#who wrote this article pls

[juleboo]

Literally crying

Who decided this was ok??? Rise from the splashes????? I’m never playing this game ever again.

[p4nishers]

idk how many times i can say this but: it CANNOT BE QUEERBAIT IF THE CHARACTERS ARE QUEER!!! please stop this "i saw the leak and im worried it still might be queerbait" ????? HOW ??? they're both NON BINARY!! HOW can it be queerbait if they're, in canon, genderless beings?? SHUT TF UP EVERYONE PLEASE

[onceuponaoneshotfanfic]

You Already Know, Babe

Request: Heyy would I be able to pretty please ask for a Roy one-shot based of So High School? Mainly the lyric: "Truth, Dare, Spin Bottles. You know how to ball, I know Aristotle" (bc I have TTPD brainrot) Like I'd love to picture Roy with a total academic girl who loves classic literature and ancient greece and philosophy pls ???

Roy Kent x Reader

3.3k words

Warnings: Language, Roy being insecure, the guys making Roy feel bad (not on purpose)

A/N: Ahhh I also have TTPD brainrot so I loooooove this! I made the reader a uni professor. Also been wanting to do a Bantr fic for Roy for a while, so I incorporated that in too!

Roy scowled and sipped his beer. “Fuck no.”

Leaning forward in the booth they sat in, Keeley gave him her best puppy-dog eyes, the ones that stopped working the moment he got over her. “Come on, Roy. I wouldn’t suggest it if I didn’t think it’d be good for you.”

“What’s the worst that can happen?” Jamie chimed in.

“‘Fuck no’ used to be a complete sentence,” Roy growled.

Before he could stop the striker, Jamie grabbed Roy’s mobile off the table, holding it just out of the gaffer’s reach. “Just… one… moment…” he huffed as Keeley did her best to hold Roy back. “Alright, we need a username.”

Roy rolled his eyes but stopped fighting against Keeley’s grip. “How about ‘This is fucking stupid’?”

“I think that’s against their policy,” Jamie hummed, eyes still on the phone.

Keeley thought for a moment. “RoyallySarcastic? Y’know, ROYally?”

Jamie’s eyes lit up. “Oh, I got it!” He typed away before proudly showing the screen to Roy and Keeley. “RoyalPain,” he announced.

With a giggle, Keeley took the phone from Jamie and handed to Roy, who looked ready to kill his friends. “There we are Roy-o,” she said. “Welcome to Bantr.”

~

~

Roy sat at the small table, fidgeting with the shiny fork on the table and staring intently at the condensation on the glass of water in front of him. Why the fuck was he so nervous? He was Roy fucking Kent, he reminded himself sternly. He’d been on plenty of dates. Sure, this was his first Bantr date, but that shouldn’t really matter. He’d been on a couple of blind dates in the past; this shouldn’t be much different.

But it sure felt different when you walked in, all wide eyes and nervous smiles. You approached him hesitantly, cocking your head as you got closer. Your gaze flickered to the tattered copy of A Wrinkle in Time on the table next to him before settling on his face.

“RoyalPain?” you squeaked out, raising your eyebrows expectantly.

Before he could stop himself, he grinned and blurted out, “I Kant believe it’s you.” Immediately, he groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Nope, fuck, that was stupid. I’m sor-”

Your laughter eased his embarrassment as you sat across from him. “Don’t you dare apologize,” you countered. “That was cute.” You offered your name with a small smile.

“Roy,” he said simply, searching your face for any sign that you recognized him.

Instead, you nodded and leaned forward. “And what do you do, Roy?”

What did he do? He tried to remember the last time someone asked him that. “I work for a football team,” he said slowly. “A.F.C. Richmond.”

You nodded, interest all over your pretty face. “And what do you do at Richmond?”

He blinked a few times and cleared his throat. “Do you… you don’t know who I am?” Fuck, he felt like an absolute asshole saying the words out loud.

“Sure I do,” you chuckled. “I just figured that Roy Kent doesn’t often get the chance to introduce himself. Thought I’d give you the opportunity.”

Roy couldn’t help but smile. Yeah, it was kind of dorky, but fuck, he liked it. Just like he liked hearing about your job as a uni professor, or the article you recently wrote about Arthurian legend, or the book you’d read recently. And he really liked the way you looked at him like he was the most fascinating thing in the world, more interesting than the well-renowned experts and authors you got to spend time with, asking him about his work and his life and his opinions. He smiled all through dinner, laughing at jokes even when they went over his head and making a mental list of books he now wanted to read.

He was still grinning as he walked you to your car after dinner, wondering when he’d last enjoyed himself so much on a date. As you fished your keys out of your purse, he found himself desperately hoping for another date with you. And another. And another.

“Could we do this again sometime?” he asked gently once your keys were in your hand.

Fuck, he loved the way your eyes lit up at his question. “Absolutely,” you breathed.

With a dizzy little nod, Roy cupped your face and tugged you close, ghosting his lips over yours. You gently laid your hands on his hips to press against him, deepening the kiss. You swore you could feel him smiling against your mouth as his thumb stroked your cheek. Some little part of you wanted to pull this man into your car, into your apartment, into your bed. But from the happy little hum that vibrated from his chest to yours, you knew you had plenty of dates ahead of you, plenty of time for all that, plenty of Roy Kent ahead of you.

~

After three weeks of dates and laughter and late-night phone calls and kisses that escalated to other things, Roy invited you to a match. He seemed weirdly nervous for a retired football legend whose dating history could fill any of the giant books that filled the shelves in your office, but you found his nerves nothing short of charming. So, you threw on some comfy jeans and a sweatshirt and climbed into Roy’s giant black car to go with him to Nelson Road, where he showed you his office before giving you your ticket and sending you off to your seat with a chaste kiss.

Roy was fighting the stupidest smile as he prepared for the match, the same stupid smile he’d been fighting since your first date. He was excited for you to see him and the Greyhounds in action, to be able to show off for you a little and, he didn’t fucking know, make you proud or some shit.

“Was that your girlfriend, Roy?” Sam raised his eyebrows as he and Jan stood in the doorway.

He cleared his throat. “No,” he said slowly. “But we’ve been dating for a few weeks.” He paused for a moment, hoping he didn’t look too dopey as he spoke. “She’s a professor. Fucking brilliant. Like, she teaches, and she’s been published and speaks at conferences.”

Jan spoke up. “Most men would not be able to handle dating a woman so much more educated than they are. Good for you, Coach. It’s nice that you are not intimidated by her clearly superior intellect.”

A knot appeared in Roy’s stomach, but he simply cleared his throat and gave a curt nod. “Yeah, well.” He blinked, not sure what the fuck he was supposed to say to that. “Best finish getting ready, hmm?”

Jan’s words continued to flutter around Roy’s mind like an annoying butterfly as he made his way out to the pitch. He liked that you were smart. Hell, he liked that you were smarter than him. He could listen to you talk for hours about literature and history and philosophy, especially when your eyes lit up and your voice got faster, the way he noticed it did when you were especially passionate about something. It was impressive, not to mention sexy as all hell. But there had definitely been moments over the last few weeks where he had to Google what you were talking about while you weren’t looking, or where he laughed at a joke he didn’t really understand. It came with the territory, he told himself. It was to be expected, dating someone like you.

And there you were, sitting in the seat Roy had selected for you, the one that gave you the perfect view of the dugout- per your request. You waved excitedly when you caught Roy’s eye, wearing that giant smile that made his heart skip a beat. He offered back a small wave, knowing full well that all the guys could see his furious blush.

“That your girl?” Colin asked, following Roy’s dreamy gaze.

Roy shrugged, turning his attention back to his team. “Uh, I guess?” he mumbled, taking the clipboard Nate handed him.

Sam spoke up. “Roy said she’s a uni professor.”

Respect covered the faces of the men that were clearly more interested in Roy’s love life than their impending match. They all started chattering over each other, ignoring Roy’s eyerolls and Beard and Nate’s amused expressions.

Richard waggled his eyebrows. “Does she offer special office hours for you, Coach?”

Roy wrinkled his nose at the Frenchman. “What the fuck is that supposed to-”

“Did you have to buy a new dictionary to keep up with her?” Zoreaux teased.

Isaac spoke up, clapping a hand on Roy’s shoulder. “Most guys would probably run for the hills if they had to keep up with a woman’s brainpower,” he started. “But Roy’s not intimidated. I mean, sure, we all know he’s no Einstein, but he’s got other great qualities. Like…”

Roy raised a cool eyebrow at the captain, more curious than offended at this point.

“Coaching,” Colin finally finished for Isaac. “He’s a great manager.”

Jamie pipped up now. “And she seems to really like looking at you, Grandad.” He nodded to the stands where, sure enough, you were still gazing at Roy, affection all over your face. “She’s cute,” he mused.

Roy cleared his throat, trying to focus attention to the match at hand and not your pretty smiles. Or the words of his players that had etched a deep frown onto his bearded face. “Alright, Greyhounds!” he hollered. “Let’s fucking focus, lads! We’ve got a fucking match to win!”

~

And they did win, much to Roy’s pleasure. Winning always felt good, but he had to admit that winning in front of a pretty girl felt fucking great. And it was even better when he found you waiting in his office, gazing at him as if you had hearts in your eyes.

“That was brilliant!” you gushed, wrapping your arms around his middle while his rested on your shoulders and tugged you close. You pressed a tiny kiss to his lips. “Thank you so much for inviting me, Roy.”

He smiled down at you and pecked your nose. “Think you’ll come again sometime?” he teased.

Your eager nodding melted his heart. “Absolutely,” you promised. “Maybe next time I’ll even wear a kit. Since I think I’m officially a Richmond fan now.”

“That kit better have a six on it,” Roy growled, smacking another kiss to your cheek. He gave you a small squeeze before releasing you. He reached down to grab your hand. “I’ve got to go talk to the press for a bit, he explained, leading you over to his desk. “D’you mind waiting here? We can grab dinner once I’m done,” he promised. “Here, you can even watch the presser on my computer.”

“Sounds perfect.” You touched his cheek and pulled him close for one more kiss. “Now get going, I want to see you be brilliant in front of all those reporters.”

Roy was still blushing when he got in front of the cameras. The press conference was a blur of questions and comments. He’d probably have to apologize to Keeley later, because he was sure he was dreamy and distracted the entire time. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt so lovesick over a woman, and he especially couldn’t remember the last time he enjoyed it so much.

When he returned to his office, he was surprised to see Jamie sitting on the edge of his desk, chatting pleasantly with you. You both lit up at the sight of him, with Jamie choosing to speak first as Roy offered a small grin to you.

“Your girl was just telling me about this seminar she’s speaking at next weekend,” he announced. “Some talk on the Lord of the Rings books and their impact on modern cinema.” He nodded to you. “It actually sounds really cool.” He slid off the desk with ease, offering you a wink. “Not sure what someone as smart as you is doing with Grandad here,” he joked.

He was kidding around. Roy knew that. Jamie loved to tease everyone, especially him. He was well-aware of the way Jamie admired him, as his childhood hero, as his coach, and, fuck it, fine, as his friend. Maybe it was all the joking from earlier, but Roy felt his face fall at Jamie’s teasing. He couldn’t help it; it was one thing for the guys to joke to his face, another to make a comment in front of you. He wouldn’t admit it even to himself, but some part of him was terrified you’d realize how brilliant you were, and how dull he was, and call the whole thing off.

Roy was so busy stewing in his childish embarrassment, he missed the way your eyebrows scrunched at Jamie, your mouth in a straight line. When you spoke, your voice was flat, maybe even a little angry, as you responded to the striker.

“I think,” you said slowly, “I’m going to dinner with him.” With that, you took Roy’s hand, hoping the adoration in your eyes would be enough to wipe that frown off his handsome features. “Ready, Roy?”

Roy nodded, but barely said a word as the two of you walked through the Dog Track, got into his car, and drove to the restaurant he’d been excitedly telling you about the day before. However, that excitement was nowhere to be seen as the two of you settled in and ordered some dinner. You cocked your head at him, wondering how someone who’d just coached such a great game could look so sullen- especially while on a date with someone he was supposed to really like.

“That match was incredible,” you offered, leaning forward with a smile. “Seriously, Roy. How do you do that? Being able to see the game unfold and know what plays to call, what players to have on the pitch. And all the preparation you have to do in advance. It’s like a really intense game of chess, with all those moving pieces, not knowing what the other side is going to do next.” You reached out and laid your hand on top of his. “Your team is so lucky to have you.”

His gaze avoided yours as he cleared his throat. “Dunno how much of it is me,” he chuckled hollowly. “I inherited a great team and have a really talented coaching staff.” He shrugged. “Sometimes I feel like I just… stand there and take up space.”

Now it was your turn to frown. This wasn’t the Roy Kent you met, the Roy Kent that teased you and smirked and made cocky comments just to make you laugh. Something had happened, something between the beginning of the match and the end, to make him so morose. Maybe something had happened in the match that you’d missed; you weren’t much of a sports fan before meeting Roy, you really only knew the basics, so it was possible what you thought was an incredible match was really something of a failure for him.

Maybe distracting him would help.

“I was telling Jamie Tartt about the conference I’m speaking at,” you tried again. “It’s this fantasy and pop culture thing. Kind of dorky,” you admitted. “But I’m really excited about my talk on Tolkien and his influence on modern cinema. My colleague was saying he really liked this one parallel I drew between Frodo and- well, I don’t want to spoil it.” You squeezed his hand. “You should come. I’ve seen you at work, now I want to show you what I do.” You shrugged. “Could even bring Jamie if you want.”

Roy nodded absently, not quite looking you in the eye. “Yeah, just make sure to get me a translator so I can understand what you’re saying.” His voice sounded like he was attempting to make a joke, but it fell flat. “Academics to neanderthal or some shit.”

That was enough of that, you decided. With a sigh, you leaned back, cocking your head at the gaffer and shooting him your sternest glare, the one you saved for students who didn’t know how to act like adults in your classroom. “Alright, Roy. What’s going on? You’re acting like you don’t want to be here, and, frankly, I don’t want to hang out with someone who doesn’t value my time.”

“I…” Roy let out a low growl and pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’re smart,” he finally blurted out. “Like, really, really fucking smart. You teach, and you’re published, and you speak in front of academic types who hang onto every word you say.” He released his nose and shook his head at you, embarrassment swimming in those brown eyes. “And I… played football. I coach football. That’s fucking it. I can’t stand the idea of you being embarrassed by the fact that I can’t keep up with you. That you’re going to turn around and realize I’m not smart enough for you.”

Your stomach twisted in knots as you took in the sight of him, looking devastated, like he was waiting for you to tell him he was right, he was a neanderthal, and that you didn’t think he was smart enough for you. If it wasn’t so sad, the picture of Roy looking so forlorn would be almost endearing.

“That,” you finally murmured, “might be the stupidest thing you’ve said since we met, Roy.” He nodded, a grimace covering his face as you went on. “Not smart enough for me?” you scoffed. “Roy, I think you’re brilliant.” You sighed and shook your head. “I mean, look at you today. I could never do what you do, managing an entire football team. And I’ve seen clips of you when you played, you were brilliant then too. Not just a skilled player, but a smart one. And from what you’ve said, you have great relationships with your players, with your niece and sister, hell even with your ex-girlfriend. That takes an emotional intelligence most people don’t have.”

“I mean-”

You shushed the gruff man. “’m not finished. And what’s this about you not being able to keep up with me? You read almost as much as I do, Roy. When you don’t know something, you immediately learn everything you can about it. You absolutely tore through ‘Le Morte d'Arthur’ after our first date so you could ask me about my King Arthur article.” A smile finally broke through your face. “So, unless this is some roundabout way of trying to say you don’t want to see me anymore, please stop insulting the man I’m dating and accept that there’s different kinds of intelligence. And I like your intelligence quite a bit.”

For a moment, you thought you may have completely overwhelmed Roy. He blinked at you with an unreadable expression before letting out a breathy chuckle. With raised eyebrows and something that looked close to a smile, he finally opened his mouth.

“I’ve just… never had such an intelligent girlfriend before,” he said slowly. “I’ve dated smart women. Driven women. But no one like you. It’s… a little scary, how brilliant you are.” That something close to a smile became a real grin as he intertwined his fingers with yours. “And really fucking sexy,” he added quickly.

Your heart skipped a beat with every word out of his mouth. “You’ve never had a nerdy girlfriend before, hmm?” you teased.

His expression was bashful, but absolutely pleased. “No,” he chuckled. “I haven’t.”

A smirk crossed your face as you batted your eyes at him. “Do you want a nerdy girlfriend?”

Those brown eyes were so soft, so full of affection as he nodded gently. “Yeah,” he breathed, raising those thick eyebrows at you. “I really fucking do.”

“That,” you hummed with a silly grin, “might be the smartest thing you’ve said all day, Roy.”

[vminizzle]

Sex shop

pairing : bestfriend!jungkook x f.reader

genre : SMUT, fluff

warnings :masturbation, really bad description of sex shop & stuff (sorry), mention of sex toys (not used, maybe in part 2 who knows ;) hehe ), teasing, use of pet names, praising, marking, first time, love making, penetrative sex, unprotected sex ( wrap It up guys! ), creampie, slight cockwarming, THEY ARE CUTE UGH

best friends ͜͡➸ to lovers ♡

words count : 4.2k

A/N : pls I’m insane (the way I had to clean my search history) ,, sorry this is a whole mess. I don’t know what I had in mind when I started writing this. I spent ages on this fic and ngl it didn’t turn out how I wanted but I tried my best :). I wrote this there is a long time ago but I decided to edit it 💀 & sorry for my english.

FEEDBACKS ARE VERY WELCOMED

M RATED

“see you on monday!” you waved at Jungkook as he waved back driving away.

You sighed as you walk to your friend.

“so, today your boyfriend doesn’t walk you home?” she teased. 

“Jungkook is not my boyfriend“ you blushed slapping her arm playfully.

"please you guys are always together. like always! Studying, hanging out together, shopping, lunch.. Except when he’s working on the weekends. He even sleep at your house.. I’m asking myself what you guys do-”

You gasped slapping her arm lightly.

“what? Chaeyoung stop! don’t say non-sense, we’re just..best friends.” you retorted looking down.

“yea yea whatever.”

Chaeyoung and you walked to your house, eating ice creams on your way.

“so what you wanna do?” you asked unlocking the front door.

“let’s just do nothing.” you laughed nodding.

You were laying on your couch scrolling though your social networks lazily when Chaeyoung suddenly jumped on you.

“Yo look at this!” she shoved her phone to your face.

“what is it?”

“it talks about masturbation.” she explained.

“and what about it?” you asked confused.

“I read that some women masturbate with water pression.” your cheeks heated up at her sudden burst.

“w-why are you even reading this?” you handed her the phone back.

“ just saw a girl from our promo repost this article.” she shrugged.

“that’s really suprising. I mean I’ve never thought about masturbation with water pression. Like I mean, using toys are easier no?” you looked at her eyes wide open.

“oh my god stop!” you threw a pillow at her face as she caught it midway laughing.

“wait! Don’t tell me you don’t masturbate, do you?” you hesitated before answering.

“i-it’s kind of personal.” you muttered.

“ugh stooooop we’re friends.. except you rather talk about it with your "best friend.” she wiggled her eyebrows teasingly.

“Can you just stop with him?“ you groaned.

“so tell me.” she whined shaking your arm repeatedly.

“well, yea.. like every other teenagers.” you cleared your voice making her grin.

“how many toys do you have?” she asked curiously.

“ok enough! this is so embarrassing.” you whined.

“not at all.” finally letting go of your arm as she grab her soda can on the glass table in front of you both.

“i don’t own any...” you muttered.

Chaeyoung chocked in her soft drink “you don’t?!” you shook your head.

“I don’t need it so.. yea.”

She stared at you silently for awhile.

“you should buy one.”

“why?“ you laughed awkwardly.

“it’ll be a new experience, another level of pleasure. And maybe it’ll please you more than your fingers or whatever."

How can she talks so openly? you thought.

“i know a great little sex shop not so far from here!” she exclaimed.

“you should check it out!”

“I’ll think about it.” you said, wanting this conversation to end.

❁ — •*:｡✩

You furrowed your eyebrows, bottom lip caught between your teeth, the pressure on your clit making you feel frustrated.

Your legs spread wide open, fingers going in and out of you slowly to tease you a bit.

Rubbing little circles with your thumb on the throbbing nerve trying to stimulate you a bit more.

10 minutes. 10 fucking minutes that you were trying to make yourself cum.

You didn’t know if you were too tense, stressed or exhausted but these days you couldn’t make yourself reach your highs. You groaned and gave up as you sigh annoyed getting up to wash your hand.

—

Later, you smiled as you sat on the edge of your bed, noticing a message from your best friend on your phone.

[20:42] kook : just arrived home, I hope you spent a nice afternoon. You’re probably sleeping or watching something on Netflix without me :( 

[20:44] y/n : hey yes i did. How was work? nahh I’m gonna sleep. wanna wait for you next week to watch our serie :)

[20:45] kook : work was alright. ohhh that’s my girl hehe can’t wait for next week then!

[20:47] y/n : nice then. You’re working all day tomorrow ?

[20:48] kook : yea unfortunately I’m working all day :(

[20:49] y/n : ughh!! good luck for tomorrow. Go take a bath and rest idiot. 

[20:51] kook: thanks princess! Sleep well too love ya ♡ 

[20:53] y/n : hehe love you too ♡

You let your body fell back on the mattress, smiling like an idiot at the small conversation.

Jungkook could always make you smile without even trying.

Noticing a early message from Chaeyoung, you opened it.

[18:57] Chae : here the address of the sex shop I talked about earlier : <address>. I know how curious you are sometimes 👀 hehe you’ll tell me. xoxo

Your smile vanished when you thought about your little talk with Chaeyoung.

“ok” you sighed deeply.

“I’ll go to this shop tomorrow.”

❁ — •*:｡✩

Waking up with the warm sunlights caressing your body gently. You stretched out groaning at the sore muscles.

You checked your phone. 1pm.

Well damn, that was a long sleep.

You decided to take a shower, eat lunch and get ready to “visit” this little shop.

—

Not wanting to be seen at such a place, you put a cap enough to hide your face a bit. You went for a oversized hoodie, a jean and a pair of vans.

Comfy.

You didn’t know why you were so nervous to go there. Is it because you’re scared to meet someone you know there? Is it because you’re embarrassed to see all the stuffs you’ll probably discover there? What type of things you’ll find?

“C’mon that’s just a shop y/n the fuck is wrong with you." you whisper-yelled to yourself before pulling your cap lower.

You took a deep breath as you put your hand on the knob of the door.

“Let’s go.”

Entering the place hesitantly, you looked at your surroundings. Deep red velvety walls, lights keeping the shop bright enough to make it less dark, shelves full of stuff you never knew the existence of.

The cashier welcomed you and you smiled at him politely.

Walking further through the shop, you noticed shelves filled with magazines, covers of obscene pictures of naked women and men making you cover your eyes feeling like a shocked and scared kid.

You blushed as you passed by lingeries hanging on the walls. Not lying to yourself, they were so pretty.

You brushed your fingertips gently over the soft materials, some velvety ones, lacy ones and other lingeries more… revealing.

Different boxes at the back of the shop intrigued you as you approached them.

Getting closer, you gulped feeling a little lump in you throat.

“what the fuck are these oh my gosh” you whisper-yelled completely shocked.

Not only vibrators were there, but anal plugs, anal beads, dildos, strap-on dildos , bdsm toys… handcuffs, ropes , flogger , whips, open mouth gag, blindfolds, spanking paddles, cock rings (pls help me!!), fleshlights …

“nipple clamps? That sounds so painful.” you whined covering your chest.

”urethral sound? oh lord i don’t even have a penis and I can feel the pain." you held your stomach, disgust painting your face.

“the hell are these? rabbit vibrator? butterfly vibrator?… bondage hood?? h-how do people breath oh my-”

(little break, let me clean my horrible search history real quick and drink some water my head is spinning with all these new information lmao)

Looking around you noticed bondage furniture and other stuffs making you uncomfortable.

“Chaeyoung is completely insane what the hell!”

“Good afternoon, how can I help you?”

A really familiar voice could be heard behind you. You turned around only to see your best friend.

”J-Jungkook!?“ you said louder than you thought.

“y-y/n?! What are you doing here?” shock written all over his red face.

”I’m hm I.. wait! What are you doing here?” you said trying to avoid his question.

Jungkook stayed quiet, mouth opening but no words coming out.

Looking at his shirt, you noticed the logo of the shop on it. ”you work here?“

Your eyes widened as you glanced at his red ears.

”hm.. yes.” he replied, head down as he scratched the back of his neck awkwardly.

 “Oh.. that’s why you’ve never tell me more about your job…“ you trailed out.

He nodded looking at you again.

“and you? What are you doing here huh?” he asked curiosity laced in his voice.

You chewed on your bottom lip, searching for an answer.

“so?” he smiled teasingly ears still red.

“yo stop with your weird thoughts!” you punched him on his shoulder.

“personal stuff.” you muttered.

“well, I guessed it’s for personal stuff.” he looked around you smirking.

“oh shut up.”

“so what.. are you searching for?” you looked up at him shocked.

“eh that’s my job calm down.” he laughed as you looked around searching for someone else than your best friend to help you.

“I .. hm.. I came for this!” you grabbed a random box on the shelve next to you not even looking at it.

“wow..is this for you?” Jungkook tried his best not to laugh.

“yes!”

“never knew my bestie has a dick.” you looked down at the box .. cock ring.

You closed your eyes embarrassment washing over you. He laughed softly as you put the box back at his place quickly.

Looking for a diversion, you glanced behind him “hey what’s that?!” you pointed at a random spot.

When Jungkook looked over his shoulder, you grabbed the box of a vibrator running away with it.

“what?” he turned back only to see that you weren’t here anymore.

You stopped running, putting your hand over your heart as you tried to breath slower.

Looking up, you noticed that you were at the lingerie "booth”. Your eyes stayed glued on one of them.

A black one exactly.

You touched the soft bra, fingers sliding on the lacy material. It was just so cute and sexy at the same time.

You shook your head walking at the front of the shop to the cashier.

After paying your product, the cashier told you with no shame to “have fun”.

Gosh what a day.

❁ — •*:｡✩

You groaned exasperatedly throwing your purchase on your bed, this one bouncing on the mattress and ending on the floor.

You decided to take a shower, letting the warm water caress his way down your body pleasantly, helping your muscles relax, washing the stress and shame away.

After your shower, you went downstairs opening your fridge to take a bottle of ice cold water. You needed something fresh to calm down from all the events that happened today.

You swallowed down the liquid, the cold water hitting your throat in a pleasant way.

You jumped when you suddenly heard knocks on your door startling you.

You furrowed your eyebrows checking your phone to see if Chaeyoung texted you announcing she was coming over but nothing.

Opening the door you were faced to the last person you wanted to see today. The embarrassment too “fresh” to handle.

“Hi.” Jungkook smiled shyly.

You looked down nodding acknowledging his presence.

“hm.. can I come in?” he asked after a few seconds.

“oh! yea yea of course.” you let him in, closing the door behind.

“so.. what bring you here?” you talked still avoiding his eyes.

“can’t I come visit my favorite best friend?” he tilted his head to the side, raising an eyebrow up playfully.

“your one and only best friend.” you huffed.

“yep! my only one. mine.” he grinned cutely.

“yes. yours.” you smiled back this time looking at him, this one still smiling.

The atmosphere changed. You didn’t know how, why but it changed.

Something in Jungkook’s gaze changed for a second before he cleared his throat.

The word ‘yours’ affecting him a bit too much.

He couldn’t think like that, no , you’re his best friend.

But he wanted you more than that. He wanted you to be his.

A pleasant silence settled as you stared at each other, his eyes on your lips time to time.

“Can I kiss you?” he breathed out.

It was so sudden yet so tempting.

“yes.” you whispered as he approached you taking your face in his hands gently before connecting his lips with yours.

He kissed you softly, his hand sliding down your side to rest on your hip.

Kissing him felt so magical. It felt so unreal.

Jungkook pulled away, resting his forehead on yours before chuckling.

“i’ve never thought I’d kiss my pretty best friend one day.”

You chuckled hiding your face on his chest. He pulled you closer, hugging you.

This hug wasn’t like the others you shared before. This one was different. You could feel his heart beating faster when you wrapped your arms around him.

“y/n.” he spoke again.

You looked up at him waiting for him to continue.

“i.. i think.. I’m in love with you.” his cheeks red from the confession.

“think?” you teased.

He rolled his eyes smilling widely “I’m in love with you.”

“i’m in love with you too.” you said shyly before kissing his cheek.

He smiled before capturing your lips for another kiss, a sweet and loving one.

This time the kiss was longer, his hands creeping behind your back by your waist and tugging you closer onto his body.

The way your bodies were against each other’s made you feel some type of way.

A feeling you’ve never felt before. An unfamiliar feeling deep down in your stomach making you moan into the kiss as Jungkook’s hand went on your lower back pushing you harder on him.

He groaned feeling blood rushing down there. His growing boner pressed on your lower stomach.

You pulled away breathing heavily.

“I want you.” Jungkook whispered, his hands playing with the strings of your -his- hoodie.

“I want you too.”

You looked toward the stairs. Jungkook got the hint and took your hand in his walking upstairs.

It wasn’t the first time he came into your bedroom but this time, it wasn’t for studying, watching movies on your sleepovers or take naps… no this time was different.

Jungkook closed the door before walking to you, taking your chin between his thumb and index.

He leaned down, his lips envelopping yours into a loving and slow kiss again.

He started leaving little pecks, his lips trailing down to your jawline, to your neck sucking gently on the soft skin.

You walked backward to your bed letting your body fall on it pulling Jungkook in the process on top of you. He giggled softly as you caressed his cheek softly.

Your fingers went down, playing with the buttons of his shirt before unbuttoning them slowly one by one while looking into his eyes. He helped you taking it off completely throwing it away.

He bent down, lips on the side of your neck pressing light kisses, his hands sliding under your hoodie.

“can I?” he said gently pulling at the hem of the garment.

You nodded before sitting and raising your arms up. Jungkook chuckled pulling it off your beautiful body.

You suddenly froze, realizing that you were half-naked in front of him.

Your hands flew directly to your bra-covered breasts. If you felt exposed with your underwear on, you wondered how you’ll feel naked.

“don’t be shy.” Jungkook said softly.

“Easy to say when you don’t have breasts.” you muttered.

“i do have breats! But they’re super flat..it’s like they’re non-existent.” he said playfully palming his pecs.

“oh gosh stop.” you laughed slapping his arm.

Jungkook laughed too before taking your hands in his.

“look at me.” he started “your body is so beautiful. You are so beautiful. Don’t be shy around me. You know you can trust me and be yourself with me. So don’t hide from me.” you locked eyes with him, his words making your heart skip a beat.

No one ever talked like that with you.. about you.

You nodded with a smile decorating your lips.

“That’s my girl” he said as he peck your forehead.

He laid you down again gently, hands wandering on the bare skin, so soft as his fingertips caress their way up and down, goosebumps raising after their journeys. 

Jungkook lowered his head, his soft lips on your collarbone starting leaving open mouth kisses and little love bites there and then.

His mouth cascaded down on your chest, sucking on the sensitive skin to leave little reddish and purplish flowers.

He continued his way down, kissing every part he could, not forgetting to leave little marks proving that he has worshipped your beautiful body as it should.

He stopped when he reached your panties, looking up at you, a silent request to have your permission to take it off.

You hesitated for awhile, rethinking about his words. You did trust him. A lot. More than yourself perhaps? But being this exposed was really difficult for you.

Were you ready for this step?

“If you’re not ready or if you’re uncomfortable it’s ok princess, we can stop.” you heard him speak again pushing you out of your thoughts.

“take it off.” you answered.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

“Yes.” you lifted your hips a little bit as he dragged the soft material off your legs.

“so pretty.” Jungkook murmured as he caressed your thighs.

He took his time adorning them with love bites and hickeys, making them look even prettier at his eyes.

His face got higher, just above your most sensitive part.

He kissed your clit gently making you hiss. The new sensation so good making it throb, anticipation growing more and more.

The need to close your legs really tempting. And that’s exactly what you did.

Jungkook got off the bed to get rid of his pant.

You immediately looked away when he glanced at you, hands on the waistband of his boxer ready to push it down.

He blushed thinking about the fact that it was also his first time being naked in front of someone.

He still chuckled at your shyness murmuring a quiet “cute.”

Jungkook hissed as he finally freed his cock from his confinement, the sensitive tip hitting the air before slapping against his stomach.

You breath hitched when you felt the bed dip again signaling that Jungkook was back.

He made sure you were confortable, pillows behind your head, blanket over your bodies as you suggested for more ‘intimacy’.

Jungkook hovered you before talking again “are you nervous?”.

You gulped before letting a small yes escape from your mouth.

“Are you?” Jungkook nodded.

Both of you knew it was both your first time.

“If you’re not ready we can stop.” you said softly.

He smiled shyly nodding “y/n we can stop at any moment. Understood?”

You nodded hand cupping his cheek, thumb caressing the cheekbone.

Jungkook positioned himself at your entrance, the head of his cock rubbing teasingly on your folds making you moan.

“´k are you sure?” he asked one last time.

You nodded before he stopped you, shaking his head.

“I need a verbal approval y/n.”

“I’m sure and I want you to be sure too.” you said softly making him hummed.

“oh wait wait!” Jungkook exclaimed.

“what is it?” you asked confused many scenarios creating in your head ready to make you panick.

“be my girlfriend. no! I mean, w-would you like to be my girlfriend?” you chuckled at how cute he was.

“I’d love to Kook” you pecked his lips making him smile widely, eyes turning into little crescents.

Jungkook started entering you slowly and carefully making sure not to hurt you, checking up on your facial expressions time to time.

You gripped on his bicep hard as it started to burn. The unfamiliar intrusion uncomfortable.

You hissed, the pain making his presence more and more.

“are you ok? Do you want me to stop? Pull out? I can st-”

“i’m good don’t worry, keep going slowly please.” you whispered.

Jungkook peppered kisses on your cheek and neck, to distract you from the pain of the stretch as he pushed in deeper until he completely bottomed.

You groaned, tears forming in your eyes “shh, you’re doing so well darling.”

He caressed your cheeks a bit concerned “Tell me when I can move yea?”

On the other side, Jungkook suffered in his own way.

He scrunched his nose, bottom lip trapped between his teeth at the warm tightness around him so foreign, his mind going wild.

You took a deep breath, trying to surpass the burn down there.

You nodded gesturing him to move again. This one, thrusted in and out slowly, taking his time not to hurt you and enjoy the new sensation around him.

He groaned as he started feeling this exciting and pleasuring feeling making his cock twitched inside you.

You moaned softly, the pain fading away and the pleasure coming gradually.

The burn was still there but it was bearable, it felt good as Jungkook continued his slow moves.

“J-Jungkook” you breathed out hand gripping his bicep tightly nails digging into the flesh.

“you ok princess?” he whispered against your lips.

“It f-feels good.. you feel so good” your eyelids getting heavy, trying your best to keep your eyes on him.

He looked so handsome. On top of you, lips swollen with all the kisses exchanged, a light blush decorating his cheeks, his ears red, chest gleaming with sweat, little droplets formed on his forehead….. so ethereal.

As Jungkook continued moving in and out of you, the pleasure took over, the painful burn long forgotten.

Your hands travelled to his back, fingernails were buried into the soft flesh of his muscular back drawing little crescents.

“you’re doing so good baby. so good for me.” he caressed your cheek.

Jungkook took his time making love to you, nibbling on your earlobe lightly as he whisper sweet nothings into your ear.

You scratched his back as he gripped your thigh lifting it a bit getting deeper inside you.

“fuck please don’t stop.” you whimpered voice cracking, his length rubbing deliciously against your warm velvelty walls.

The wet and warm feeling around him made him feel lightheaded. You felt too good to be true.

He pressed butterfly kisses on your jawline, his lips travelling down leaving beautiful dark red flowers on your neck, continuing his path to your collarbone biting it lightly enough to form a little mark. “so pretty.” he whispered more to himself.

He let out a low groan as you clenched around him “fuck!” he rolled his hips sensually grazing over your sweet spot making you whined out loudly.

You ran your fingers through his soft locks. You squeezed your eyes shut, letting your head fall back into the pillows as Jungkook hit deeper.

Art. Just art. You looked like a masterpiece.

All covered up with hickeys, the red and purple marks on your skin making his eyes sparkling with lust, admiration and love.

“you’re so beautiful. so beautiful all marked up.” he said fingers running over the little bruises he left. “mine. you’re mine.”

The vein of his neck was prominent as he moaned when you tightened around him, the pressure making him weak to a point “baby d-don’t stop clenching p-please.” 

“Jungkook I think I’m- fuck.” you moaned feeling the knot in your lower stomach tighter, your heart beating faster as the pleasure propagated inside you.

Jungkook placed your calve over his waist, he cupped your jawline, his lips barely touching yours as he whispered “cum for me love.”

He furrowed his eyebrows at the way your walls convulse around him. “fuck! I’m so near!”

Jungkook slid his veiny hands up your arms until they reached your hands, pinning them at each side of your head as he tangled your fingers together.

The sweet little gesture making your heart stop.

He bent down to press kisses on the sensitive marked-skin of your neck. His touches overwhelming you.

Butterflies finally blooming into your lower stomach as you came around him.

The sudden wave of pleasure forming tears in your eyes as they slid down your cheeks. His name leaving your throat in a high pitched moan.

Your soft moans pushed him over the edge of his own release, he moaned deeply as he came inside you, filling you up to the brim.

The warm cum made you sigh as you let your body relax against the soft sheet.

“i love you.” he pushed stands of hair out of your face.

Heat rushed to your cheeks, the three words making your heart melt.

“i love you.” you whispered softly, caressing the back of his head gently.

Jungkook buried his face into the crook of your neck, his breath tickling you.

You chuckled, hand stroking up and down his back to soother the scratched skin. He looked up at you before pecking the tip of your nose.

“’m tired.” you mumbled yawning.

“let’s get you clean up first cutie.”

He was about to pull out when you groaned pulling him down on you. “let’s stay like this please?” shyness showing up again.

“as you wish princess.”

He laid a kiss on your temple before turning around on his back, pulling you on top of him. His slow heartbeats and an last I love you were the last thing you heard before drifting off in his warm embrace.

a beautiful relationship started and probably a wild one …

—

a/n : not a frequent f2l fic right? I hope i did good - a part 2? I love writing fluffy smut since I’m a romantic person 😭 sorry sorry. Anyways, thanks for reading luvs. Take care of yourselves :)

+ I forgot to add that jk and reader are both college students and it’s a part job for Jungkook.

[felassan]

Article: 'The Industry Is Divided On How To Write Video Game Romance', by Kenneth Shepard

Baldur’s Gate 3 is the latest big game to follow an inclusive (but divisive) trend in video game courtship

excerpts from the article are under a cut due to length and mentions and discussions of queerphobia, biphobia etc.

(note: I have censored the term "pl****sexual" throughout these quotes).

Some excerpts:

"In 2011, BioWare’s Dragon Age II portrayed its four main romantic conquests as bisexual, allowing them to be pursued by either the male or female version of main character Hawke. At the time, I was a young, mostly-but-not-completely out gay high school student, and I spent hours each week on the BioWare forums, hoping for some information about which men I’d be able to pursue as I ventured through the fantasy city of Kirkwall. When the game finally came out, much to my delight, there were no restrictions. I wasn’t forced into one choice like I was with the roguish elf Zevran in Dragon Age: Origins, or excluded completely like the first two Mass Effect games. The approach was met with predictable pushback from bigots, and Lead Writer David Gaider responded to criticisms that the game neglected the “main demographic” of the “straight male” in what became a core text about who deserves to be depicted in video game romances. He wrote: “The romances in the game are not for ‘the straight male gamer’. They’re for everyone. We have a lot of fans, many of whom are neither straight nor male, and they deserve no less attention. We have good numbers, after all, on the number of people who actually used similar sorts of content in DAO and thus don’t need to resort to anecdotal evidence to support our idea that their numbers are not insignificant... and that’s ignoring the idea that they don’t have just as much right to play the kind of game they wish as anyone else. The ‘rights’ of anyone with regards to a game are murky at best, but anyone who takes that stance must apply it equally to both the minority as well as the majority. The majority has no inherent ‘right’ to get more options than anyone else.” The idea that romances could be “for everyone” stuck with me, and with the video game industry. Dragon Age II was an early example of what has become colloquially known as “pl****sexual” experiences, in which every romanceable character is pursuable regardless of your character’s gender. Everyone got an equal piece of the pie. Queer people weren’t relegated to table scraps while straight people got to have a feast. But it turns out, giving everyone all the same options brings its own baggage, and in the years since Dragon Age II, developers are still struggling to find the best approach. The mother of invention According to Gaider, while Dragon Age II’s love stories have become a model for inclusive romance design, they originally took this form due to the sequel’s breakneck development timeline. “We were working on far fewer resources compared to Dragon Age: Origins,” Gaider told Kotaku. “The whole game was gonna be done within a year and a half. So when it came up to how are we gonna do the romances, it was really a matter of economy. We’re gonna have four romances. If we decide to make them sort of a spread of sexualities that are immutable, then there’s no choice for the player. They have one character available to them, and we didn’t like that idea.” Resource division and lack of choice remains a cloud that hangs over even the biggest games that feature romance."

-

"When every romanceable character is pursuable regardless of who the player is, it creates a perception that these characters’ identities are defined by the protagonist’s presence. Gaider likens this to treating characters like a “toy” just meant to be romanced. This is part of how the “pl****sexual” moniker came to be, as it implies that characters weren’t bisexual or pansexual, but adhered to whatever main character they came across in any given playthrough. Dragon Age II has a specific plot beat that added to this: If the player chose to play a male version of Hawke, Anders would be forthcoming about his past relationship with another man, but that conversation doesn’t come up when playing as a woman. Gaider explained this was meant to distinguish how Anders related to male and female versions of the same character, with the BioWare team believing he might keep a past relationship with a man “close to his chest” if he were interested in a woman. In retrospect, he says he understands how it could be read as something only real in one version of the story. “Unfortunately, we just didn’t have enough time to get enough feedback and iterate on those situations,” he said. “We would hit a particular interaction, we would make a judgment call either as a group or the writer on their own, and that was it. There was no time for anything more than one gut-check, which is probably not the way to go.” Room to explore While Dragon Age II was written to accommodate any pairing because of the economic realities of its development, it’s become a recurring blueprint for several romance-driven games."

-

"As Dragon Age II has been pivotal in discussions around the pl****sexual design philosophy, its successor Dragon Age: Inquisition has been hugely influential on relationship systems featuring more defined identities. Gaider said the decision to tweak the approach came from a desire to decenter the protagonist in each of these character’s lives. “We didn’t like how [pl****sexual] made the characters feel like they existed in service of the player; like they were there in the game to be a toy. [...] We felt like that wasn’t why those characters existed. That wasn’t the kind of game we were making. These characters were characters first, and they had their own stories, and the player could interact with them, but it wasn’t always about the player.” The result of this shift is characters like Dorian Pavus, a mage from the land of the Tevinter Emperium, who is a gay man. His backstory involves nearly being put through a magical version of conversion therapy, an abusive and baseless real-world practice reliant on mental and often religious conditioning. Dorian’s parents planned to use dark magic to make him straight and take part in an arranged marriage, prompting him to run from his family. His story touches on real-life experiences of queer people, and fills in Dragon Age’s world in the process. “Dorian’s story could not be told if he was in a game where pl****exuality was the rule of the day,” Gaider said. “When I say that it opens up different types of stories, Dorian is the best example, because his story is about being homosexual and that doesn’t work in any other context. So that was very special. [...] it meant a lot to me as a gay man that I had this opportunity.” Defining Dorian as a gay man is intrinsic to his story, but sometimes the effects of this approach aren’t as grandiose. Cassandra, the first party member you get in Inquisition, is a straight woman, and if you flirt with her as a female protagonist, she takes you aside and tells you…well, straight up. Whether that’s a fun wrinkle to your story or feels like the game is gating content is in the eye of the beholder. “For players who just wanted to romance whoever they wanted, they would do something like encounter Cassandra as a female character and get turned down and be like, ‘that’s not the game I wanted,’” Gaider said. “But then you had other people who were like, ‘that was really cool that Cassandra has her own identity, and it has nothing to do with who the player is.’ I think that makes for more realistic characters, and a more coherent world, and allowed us to create characters that were more self-realized.” The middle ground between opting for pl****sexual romances and representing the queer experience is making sure those bisexual and pansexual identities exist whether the player is there or not. Baldur’s Gate 3’s party is a solid example of this. Characters like Gale, Wyll, Astarion, and Shadowheart have established relationships and flirt with others of different genders, regardless of whether the player romances them. This ensures their identity doesn’t come off like a switch to be flipped depending on which protagonist shows up at the beginning of the game. Gaider points out that part of circumventing the weaknesses of the pl****sexual approach is adding “a metric ton of content” as Baldur’s Gate 3 did. Overcoming those hurdles is “possible, just very expensive.” Howard-Arias cited Dorian from Inquisition as an example of a story that could not be told in a pl****sexual game"

-

"When you’re on the outside looking in, it’s tempting to assume developers are intentionally snubbing certain groups of people. The Mass Effect series pushed the envelope for sex and romance in its time, but it was deeply dismissive of queer men, and BioWare’s explanations of Commander Shepard supposedly being a “predefined” character weren’t satisfactory considering the series’ emphasis on choice. Breaking down choices to numbers isn’t telling the whole story, but it does ultimately leave some people feeling burned. “[Some players reacted to limited romance] like it was unfair that I didn’t get more options, as if in-game romances were a matter of social justice,” Gaider said. “Like, in terms of how fairly you allotted them to players, like candy being divided. It’s such an awkward conversation to have because it’s so removed from the realm of game development. But still, game developers do need to stop and have that conversation.”"

-

"Even the word “pl****sexual” sounds like it’s an identity, which can be problematic. Gaider points out this is especially touchy for bisexual and pansexual people, who often face erasure in the real world, so labeling characters as something other than what they actually are sours the discussion before it even starts. Hunter echoed the sentiment, saying having characters “flip flop” felt like a betrayal. “The difference between a bisexual character versus a pl****sexual character really is a matter of context,” Gaider says. “By calling a character ‘pl****exual,’ you’re sort of erasing the fact that they are bisexual, but, the part where having a term for that becomes useful is when you start to investigate, like, why is this character bisexual?” So these two distinct approaches aim to be inclusive, but both can carry a perception of unfairness to either queer identity or queer experience. The sentiment from everyone I spoke to was that both approaches are legitimate; they just have their own pitfalls that anyone making a game should be aware of. Sometimes you just have to accept when one game is aspiring to something different than another. Gaider says the key to making either approach work is to stop trying to please everyone. “Say something with your writing, with your game, with your romances. Because if you don’t say anything, if your goal is to make it inoffensive, then it’s gonna land like a wet fart. It’s not gonna have any substance to it,” he said. “So say something and just be aware of how it can be interpreted and stand by it. That’s all you can do as a creator.”"

[source and full article link. the full article also discusses and covers other games]

[kimsohn]

even if the world caves in,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ll be more careful. I promise.”

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

Hollywood’s favorite celebrity turned dancer.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’re gritting through your teeth as you answer.

“No comment. Next question, please.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you for your time, Y/N.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Chanhee, I know it’s you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Please turn on the fucking news Vernon.”

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

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

“Vernon, it’s Chanhee.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Just what exactly have you gotten yourself into?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sangyeon nods, urging him to continue.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chanhee scoffs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Actually, it might be a little bit bad.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/N, watch out!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Be there in five.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You smile, watching Chanhee be starstruck by his surroundings.

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

He laughs, relaxing a little.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, thank you. See you soon.”

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

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

on set. wbu?

Driving to somewhere special!

oooh spill??

I’ll let you know after I get there

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey, I didn’t mean it like that—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Really? I didn’t know.”

You nod in confirmation, grinning slightly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Chanhee, I—”

“Get off me. Please.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Then help me understand!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you drunk?”

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

“Where are you right now?”

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

“Send me your location.”

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

“Y/N, wait—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I wanted to cuss you out.”

“Okay, so cuss me out then.”

You sigh, rubbing your temple.

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

“Y/N, I—”

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

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

“Let me follow you up,” he asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Good night, Y/N.”

You’re far too asleep to even respond.

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

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

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

“Good morning. Sorry I overslept.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Chanhee, you’re not—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Forever and always."

[borathae]

hey! i don't understand what is happening rn... i tried reading a few articles but i can easily make out that it's fucked up propaganda and are highly biased. ik that yoongi got in a case. i've seen the vid too so ik that it isn't THAT BIG OF DEAL. so idfk know wtf is happening at this point. cud u break it down pls? I wouldn't mind a link to a genuine article that's just facts...

thnx!! much luv ✨️

On the 6th of August, Yoongi drove around 500m on an electric scooter (something like this, not the correct model idk the correct one but something like this) from a restaurant he had dinner at to his house. He drove on the sidewalk in a straigth line, very slowly and carefully then when he took a turn into his apartment's street, he fell. He wore a helmet and the only person "who could have gotten hurt" was himself but he didn't. He got up right away but three patrolling officers saw him and confronted him. They suspected him to be drunk, so they did a breath analyser test and the results came out to something under 0,08% (idk the exact results, but they were under this number or this number exact. and to give a perspective, that's around the number you have after one and a half beer) and because of that, he got fined and his scooter license revoked. The punishment was done. The case was closed.

Or so we all thought.

Yoongi instantly came onto Weverse and confessed. HE WAS THE FIRST PERSON WE EVEN HEARD OF THIS INCIDENT FROM!!! HE LEGITEMATELY WAS THE FIRST AND HE APOLOGISED RIGHT AWAY!!!!

And it should have been done by then. He apologised, he got the legal punishment and IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN DONE BY THEN.

But it wasn't. South Korean Media (aka Satan's spawn which came outta his asshole) blew it out of proportions, they spread false information, spread falls cctv videos, spread lies about him in his service, slandered his name and shamed him. They literally tried to fucking murder his public image and many "ARMYs" jumped on the hate train as well (they're another species of Satan's asshole spawn). Obviously Knetz did as well because they're jobless, loveless assholes. They wanted him to apologise over and over again, wanted him to leave BTS, wanted him jailed, wanted him dead. It is literally fucking insane.

It came that far that it has been literally almost a month and it's still going on (bear in mind, Yoongi was the first person who dropped the news on the night of it happening and he apologised right away and took responsibility. It should have ended with that).

Then on the 23rd of August he was called to the police station because the entire backlash started an investigation (like WTF???) and K-media reporters were illegally (or legaly? please correct me if I'm wrong) waiting in front of the station, bombarding him with cameras and making him publicly apologise for everything (I thankfully didn't see anything about it except one video on tiktok I had forced onto my FYP about him literally bowing while too many camera flashes went off. I reported and blocked this account so fast, seeing this video upset me so much).

It should have been over then, fuck it never even should have come that fucking far, but it wasn't.

Now today, Yoongi comes online and writes this heartbreaking apology letter and it breaks my fucking heart. It should have been over when he wrote that first post, he got legally punished and he apologised. It should have been over then, but instead it escalated into this.

If you want to help check out Cam's twitter page, she has templates we can send to companies etc. which will help Yoongi. Also check out Min Suga HQ and their template. And keep reporting people who spread hateful lies about him on social media. Please don't share any pictures/videos about the incident or police station and don't engage with these accounts except for reporting & blocking them.

Let's keep sending him loving messages on Weverse and stream/buy his music! istfg I wanna do so much more for him, but at least like this we can show him that he is loved 💜 let's keep fighting for him and showing him love 💜

I hope he is surrounded by people who truly love him and that he finds some sort of rest soon 💜

[player1064]

“It’s still just as hard to return to his own bed afterwards as it had been four years ago” has RUINED me.. pls expand on them getting together omgggg

(in reference to my drabble from the other day)

me writing parts of the wife-Gary saga where they're in a committed relationship: fun. silly. these two idiots are so insufferable and drive everyone crazy w how in love they are.

me writing parts of the wife-Gary saga BEFORE they're in a committed relationship: they are so fucking tragic. and the REASON they are so fucking tragic is bc they are stupid. and repressed. and don't know how to have normal human conversations with each other.

---

 June, 2016.

“God, Carragher, ‘re you stalkin’ me? How is it that you’re always here after the shit games?”

“Calm down, lad, it’s only happened twice and I know you’ve had a lot more shit games than that. ‘Sides, ‘salmost like talkin’ about football is my job.”

“They should fuckin’ fire you, then,” Gary mutters.

Jamie raises a hand to his chest with an over-dramatic gasp. “But then we’d both be out a job. Think of the children, Gaz, how’re we gonna provide for them?”

Gary chuckles, but it comes out weak and bitter, shooting down any hopes Jamie has of lightening the mood.

He looks bad, is the thing. He looks really, really bad. Each month of the last six seems to have aged him an extra year, he’s pale and unkempt and he’s gained weight since Jamie had last seen him. And he’s looking at Jamie like – like he’d rather be looking at anyone else. Like he doesn’t trust him.

“That was cruel, Jamie, what you wrote,” he says flatly.

It’s my job, Jamie could argue, the articles get more clicks if I’m mean.

Instead, he looks Gary in the eye and says “I know. But someone had to say it.”

Gary rubs a hand over his jaw, huffs a sigh. “D’you not remember what it was like?” he asks, squinting at Jamie. “To wear the badge. I mean, I know it weren’t the same as Liverpool, for you. Weren’t the same as United for me, to be fair. But you must remember. End of the day, they’re just boys. We were too, all them years ago.”

“Gary, they played like shit,” Jamie says, gentle as he can. It doesn’t even occur to him to lie, to tell some meaningless platitude about how they tried their best. It was fucking Iceland.

“Yeah,” Gary says. “Yeah, I know.”

*

All Jamie wants is to say something mean, to tease Gary and make him laugh and for everything to just go back to fucking normal, for him to have seen Gary more than twice in the last six months. For those two meetings to have been after some fucking wins, instead of –

They sit side by side in the hotel bar, drinking in silence and staring blankly ahead.

Feels a lot like Barcelona.

“Ha,” Gary replies when he tells him this. “Fucking Spain.”

Jamie, who has never known Spain to do anything but take, raises his glass to that. “Fuckin’ Spain.”

Gary turns his head to look at him, makes a little high-pitched humming noise before shaking his head and staring down at the counter top instead.

“What?”

“Nothin’,” he says quickly. “’s stupid.”

Not like Jamie’s got anything better to do than sit and wait for Gary to get over himself, so that’s exactly what he does.

Eventually, Gary starts up again, voice unsteady. “I always wondered, um. If Spain was as shit for you as it was for me.”

“Well I never lost 7-0, lad, so I’m gonna go with no,” Jamie jokes, even though he knows that’s not what Gary means.

Because what he knows Gary means is –

“I mean Madrid, James. I guess – I’ve been thinkin’ a lot, obviously, about Spain. And how before all this –” he waves a hand vaguely in the air. “—before all this, Spain was just – it was only ever Madrid, tha’s all it meant to me. And I always wondered, ever since – d’you remember 2004? I always remember gettin’ to training camp, that year, an’ I saw you ‘n him, and I thought, I mean – I wondered, if maybe it was the same. For you, as it was for me. I remember thinkin’ that.”

2004 was… What springs to mind, when Jamie thinks of 2004, when he thinks of Gary Neville in 2004, is how much he fucking hated him. He remembers watching him at England camps, watching him with Beckham and wondering how the fuck they were able to carry on like nothing had changed, when it was taking all of Jamie’s energy to be civil to his oldest friend.

“I think…” he says carefully, ever so slightly terrified that he’s read this all wrong. “I think it was, yeah. I think it was the same.”

Gary breathes a sigh of relief.

He looks back at Jamie, unblinking, and asks quietly “what about Valencia?”

“What about it?”

“Was’at the same, for you. As Madrid. ‘Cause it felt – not the same, I s’pose, but – similar. Similar enough. For me.”

Jamie takes him in, the dark circles under his eyes, the hunched shoulders. The way he’s nervously biting his lip. Jamie takes it all in, and he thinks fucking Spain, and he thinks fucking Iceland.

“What’re you asking me, Gary?”

“Come up to my room with me?”

*

“Jamie,” Gary says breathlessly, eyes wide, as Jamie grinds their hips together like they’re a pair of fucking teenagers, “Jamie, Jamie, Jamie.”

“Christ, Gary,” Jamie huffs. Except it comes out softer than he’d meant it to. Christ, Gary. He splays one hand over Gary’s bare chest, scraping his fingernails over the pale skin. “You really don’t ever shut up, do ya?”

Gary flushes, brings a hand up to cover his mouth. Jamie grabs hold of his wrist and tugs it away.

“No, I didn’t mean –” he starts, painfully aware of what a fucking fool he’s about to make of himself. “I didn’t mean stop. ‘s nice. ‘s always nice, t’hear you dronin’ on.”

“Oh fuck you, Carra,” Gary says, but there’s a new twinkle in his eye. His blush has toned down to a delicious shade of pink, which makes Jamie want to do stupid things, like lean down and kiss him on the cheek, or say to him –

No. That can’t be what this is.

He smirks instead, says “think I’d rather fuck you,” delights in the way Gary’s grip on his arse tightens.

“Maybe next time, James, go easy on an old man.”

“Bit full of ourselves, are we? Thinkin’ I’ll be wantin’ a repeat performance?”

“More thinkin’ you’ll be wantin’ a rematch, ‘cause so far you’re a shit fuckin’ lay.”

“Am I fuck.”

*

The problem, when you really think about it, isn’t Jamie at all. He’s lying on his side, propped up with his elbow, and he’s watching Gary smile dozily at him.

The problem isn’t Gary, either. Or maybe it is, maybe the fact that he’s not the problem is causing a whole new set of problems, but Jamie can’t slow down his racing mind enough to deal with that right now.

No, the problem is fucking Spain, it's Valencia, it's Madrid, it’s David Beckham and it’s Michael Owen. The problem is this hotel in France, and it’s Iceland, and it’s Roy Hodgson, and it’s fifty years of hurt. The problem is about an hour’s drive down the M62, the problem is lying across from him, fingers lightly tracing the scars on his stomach, and the problem is saying “think I could love you, y’know,” as easily as you might say ‘it’s going to rain today’, or ‘Manchester United will never win the league again’.

And the problem, the real problem, is that Jamie can’t say it back. The problem is he’s never been able to say it, not to anyone.

So fine, maybe Jamie’s the problem.

He leans forward and brushes his lips against Gary’s, feels his pleased little hum, feels him try pull Jamie closer.

Jamie pulls away, slips out of the bed. He keeps his back to Gary when he says “I’ll see you at work when new season starts, then, yeah?”

“Oh,” he hears Gary say, voice small. “Oh, right. Yeah, I’ll – yeah.”

Jamie pulls his clothes back on and walks out the door. He’s got a flight to catch soon, anyways.

[merymoonbeam]

Hello ^_^ I wonder if there is a page that does an in-depth character analysis of Azriel? Usually when I typed into Google, decent articles did not come up. Wiki seems inadequate to me. If there are articles that provide deeper analysis, I would like to look at them.

Wiki is def inadequate lol and VERY BIASED.

A little story...when acosf got released some fans(💀we all know who that is) were guarding that page with their life bc elriels would add elain as azriel's love interest or change some part of the page and they would change back to the way they had done it which was to remove elain from the page as love interest and add a whole explanation of the gwyn part of the bonus chapter there as if everyone has access to the bonus chapter lmfao. Mind you the way they wrote it had as much as word as the bonus chapter itself when the wiki page should only be a summery...but you know try to manipulate the fandom as much as possible and they held onto that page with their life. And at the end the mods locked the page for editing lmfao. It was kinda funny.

Anyways...I dont know any in depth character analysis. If anyone knows pls reblog and add. 🫡

[freesidexjunkie]

Trouble

Small piece of durgetash drivel i wrote while a lil tipsy and feeling some kind of way about the Baldur's Mouth Gazette mission. Will upload to AO3 when i get better signal.

Gortash x f!Durge oc - AO3

Fluff, playing chicken with each other, manipulation, small threats. Pls enjoy 🥺

"Miss... Miss! You can't go–" That was all the guard got out before he found a dagger against his throat, silencing him to a whimper.

Gortash could, of course, hear this exchange going on outside of his office. He was debating how far he was going to let her go, to see how badly she wanted in. This was enough for now, he decided; he'd spare the poor guard. Flaming Fists weren't as replaceable with Orin prowling the streets.

"Let her in," he said, a hint of bemusement in his voice. After a moment, the door swung open violently. Maevris strolled leisurely to his desk, a measured smile on her face. Without the bloodstains and the shaking guard, one could almost mistake her for a person paying a pleasant social visit.

"Ah, my most efficient assassin! A pleasure. To what do I owe–" She dropped a stack of papers on his desk wordlessly, smiling at him with her blade still at her side.

A test print of the Baldur's Mouth Gazette lay on his desk, along with a letter in his hand. Not signed, of course, but recognizable to anyone who would care to notice. Warning! Dangerous Band of Adventurers Bring Absolutist Chaos to Our City! The paper cried out, with an unmistakably portrait of Mae and her band of misfits.

"I'm beginning to question the integrity of this alliance," she said coolly. "I wonder how this article could impact our... joint endeavor."

Gortash glanced over the newspaper and letter. "Tsk. Someone's been snooping. I didn't think the printing press was open to the public," he said with a half cocked smile.

"I'm remarkably tenacious," she said, "especially when threatened by men with feathered hats bigger than their sense. But, I suppose he's more useful to your plans than I am, if you're so ready to throw me to the wolves."

Her words dripped sweetly like honey, coating the malicious undertones as she twisted her dagger between her fingers. A subconscious habit that survived Orin's attack. He found the familiarity comforting, for a moment. "An insurance policy, my dear," he said, looking up at her, "until you were more certain where your allegiances lay."

"What an interesting way to win over my allegiance, then," she said as she perched herself on the corner of his desk.

Slander her name publicly, invent a reason for the Steel Watch to detain her. She would resist, of course, but they would be ordered to bring her in with non-lethal methods. Once she was declawed and separated from her traveling companions, Mae would certainly be much easier to talk to. She could be reasoned with, surely, without those do-gooders clinging to her. It wasn't a bad plan, if Ettvard had been more cautious.

"You know, you would have one advantage in this partnership, if you weren't so keen to throw it away," she said, looking down at him.

"Oh?" He said back with a lazy smile. He had missed their little sparring matches. "And what is that, dearest?"

"I don't have an opinion on you yet, one way or the other," she said, twirling her knife on its tip against the wooden desktop. "We might work well together, or we might not. I'm decidedly undecided, I suppose. But you do things like this, and it... tips the needle in the wrong direction." She lifted her blade up and brought it back down swiftly, stabbing the tip into the grain of the desk, all while keeping her face completely calm and measured.

He couldn't help but grin fully back up at her. A lovely display. "A thousand apologies, then," he said as he stood up and walked around the desk. "However, I do think I have at least one more advantage."

"And what's that?" She asked, feigning disinterest as she pulled her dagger from the desk and sheathed it at her side.

He came up behind her, barely a whisper away from her back. "I remember you better than you remember yourself," he whispered just above the skin of her neck before planting slow, delicate kisses trailing down the space just behind her ear.

She melted into the touch in spite of herself as an arm came to rest on her waist. Just as quickly as it came, the moment was over, as Gortash withdrew his touch and walked to a bookshelf. That momentary lapse of self control was all it took; the split second, involuntary movement of her body to his, and they both know where the balance of power was shifting in this battle. The smirk he had when he turned to face her, leaning against a shelf so cockily, said that he knew exactly what he was doing.

Two could play at that game. She hopped off of the desk corner and strolled over to him, stopping almost flush against his chest with her arms behind her back. Tilting her face up to his, with the most saccharine smile she could muster, she said, "so what is it that you want, then? Am I a partner, or a plaything?"

He grinned back down at her, eyes hooded, as he put a hand under her chin and brought her face inches from his. "I suppose that's up to you, dear," he said.

Mae stood on her tip toes and leaned in to whisper in his ear, hands on his shoulder for balance. "And how would I go about convincing you I'm more useful as your equal?" She purred.

He chuckled, and she felt it rumble through his chest under her hands. He put one arm lazily around her middle and leaned in to press a small kiss to the side of her head. "Not with such an obvious show of manipulation, pet." He teased before releasing his hold on her waist and walking back to his desk.

"As opposed to your very subtle manipulation?" She quipped back, disappointed but evidently not deterred. "You say you want to work together. Rule together. You string together all these pretty words to my face. I can't help but wonder if it's to distract me from the dagger you're planning to plunge into my back."

"Aren't daggers more your thing, Mae?" He replied as he sat at his desk again. She was already halfway across the room now.

"Give me one thing to trust. Anything. That's all I'm asking," she said as she approached his desk. "One reason to believe you're sincere."

He looked at her for a moment, amusement and admiration dancing across his face as she sat back on his desk, this time right in front of his seat. "Alright," he said, "give me your hand."

She looked at him quizzically as he reached towards her right arm, but acquiesced all the same. He took it in both hands and turned it over, holding her forearm with one hand while tracing a scar across her wrist with the other. "I was there when you got this scar. It was in Mephistopheles' vault. You were trying to disarm a trap, and it triggered on you instead," he said, looking her deeply in the eyes. "I was the one who cleaned and bandaged it for you out." He took her arm and pressed his lips to the scar, not looking away from her eyes, silently relishing in the fact that she didn't pull away from the contact.

"Anyone could make up a story about a scar," she said quietly, still looking down at him.

Her words said she wasn't convinced, but he knew her tells and mannerisms. He had her right where he wanted, if he could keep going. "I know you prefer to sleep on your left side," he said, curling an arm around her waist. "You preferred to sleep facing me. So you could listen to my heart beat under my chest, you said."

"That doesn't..." He could hear her breath hitch just the slightest bit. "That didn't stop you from betraying me last time though, did it?" She asked quietly. It wasn't a challenge; her eyes were wide and sincere. Almost hurt. That small, veiled vulnerability. Only ever reserved for him, even still.

He stood to meet her gaze, wrapping one arm around her middle fully and cupping her face with the other as he brought it to his. "It didn't stop me from losing you," he said, his breath ghosting over her lips, "a fate I'm very keen to avoid you facing again."

"Unless it's at your hand, apparently," she replied, leaning into the embrace all the same. Just as touchstarved as always, it seemed. Just as eager as he felt.

"My hands can be much more gentle, love," he said, leaning against her forehead, "if you'd let them."

She kept her eyes locked on his, barely a hair's breadth from his face, searching his demeanor. She gave him a small smirk, and his own heart was the one doing little flips this time. "We'll see," she said playfully, before extricating herself from his grip in one fluid movement and walking towards the door. "Do tell your other friends to play nicer, in the mean time," she called over her shoulder as she left.

He smiled after her, long after she had left the room. She might not remember him, no. But that was certainly still his same Mae.

[artemistartarus]

Still not over this, Elon Musk and Rupert Murdoch are using their money to spit on her grave.

Full article here:

“An award named after Ruth Bader Ginsburg has gone to a slate of accomplished women since it was launched four years ago to honor the legacy of the late Supreme Court justice known for championing women's rights and liberal causes. This year is different.

Next month, the Dwight D. Opperman Foundation will present the Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg Leadership Award to four men and Martha Stewart. Among the winners are two convicted felons, the founder of right-wing Fox News, and Elon Musk.

Stewart, Musk, Rupert Murdoch, Michael Milken and Sylvester Stallone are the five "iconic" and "exceptional" recipients of the 2024 RBG Leadership Award, the organizing foundation said in a news release on Wednesday.

Ginsburg's family is blasting the foundation's selection of this year's recipients, saying the decision is an "affront" to the memory of the late justice and her values.

"This year, the Opperman Foundation has strayed far from the original mission of the award and from what Justice Ginsburg stood for," Jane Ginsburg, daughter of the Supreme Court justice, said in a statement.

The award was conceived in 2019 to recognize "an extraordinary woman who has exercised a positive and notable influence on society and served as an exemplary role model in both principles and practice." Past recipients have included Queen Elizabeth II and Barbra Streisand.

This year, "woman" has been dropped from the name of the award, and the criteria has expanded to include "trailblazing men and women" who "have demonstrated extraordinary accomplishments in their chosen fields," the Opperman Foundation said.

"Justice Ginsburg fought not only for women but for everyone," the foundation's chair, Julie Opperman, said in the news release. "Going forward, to embrace the fullness of Justice Ginsburg's legacy, we honor both women and men who have changed the world by doing what they do best."

The Ginsburg family says it was not informed of the changes in name or criteria for the award. It is pressing Opperman to remove Justice Ginsburg's name from the award "unless the original award criteria, as accepted by Justice Ginsburg, are restored," as Trevor Morrison, Ginsburg's former law clerk, wrote in a letter to the foundation's chair that spoke on behalf of the Ginsburg family.

Until then, Morrison said, the justice's family wishes "to make clear that they do not support using their mother's name to celebrate this slate of awardees, and that the Justice's family has no affiliation with and does not endorse this award."

"Each of this year's awardees has achieved notable success in their careers, and each may well deserve accolades of one form or another. But the decision to bestow upon them the particular honor of the RBG Award is a striking betrayal of the Justice's legacy," he wrote.

Most of the awardees' track records bear controversies and scandals rivaling their achievements.

Milken, an investment banker famous for creating the junk bond market, was arrested in the late '80s for securities fraud. After he was released from prison, he built a reputation on his philanthropy. President Trump pardoned Milken in 2020.

Stewart, who built a multimillion-dollar empire as a homemaking maven, served prison time for lying to investigators about a fishy stock sale.

Murdoch, the retired mogul who leveraged his media outlets to embrace right-wing leaders and views, allowed Fox News stars to promote baseless claims of fraud in the 2020 presidential election.

Musk, the billionaire owner of SpaceX, has been accused of antisemitism and, since taking over Twitter — now known as X — reportedly allowed pro-Nazi content to proliferate on the platform, prompting companies to pull ad revenue.

Actor Stallone of Rocky fame has faced multiple allegations of sexual assault, all of which he denies and for which he's never been charged.

Stallone escorted Justice Ginsburg to the stage — as the franchise's theme song played — during the award's inaugural ceremony in 2020, as Opperman noted at the time.

At that ceremony, Justice Ginsburg stated her hopes for the award: "By honoring brave, strong and resilient women, we will prompt women and men in ever-increasing numbers to help repair tears in their local communities, the nation and the world, so that the long arc of the moral universe will continue to bend toward justice."

In an email to NPR, RBG's son singled out two recipients in his condemnation of the new criteria.

"... that is quite a step down from the original criteria and, apparently, means people like Murdoch and Musk who are antithetical to everything Mom stood for, qualify," Jim Ginsburg said. "Speaking only for myself, I would say that those who foment hatred and undermine democracy do not stand for the ideals of equality, respect, and engagement my mother strived to advance."

The Opperman Foundation has not yet responded to NPR's request for comment.

Copyright 2024 NPR. To see more, visit NPR.”

[eastgaysian]

curious if u have more thoughts on the 'durge as a metanarrative' thing

i have a vague sense that i saw someone mention this idea in a post or article, thought the idea was super interesting, and have been rolling it around my head ever since. however i don't remember who wrote that or if i just imagined it so if anyone else has seen this pls link me...

so broadly speaking, when it comes to giving players freedom of choice in an rpg, i think the most difficult player behavior for a developer to work with is npc killing. if you let the player kill every npc they run across, that's probably going to fuck up your design in some way, if not create a full softlock. those npcs provide information, serve mechanical purposes as merchants/healers/gatekeepers or openers, give out quests and then powerful or story-significant rewards for those quests, etc, etc. allowing players to kill everyone they meet while making sure that doesn't break the game requires a lot of work put into contingencies that most players won't see. but if you don't let players kill npcs/make certain important npcs unkillable, you limit player freedom and break immersion. todd howard what do you mean i can't kill the guy who introduced me to windhelm by being racist in the middle of the city. what greater narrative purpose does he serve

on the player's side, though, someone who's going around killing the story-essential npcs probably isn't playing the game 'as intended,' which is to say having fun by immersing themselves in the world of the game and making choices based on the character they're roleplaying. someone who's going around killing every npc possible is almost definitely playing against the game, just doing it to see what happens and find out if the game has a breaking point - and they're probably not even really having fun with it, because they're not only cutting themself off from the game's content, but going through the time and labor-intensive slog of killing hundreds of npcs spread across the entirety of the game world.

i think the dark urge as a concept offers some fun potential to play with both the developer and player side of npc killing. it's a fully intended, deliberately designed way of experiencing bg3 that hinges upon you as player and as character being encouraged to murder people, and it gets kicked off by an npc getting killed without your input - an npc that can have a presence throughout the entire game as well as offer you an extremely powerful quest reward. after that, though, every kill is up to the player. sceleritas fel urges you along and promises rewards, but there's one (1) dc 14 check between you and a murderless durge playthrough.

so the dark urge provides a story template where it becomes immersive and in-character for you to kill everyone possible, unlocking new story beats and rewards by killing npcs and losing out on their content, but it's also completely possible to interpret you, the player, as the irresistible dark urge making your in-game character kill as many people as possible for the hell of it. the moment in dak-wai's playthrough that got stuck in my brain forever was when i killed isobel, just to see what would happen (i saved before with the full intent of loading it back up and doing a Good Run), and realized that this hadn't broken their paladin oath. i'm still uncertain if this is an intended aspect of a dark urge playthrough or just a quirk of the flags surrounding isobel's death/kidnapping, but combined with the dialogue options that allow durge to insist that they kill as a result of compulsions against their will, the implications fascinate me.

in a durge playthrough, the game allows you to fully separate the decision you the player made from the decision the character you're playing would have made, and it makes sense in the story. that's cool as hell! i would've loved if larian leaned into this a little more. not necessarily in a way that fully breaks the fourth wall, but more 'evil run' content that is exclusive to a game where you've killed the good guys would add a lot of depth to this idea, as well as more exploration of the extent to which The Urge can be separated from your character, and just straight up more scenes where the player gets to fully choose whether to lean into or resist the urge. in-universe, it's bhaal's fault, but out of universe, that's all You babey. you, the player doing a kill all npcs run for your youtube channel, are the murder god who spawned a child designed to cause as many deaths as possible. don't you think that's neat? i think that's neat

[doctorofmagic]

I saw that one ask about what if strange academy has a sort of Harry Potter thing going on and you put in voodoo magic and shaman,,, aren’t those closed practices? How would that work?

Hello and thanks for dropping an ask!

Just a quick disclaimer that has no relation to the question: I've never been an HP fan, my knowledge was just the basics. But now I really wish to stay away from anything related to that bigot and terf. I couldn't find the post to delete it, sometimes tumblr messes with my search engine. But if anyone has access to it, pls send me the link if possible. I wrote that a long time ago :/

Now, back to the question...

Shamanism and Voodoo are real religions, and so they differ in many aspects. I'm not quite familiar with the former, but I read many articles on Voodoo (especifically the Haitian branch), and how it's similar to brazilian Candomblé Jeje, both being born in Africa and brought to the Americas as consequence of slavery and colonialism. As far as I can tell, Shamanism is often associated with indigenous societies, and is centered around the figure of the shaman, who's able to connect with the spirit world. Meanwhile, Haitian voodoo has a system based on loas (entities/orixás).

Since these two religions are supposed to represent their respective heroes (at least in theory, I don't know how much any of this can be offensive by being adapted into a fictional world), I do believe they're different types of magic. Michael and Elizabeth are of Sarcee origin and use elements of nature in their magic. Jericho is Haitian and his magic is deeply connected to the loas.

Let's just say that Marvel has the potential to conciliate these different cultures and universes. For instance, they finally added more Egyptian mythology to Moon Knight's lore. So, imo, it's perfectly possible for them to co-exist and yet be different in their essence, just like every magic character has their own peculiarities.

PS: I'm not native of neither, so please feel free to correct me in any regard! Always love to learn!

[drthrvn]

i'll be honest with you guys, i'm worried this whole stuation with the missiles killing to people in Przewodów, Poland might impact Polish-Ukrainian relations and not in a positive way.

as long as we trust NATO, Polish and American sources, at this point it's pretty much sure that the missiles were fired from Ukraine. and as i already wrote earlier: no one in Poland is blaiming Ukrainians for that, they were defending themselves and a tragic error might have ocurred. we are blaiming russia cause hadn't they had started the invasion, this just wouldn't have happened.

Polish officials were very careful with what they were presenting to the public, they were asking the media not to share any unconfirmed information. it actually took them few hours to give any statement - at first it seemed that the missiles were russian and later, after

Ukrainian authorities jumped to conclusions immediately, saying that the missiles were 100% russian and there's no way they were Ukrainian - and again, i can't really blame them for that. the problem is that it seems that they might be wrong and yet they aren't admitting it. i see many Poles online annoyed by that, saying that they just should admit it cause it's not like amyone here would blame them, especially since our politicians are constantly underlining how it's russia who is reponsible for all of that. i've even seen some voices that Zelensky wants to "drug us into the war" cause he's hoping that if the missiles were russian, we would request article 5 implementation (others are saying that since this war is so crucial for our region or the entire Europe, we are already part of it, especially since we've been supplying Ukrainians with weapons and helping them in various areas). so yeah, i don't think it's looking good.

i'm not saying i agree with anything with that, i just wanted to express my worries and to present how the situation looks out here so pls Ukrainians don't feel attacked by this post.

[nalyra-dreaming]

It's already been corrected I think but the journalist who wrote the Talamasca article (and who has seen the screeners for ep7 and 8) (apparently) mixed up Teskhamen and Marius as the founders the Talamasca. He also wrote that this piece of lore was from QotD instead of PL but still...🙈🥲

:)))) I mean…. who knows how they’ll change that for the show^^

No but in all seriousness, good that it was/will be corrected (?) (my page still shows that… misinformation. If it is 🤓)

[herrlindemann]

Metal Hammer N°8 - 1997

This time there's peer scolding from two bands who don't like each other that much: Rammstein, the gentlemen of the dark tones, and J.B.O, who see the world through rose-colored glasses. The reason for the quarrel between the two most successful new German rock bands is, of all things, Nicole's lame ballad of dismay, 'Ein Bißchen Frieden' (note: the band used the music from ‘Wollt ihr das Bett in Flammen sehen?’ for their song without Rammstein permission).

Note: Hannes was interviewed at another time than Till and Richard for the article.

Kreator - ‘Leave this work behind’

Hannes: Is that Kreator? This proves my thesis that 80's Metal is coming back. The opening riff reminded me a lot of the NWOBHM phase. I think that's good, but I don't like the use of the samples, it seems somehow artificial. I'm a little bored with the type of singing, but Mille was one of the first to introduce it. That's why he's allowed to.

Richard: Poor you, what you listen to... That stuff is completely over.

Till: That's all justified, it's just not my thing. Not at all. But now to claim that it sucks or something, I find that presumptuous. I just don't like this music.

Mötley Crüe - ‘Brandon’

Hannes: I have no idea who that is. Sounds like a mix between Savatage and Extreme. The strings are very nice, but the song gets lost at times. Not bad, but not really great either. Motley Crue? Oh God! This text is too cheesy for me, this is America.

Richard: Tommy Lee sings there? The one with Pamela! He wrote that song for his son? Really? Songs for children are good. I accept it. Writing a song for a child — that's nice. So why haven't we done this yet? Almost half, but that's coming.

Till (thoughtfully): A beautiful song.

Hammerfall - ‘Hammerfall’

Hannes: That's a German band, isn't it? Anyway, this music started with Helloween. I only like music like this if it's really great. For example Conception. This sounds too much like Running Wild. I like it less. In terms of craftsmanship, you can't complain, professionally.

Richard: Real Metal. (shrugs) Do me the head voice! Manöver or Iron Maiden?

Till: Megadeth or something.

Richard: Such styles of music are so through. I can't do anything with guitars in the traditional sense.

Till: The time is really over.

Emperor - ‘The loss and curse of reverence’

Hannes: Is someone singing? This is utter madness! Stupid Borgir meets Strapping Young Lad or what? Unfortunately the sound is pathetic. I couldn't hear it while driving, it would drive me insane. But this is very interesting, totally wacky. Has Mussorgsky motifs, not very pretty but very interesting.

Richard: But you played some band on tape. (laughs) Emperor? There's some really good stuff out there. I really like Meshuggah.

Till: (hangs his head next to the player): He sings all the time!

Richard: Yes, yes, he sings.

Till: It’s very brutal. Not my thing at all, but definitely very interesting. I really thought it was some kind of noise, but not singing. Weirdly mixed.

Richard: Nice sound collage.

Armageddon Dildos - ‘Open up your eyes’

Hannes: I think that's really good, I would buy it. Is that the Krupps? Armageddon dildos? What a cool band name! Never heard of it, but I like it.

Richard: Krupps? Sings like Jürgen Engler. In any case, you can tell that they made an effort to combine modern songwriting with conventional guitars. Pretty interesting in that respect.

Till: It always bothers me when you're immediately reminded of another band when it comes to things like that. At first I thought it was a Depeche Mode knockoff because of the choirs and sounds. And suddenly there is a Krupps song. I do not know.

Richard: In any case, they make an effort.

Paradise Lost - ‘One Second’

Hannes: I can't hear such sampling strings, worn out and pretty cheap. Harmonies that have already been made thousands of times. Judas Priest recorded that fifteen years ago. Bores me. Who is this? Paradise Lost? This is PL? Rewind again. This is just unreal. Then they are now dead to me. I think they want to get rich. I'm really shocked.

Richard: Sounds like Depeche Mode. A German band? An American? An English one? Yes? Then I don't know them. Paradise Lost. Hm, I once saw them in concert and thought they were so shitty. I left. One of the few concerts where I didn't stay until the end. Was really bad. So posable. Although I don't think this is bad at all. They have changed for the better.

Till: I actually don't like Paradise Lost at all. But I like this song very much. It pretty much suits my taste in music. I tend to listen to darker things, gothic and such.

Richthofen - ‘Ich Mach’ dich tot’

Hannes: Cool sound. directional, right? Full in your face, you could maybe even get something out of it in terms of production technology. I don't want to appear stuffy, but the message in the song is probably not the one that should be conveyed to the young listener. I don't want to offend, but it's kind of like a Rammstein clone.

Till: Richthofen is the name of the band? Aha. And the song is called 'I'll kill you'? Hm. It's like, 'I'm-really-bad-bad'. I really can't say more about it.

Richard: There are quite a few bands going in that direction right now, aren't there?

Rammstein - ‘Du hast’

Hannes: That's Rammstein. In my opinion, this song sounds a lot like Laibach. Business-wise they are probably making the right move, namely becoming more harmless, poppier and more commercial. This will definitely be successful. I think it's a good thing that they've dispensed with this exaggerated Teutonic pathos. I like it, but Herzeleid was even better.

J.B.O - ‘Ein bißchen frieden’

Till: Ah, J.B.O!

Richard: It's okay when musicians copy other bands, but musically I find this really shitty. They can't even keep their spirits up. I don't find it funny at all. Actually, it's outrageous. You should have respect for certain things.

Till: I don't think it's that bad. What really sucks is that they went so hard behind our backs.

Richard: Didn't even put the copyright on the record.

Till: Now it's the work of the lawyers.