragged, kissing him with more fervor just to keep him there—with her, in that moment in which he is not a huge celebrity but hers instead, she finally hears the echo of his words inside her head.

I’m, also, in love with you.

That means…Dongyoung loves her. It’s difficult to think about—an interviewer, who almost lost her entire career to him, loves him back.

His teeth are grazing against her bottom lip when she speaks in between a chuckle, grabbing his cheeks with her extended palms. “I hope this means you’re my boyfriend now, because if it isn’t…I’m going to kick you out.”

Dongyoung smiles, that cheery grin that she will never get enough of, when he presses a smooch to her lips before saying: “That was my intention all along.”

#doyoung scenarios #doyoung #nct scenarios #nct #kpop scenarios #writing #doyoung angst #doyoung fluff #doyoung au #nct fluff #nct angst #nct au #actor!doyoung #interviewer!au #meet messy!au #mannnn i'd love to hear opinions about this one!

[woohoonooboo]

@softeberrie​‘s sugar baby bachelorette challenge

name: priscilla mae cunningham age: 46 (adult) traits: materialistic - evil - dance machine gender and pronouns: pansexual cis woman (she/her) household funds: 500,000ish (i might’ve left in more by mistake but shh) occupation: supreme villain (lvl 10 of the secret agent career, villain branch) interests/hobbies: dancing, clubbing, partying, shopping, villainy, mischief, mixology, fitness (particularly hiking, biking, and rock climbing), sex what your sim is looking for in a sugar baby: a good fuck to spoil with lavish gifts, shopping sprees, and extravagant vacations; someone to keep her company in her obscenely large mansion in the country (or wherever life takes them); a companion to gossip with background story: from her to birth into her father’s doughnut empire to her years spent in the limelight as america’s sweetheart in her hit sitcom big house on the little corner, priscilla mae has been accustomed to a certain way of life--one that she’s willing to share.

full backstory under the cut because i accidentally wrote a fucking novel

ps jeejee i have her on sfs ready to go if you want her < 3

born into the world of beauty pageants and a misogynistic upper class society, priscilla mae’s mother had always been held to certain standards and expected the same in return from her daughter. a proud southern belle who had been tragically left a widow after a vending machine suddenly ended her poor husband’s young life shortly after the birth of their only child, she taught priscilla mae from a young age that to get anywhere in life you only needed two things: beauty and money. it was a lesson that priscilla mae carried with her throughout all her life as she competed in endless pageants; starred in her own television show; and settled down with san myshuno’s most legible bachelor, beau cunningham, upon turning eighteen and discovering her mother had squandered away the family fortune and whatever money priscilla mae had earned throughout her childhood.

beau was a fabulously wealthy, albeit much older, business man who was away more often than not but still found the time to have his secretary pick out expensive gifts to send to the new mrs. cunningham to keep up the appearance of being a loving husband. this was more than fine by priscilla mae, for the two had settled on an agreement: priscilla mae would gain unlimited access to beau’s bank accounts and in return he would gain unlimited access to her holes, as beau had so delicately phrased it. on occasion he’d stop by for a quick booty call before he had to catch his next flight. this resulted in the birth of their three children—jud, jackson, and june belle—and beau’s eventual vasectomy. priscilla mae was ecstatic to be a mother and spent most of her days tending to her children. during schools day, priscilla mae spent her time in designer stores, spas, and exclusive country clubs; on the weekends she found herself throwing parties for all her friends and family, attending charity events (sometimes with, but more often than not in place of her husband) which kept her in the spotlight despite retiring from acting, and club hopping after the children had been put to sleep; and each holiday she took the children to some far away five star resort to celebrate and shower them in more toys than they could possibly ever play with as a vain consolation for beau’s constant absence.

although gained under unfortunate circumstances, priscilla mae quite enjoyed her new life for many years. however, when her children inevitably grew into young adults and had all left home, she found herself with more free time than she knew what to do with. suddenly she grew tired of the same routine she had stuck with for more years than she could remember. priscilla mae decided it was time for a change and took her new free time to achieve a dream she had since she was just a little girl: becoming a super villain. she enrolled at foxbury, wanting only the finest education available. after graduating at the top of her class with a distinguished degree after only a few years, priscilla mae left san myshuno far behind and moved back to the countryside where she had spent her childhood. although she claimed it was because she had grown tired of the city’s incessant hustle and bustle and longed for peace, those close to her knew the truth: there’s nowhere to hide an underground secret lair in an apartment.

with her newfound “hobby” to break up the monotony of her old life, priscilla mae eagerly embarked on an exciting journey: causing complete and utter chaos for sims all over the globe. for a short while she was happy, content with wreaking havoc on innocent civilians during the day and partying at night, until one day the freedom priscilla mae had cherished for so long came to an abrupt end.

beau, now an even older man than before, suffered a heart attack while away in sulani on business. after spending some time in the hospital, he was flown out to the mansion where he could further rest. it was at this time priscilla mae really got to know the man she married so many years ago, and it was at this time that she grew to hate him as well.

every little thing that beau did grated on her nerves. she despised the way he talked, the sounds he made when he was chewing, how he expected her to light his cigars when he knew the smell makes her sick, his obnoxious friends he invited over at odd hours... but what she resented most of all was the way he expected her to dote on him hand and foot, to drop everything to tend to his every need without so much as a “please” or “thank you” in return. the nerve of it all, tearing her down right after she had just found a new meaning in life. priscilla mae wasn’t going to stand by idly as her dream got ripped to shreds before her very eyes.

no, she was going to have a plan. she was going to finish him in more ways than one.

a mere two weeks after beau’s release from the hospital, priscilla mae decided she was going to surprise him after an exhausting day with a little gift. upon following her to her lair, beau discovered priscilla mae had another secret room put into the mansion: a sex room. immediately after opening the door he was greeted by something he had only seen in adult films: in the very middle of the room was a brand new sex swing just waiting to be broken in. overcome with lust, he got onto it eagerly at priscilla mae’s request and then it began...

and then it completely ended.

poor priscilla mae... how was she supposed to know that her darling husband’s heart would give out during his orgasm?

after playing the part of the grieving wife for a few months to not cause suspicion, priscilla mae went back to her old life that she had missed so dearly. for a year or so she was content again until she started to find the silence in the mansion deafening. the only relief from it’s during the holidays when her children and grandchildren come to visit, but almost as quickly as it starts it ends and priscilla mae finds herself once again alone in large, quiet rooms. now she looks for a way to fill the silence in the form of a sugar baby--what better way is there for her to pay it forward?

#sorry it's so long dcjsgcfdsg #also good luck she's gonna be a handful i just have a feeling #my ocs: priscilla mae cunningham #my entries #ts4 #sugarbabybachelorette #ask to tag #age gap cw #murder cw #violence cw #death cw