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tonicandjins · 2 years

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sh**ting stars

characters: wonwoo + reader word count: 7.8k genre: all fluff :) summary: long story short, sh**ting stars AU note: miss me? :P

please help me see seventeen on december!

***

God, you hate him.

Jeon Wonwoo is, as you like to call it, your karma. Your karma for not taking up a medical course as advised by your parents (seriously though, you did everything you could to dodge reading those biology books stacked up in your older sibling’s room back home, and that includes taking PR as your major—no biology and physiology books for sure, but you got Jeon Wonwoo instead); your karma for tenaciously dreaming about being rich (money, money, and only money are three things that make you happy); and lastly, your karma for trying to sabotage his rising career when you two were in college (it’s a story for another day).

He struts his way to your desk. Bellowing your last name, Jeon Wonwoo enters the vicinity and you start to see red. Even from afar and with sunglasses hiding his mischievous eyes, you just know that he’s here to ruin your day.

“How’s my favorite PR manager?” He starts, and it’s only now that you notice a new piercing on his left ear. You gasp, disappointed but never surprised at this point. Jeon Wonwoo only lives to make your life hard.

“Wonwoo!” You screech. “Didn’t we agree not to change your appearance for your next project? Which part of keep people out of your face did you not understand? Jesus. Seungcheol’s going to kill me.”

Wonwoo gets rid of his sunglasses, throwing the pair on your desk. “Nobody touched my face. It’s just a piercing, Y/N. Don’t be so dramatic.”

“You’re doing a cameo for that international film we were talking about just last week, Won. The character is supposed to appear the complete opposite of your garbage personality: a good boy. Another piercing, really?”

“Hey, good boys can have piercings!” he defends. “You are so judgmental. What do I expect?”

You sigh, defeated. As much as you would like to throw the nearest item within your reach (a stapler) to his face, you have to admit that Jeon Wonwoo’s face is your main source of income. “What brings you here anyway? We don’t need you here until the day after tomorrow to discuss the script and storyline for your new drama.”

Your eyes and attention go back to your screen, reading Wonwoo’s “statement” regarding his new drama one last time before giving Sooyeon, one of the PR associates, a nod—an approval to upload it on the agency’s website.

“Why? I can’t visit my favorite PR manager?” Wonwoo asks, defensive.

“I am your only PR manager.” You scoff, eyes still on the screen. “Come one, Won. What’s going on?”

Wonwoo sighs, makes himself comfortable on the lazy boy on the corner of the room. You turn to look at him; he pouts, eyes pleading. You only know what it means.

“Girls,” you call the associates’ attention. “Go out for lunch today.”

The girls squeal, and ask where you should go. You shake your head, handing them the corporate card instead and letting them know they can get themselves whatever they want as a reward for an exhausting week. They leave in a matter of minutes, but not without bowing to Wonwoo and bidding polite goodbyes to him. You walk them out of the room, locking the door behind you.

“Alright,” you breathe. “They’re gone. Talk.”

“I do not want to be in that drama,” he says.

You are disappointed, but then again, not surprised. Wonwoo was gone for a year to pursue his international film career (successfully if you may add) and had expressed as soon as he came home that he doesn’t want any projects for the next 6 months—at least. Somehow, despite the bubbling hatred towards the star, you feel awful that the agency continued to force projects after projects on him—one commitment after another, one interview after another, one drama after another—and he’s just over it. But at the end of the day, Wonwoo’s hands are tied with a rope called contract.

“I know, Wonwoo,” you reply. “But we’ve already agreed to it. We’ve signed commitments and a press release has been made about it. We can’t just take it back now.”

Wonwoo sighs, tired, and it pinches something in your inside. Working in PR, you believe, somehow made your worry about this devil. It’s a part of the job description after all.

The drama had been the talk of the town. The director and producer for the project were well-known. The story is a remake of one of the best films of the decade called Hometown Cha-Cha-Cha, in which Wonwoo would take the role of Hong Banjang—who you have personal affinity with because of how great the character is in general.

“I’m not doing it,” Wonwoo says, closing his eyes as he leans back to the couch.

“Seungcheol’s going to kill you,” you retort.

“I’m the one filling his bank account. He won’t do anything to harm me. He will kill you,” he spats nonchalantly. “I mean, that’s not going to be a problem for me. Good riddance, if you ask me.”

“Wonwoo.”

He says your name back, with the same tone, same determination.

“Jeon Wonwoo,” you firmly say, standing from your seat and walking towards him. Wonwoo opens his eyes and finds you towering over him. “You have to do it. I’ve already said yes.”

“I’ve already said yes,” he mocks. “You’re literally worse than my parents. I’ve never had someone tell me what to do every day until I met you.”

“And I’ve never had someone make my life a living hell,” you answer. Wonwoo raises an eyebrow, as if he’s asking if you’re being serious. “Come on, Wonwoo.”

Wonwoo bites his lips, looking at you in the eyes.

“No,” he says again, smirking. “No. Never.”

“Please.”

“Oh, she says please now,” he answers. “What’s the deal with this project anyway? Why is Seungcheol so desperate for me to get this role?”

“Two other actors from our agency were cast as well,” you answer truthfully. “You taking the lead role will guarantee attention and fame for those two. Also, their offer per episode is the highest one for you so far. Seungcheol’s hitting two birds with one stone.”

“What’s in it for you, then?” he asks.

“Seungcheol will not kill me,” you answer. “That’s it for me. Come on. Stop being a brat.”

The next thing that Wonwoo does takes you aback. He stands from his seat, towering over you, and walks forward, making you step back—eyes shivering, mouth dry, hands shaking.

“What’s in it for me?” he whispers as soon as you’re trapped between his lean, tall body and your desk. “What’s in it for me, sweetheart?”

“Don’t—okay—don’t, don’t call me that,” you stutter. “Money. You get money.”

Wonwoo shakes his head. “I want you.”

Your knees are shaking at this point. Wonwoo places his hands on the either side of your hips, gripping the table and leaning closer, until your can almost feel his nose against yours.

“What?” you ask, swallowing.

“I’ll take the role—”

“You already did.”

“The two rookies will get the head start they need for their career; I’ll make sure of that. Seungcheol’s wallet gains more weight. You don’t get killed by Seungcheol,” he states. “And I get you. A win-win for everyone.”

Wonwoo’s voice is low, as if anyone else can hear what he’s saying, and you’re about to run out of breath.

You don’t say anything. You might have actually forgotten how to speak at this point.

“Every day, you’re coming with me,” he says—commands. “You’re taking me to and from whichever location this drama takes me.”

“That’s what your road manager is for, Wonwoo,” you finally answer. “That isn’t my scope. It’s not a part of my job description.”

Wonwoo leans closer. At this point, he’s staring at your lips and you’re looking at his. Closer, closer, closer, eyes fluttering, closer, closer—

Wonwoo’s laugh makes you open your eyes.

“Then, no,” he says. “I’m not filming that drama. Goodbye, Y/N.”

And just like that, Jeon Wonwoo leaves.

Seungcheol is most definitely going to kill you.

***

Joshua Hong is charming, to say the least. One could be mistaken whenever Joshua is seen around the area. He could easily pass off as an idol or an actor, if he wasn’t busy working in one of the biggest law firms in Seoul.

His eyebrows are furrowed as he reads the agreement through his laptop. He is sitting right across you as you express your dilemma with him.

“Seungcheol is definitely going to kill you,” he confirms as he finishes the document. “It also says here that Wonwoo is promoting most of his endorsements in this drama, meaning nine businesses are also involved as they have already sent the terms to Seungcheol, to which he had agreed on. You’re not only losing the drama, but you’re also breaching against at least 10 terms related to this project.”

“Joshua,” you plead. “Save me from this.”

“Make Wonwoo do it,” he replied. “Find the reason why he doesn’t want to do it. Give him flowers. Make his coffee. Clean his shoes.”

“Josh, if you’re thinking that I’m going to slave my ass for Jeon Wonwoo, you are,” you stop. “Right. You are right. God, I hate him.”

Joshua laughs, closing his laptop. “Wonwoo likes you.”

You scoff, reaching for the cup of iced americano between you and the lawyer. “Joshua, Wonwoo and I have been in each other’s lives—involuntarily if I may add—for ten years. We’ve shared feelings with each other and him liking me is quite impossible at this point. He hates me; I am disgusted by his entire personality. That’s just how we are.”

The attractive lawyer across you licks his lips, watching you as you drink your cold coffee. “Do you like him?” he inquires.

“Didn’t you hear a word I just said?” you retort. “I would rather die than admit to have any positive feelings towards Jeon Wonwoo.

Joshua nods and slips his laptop back to his bag. “Then it shouldn’t be a problem.”

“What shouldn’t be a problem?”

Joshua smiles and starts to walk towards the door, leaving.

“Josh!” you exclaim. “What shouldn’t be a problem?”

He turns, looking at you with eyes so bright—it’s unreal, his eyes—and beaming. “It shouldn’t be a problem when I take you out for dinner on Friday at seven.”

You feel heat on your cheeks and chest, but you beam at Joshua.

“I’ll see you then.”

You don’t see him on Friday. Something holds you back, and you’re not sure why.

***

“Why?” is Wonwoo’s first word as soon as you answer the phone.

You squint, confused at the question, and also why Wonwoo is calling you at—for a second, you take your phone from your ear to check the time—3 in the fucking morning.

“Wonwoo, do you know what time is it?” you ask, yawning, your back stiff from the position you were in while sleeping. “What are you talking about?”

“The drama,” he sighs, as if you should’ve gotten the question in the first place. “Why do you want me to do the drama so bad?”

“I’ve told you,” you breathe out. “Seungcheol’s going to kill—”

“I know that of all people, you’re not afraid of Seungcheol,” he answers. That is true to some extent. Jeon Wonwoo, having known you and made your life miserable for ten years now, is right.

You sigh, closing your eyes, feeling the sleepiness wash over you again. “Wonwoo. Talk to me at 8 am. That’s when I clock in.”

He says your name. His tone is solemn, curious—pleading, if you may say so yourself.

Giving up, and knowing you can always blame it on the fact that you’re half-asleep later, you answer truthfully: “Hong Banjang is my favorite character from the big screen,” you start. “And you are my favorite actor, despite your asshole nature and your tendency to ruin things for me daily. I would love to see you in a different light for the first time. You’ve always played the roles of CEOs, chaebols, stars, bad boy-with-internal-traumas, and the like. Hong Banjang will be different, Wonwoo. And you will do a fantastic fucking job winning the hearts of every woman in the world.”

Wonwoo mumbles something on the other line. The question is hazy when you hear it. You ask him to say it again. He says never mind and tells you to sleep because you’re ugly enough—a pair of dark under-eyes won’t help. Fuck you is the last thing you say. Wonwoo says it back, laughing before ending the call.

***

Jeon Wonwoo agrees to take the role—as if he had a choice in the first place; you were willing to do anything for him to do it anyway.

The table reading had begun two weeks after your 3 am happenstance with him (which, by the way, you have already forgotten about—or at least, that’s what you have been telling yourself to save your face from embarrassment), and the shooting starts this week.

Wonwoo is getting ready, and you’re waiting for him in his living room after packing all of the things he would need until the end of next week. The location is set in Jeju-do, and you will be joining him as per Wonwoo’s terms to play the role (for you to stay with him while filming—though you were able to negotiate and make him understand that you’re also working for other artists, therefore you would only stay with him for two weeks straight, go back to Seoul for one week, then back to him for another two weeks; this will be the arrangement until he finishes filming the drama). You still have no idea why Wonwoo is being a baby about it and why your presence is required for him to do the film. You reckon it’s because he would eventually get tired of faking kindness with other people, therefore he needs someone who knows his true evil self so that he can still be himself when he’s away from cameras.

Seungkwan, the new manager, ever so bright, carries two of Wonwoo’s bag for you and tells you that he’ll be waiting by the van instead. You nod and thank him, feeling bad that the kid had to endure staying with Wonwoo until, well, until he gives up like so many other managers that have come and gone.

“Wonwoo,” you call out. “Come on. Our flight is in an hour. We’re also expecting paparazzi waiting from the departure area. It’s going to take some time for us to get in.”

As if on cue, Wonwoo comes out of his room, hair still damp from the shower.

You are out of breath for a second. The back of your mind asks what is so mesmerizing, because it’s not like Wonwoo is even naked, but a part of your mind fills in for you. Jeon Wonwoo is an attractive man—that, you can never deny—and if it weren’t for his garbage personality and his tendency to absolutely make everything a living hell, you would admit this to his face.

“What the fuck are you looking at?”

There you go. A reminder that he isn’t all that because he’s attractive. You wish you could hit him square on his face for once, but then again, that face is your source of income. Breathe in, breathe out.

You smile, standing from his couch, “My favorite celebrity’s face, of course!”

Seungcheol had instructed you clearly to keep making Jeon Wonwoo happy until the drama is done. You and Seungcheol know for a fact that if Wonwoo changes his mind about one thing, he wouldn’t think twice to drop it. In this case, it’s the drama. Wonwoo had, time and time again, expressed his disinterest towards this project—which is why Seungcheol wants you to ensure that he doesn’t bail out.

Wonwoo only rolls his eyes at your statement and throws you his jacket. “Wear something warm, stupid.”

It’s only then that you had realized how little clothing you have for someone traveling: a pencil skirt and a blouse paired with heels.

“Who wears a corporate attire when traveling, anyway?” he asks and by habit, picks up your bag from his couch, carrying his own along.

“I’m traveling for work, hence the whole outfit,” you answer in defense and follow him towards the door. Wonwoo mumbles something you can’t really understand.

“Wonwoo, one second please.”

Wonwoo turns to look at you, eyes soft, and—what are you saying?

You shake your thoughts and reach up to fix his damp hair, knowing that he hates seeing pictures of himself with messy hair. Wonwoo’s eyes watch you, and they linger so you pull away from him. He doesn’t say anything and moves on, leaving you to pull yourself together and breathe.

What’s with you today? And yesterday? And even the days before today?

You have been looking at Wonwoo more these days. Sure, you look at him all the time, making sure he doesn’t have any boogers or anything in between his teeth, always checking if he needs a quick visit to his dermatologist after a shoot, or if he needs to put on a sheet mask before going out in public. But these days, you’ve been looking at him for a second too long.

In the last ten years, you have managed to memorize all the details of Wonwoo’s face, but recently you realized how he purses his lips when he’s shy and that his nose scrunches when he’s genuinely laughing at Seungkwan’s jokes—not like the laugh he breathes out during interviews.

You wonder why you’re looking at Wonwoo more than usual, and if this is why you bailed out of that date with Joshua two weeks ago. It gives you shivers thinking about it, but you shake the thought and file it back to the crevices of your mind.

It can’t be, you whisper to yourself.

You can’t have feelings to Jeon Wonwoo.

***

A small fan meeting is held in between shooting the drama as per Wonwoo’s requests.

At first, you had been reluctant, knowing how hectic this will be for him. Everyone in the industry knows how busy drama shootings are, especially when your artist is playing the lead role. In between takes, Wonwoo had to keep his fans updated by going live on his Instagram and he had to promote some brands throughout the whole series, hence there’s a good reason why you refused at first when he asked to hold a fan meeting.

But Wonwoo had been so upset about your rejection of his idea, saying that this could be the only time he could hold a fan meeting in Jeju-do. He had said that every time he would visit Jeju-do, it would only be for a day or two for work, and that many of his fans had been waiting to see him and all they get is a wave from afar. Seungcheol didn’t agree as well—mostly because Wonwoo wants it to be a free fan meeting and there wouldn’t be any profit at all, only expenses—but eventually said yes when Wonwoo contacted one of his brands to sponsor the fan meeting. (Jeon Wonwoo, always one step ahead of everyone.)

Which is why, currently, you and Seungkwan are running around to make sure that no one touches him too boldly or goes closer than they should.

Jeon Wonwoo smiles for the camera, eyes shining, like he’s at his happiest, and greets every fan who comes up to him for a signature. Beads of sweat forms on his forehead, but he wipes it off before anyone (but you, of course; you notice everything) sees it. He smiles, and smiles, and smiles, and—

He’s tired.

You can tell by the way his cheeks are shaking a little after every snap from the cameras. You can tell by the way his eyelids, for half a second, droop and how he keeps blinking hard to moisturize his eyes.

You call Seungkwan’s attention and hand him a small bottle of energy gummies. “Let Wonwoo take one. He’s tired.”

Seungkwan looks at you, confused. “He doesn’t look like he is…”

“Seungkwan,” you sigh. “Please. Just do it.”

The manager nods and quickly goes on stage, behind Wonwoo to subtly make him take one gummy.

Jeon Wonwoo sighs in relief, thanking Seungkwan, before throwing the gummy in his mouth and moving on to the next fan.

Wonwoo turns to look at you for a minute, as the MC asks the audience that it’s now time for question, smiling softly.

He’s saying thank you.

You smile back.

You’re welcome.

***

The leading lady is beautiful.

That, you can admit aloud.

“I’ve seen more beautiful ones,” Wonwoo interrupts as you admire the woman from afar. “You should see women from New York, they’re—”

“Wonwoo hyung!” Seungkwan calls and hands you and the actor a bottle of juice. Four weeks into the project and overall into being Wonwoo’s manager, Seungkwan has learned so much about you and Wonwoo: the food you like and dislike, what you’re allergic to, what you like to drink based on the weather, and to be honest, it’s only when Seungkwan himself had told you how you and Wonwoo are similar when you realized it.

“Are you ready for the kissing scene?”

You freeze, ever so gracefully; you hope Wonwoo doesn’t notice.

You haven’t come to terms with exactly what you feel. See, this is why whatever you’re feeling isn’t supposed to exist. Wonwoo is an actor (Jesus, the way he’s making you feel now all seem real with how good he is in acting), and you’re, well… you’re his PR manager.

First of all, what would Seungcheol say? Isn’t this one of the code of conducts when working for an entertainment agency? Didn’t the contract say in bold, read letters to NEVER HAVE FEELINGS TOWARDS YOUR ARTIST? Maybe it didn’t exactly, but that’s the unsaid rule, right?

You’re not supposed to like Jeon Wonwoo, Asshole Extraordinaire; not even when his eyes are always beaming when you’re talking to him; not even when he randomly quotes a line from his favorite books; not even when he identifies himself as a cat and you couldn’t agree more; not even when he (attempts) secretly makes your life easier; not even when he carries your purse even when it shouldn’t be the other way around; not even when he massages your hands while you’re asleep in the van (Seungkwan had told you); not even when you miss him when you’re apart from each other.

Not even when it makes your heart ache when he starts the scene with his leading lady, him leaning in for a kiss, his lips so close—no.

You’re not going to watch it.

You pretend to call someone important when in reality, you just want to get rid of the heavy feeling in your chest.

It doesn’t go away.

***

Jeon Wonwoo doesn’t hate you, okay?

He’s just, well, he was confused at first.

Wonwoo didn’t understand why he needed your attention during study sessions when you were in college. He didn’t quite get why he kept on looking forward to your feedback when he auditioned for his first role, not when you were barely a friend with how you and him bicker most of the time if not always. He’s uncertain why every time he wins an award, whether it’s from a small recognition or as big as a daesang, your face is the first one he finds in the midst of a huge crowd. It’s unclear to him why, even long before becoming his PR manager, you’re the first person he looks for when he needed comfort. He has a unique way of showing it, sure, but Jeon Wonwoo finds comfort in your insults and harsh words.

In the beginning, he was certain that he would never want to lose against you. He was, to say the least, intimidated by how much of a strong competition you were back in college, despite majoring in two entirely different programs; him in performing arts and you in public relation. You had been the talk of town as soon as you transferred to his university. Jeon Wonwoo was the king of Korea National University of Arts until you came along, your head held high as you were known as the top student from the college you came from. You hadn’t been studying acting like most students, but you studied about everything else apart from acting—playwright, directing, stage design, until you decided you wanted to be in marketing and PR. Always in the background, as Wonwoo says in his mind.

He started being confused about… how he feels towards you (let him put it that way, okay? He isn’t as good in words as many people may think) when you and him were apart for a year.

Seungcheol had decided that it was time for Wonwoo to venture the bigger screen: Hollywood.

Jeon Wonwoo had been scared, to say the least, and nothing else mortified him than going big but coming home as a flop. He didn’t want to despite the deals that he was getting. Seungcheol and the team from the higher ups were forcing him, calling him day and night to say yes. The calls and pleading and offers from Seungcheol and brands and television stations were giving him anxiety. He didn’t want it. (Perhaps he did, but he didn’t want the baggage that came with Hollywood. Besides, if he were to go to Hollywood, he wouldn’t have an excuse to take you with him because another PR team would have to handle him overseas.)

But you, oh God, you had held his hand.

Wonwoo remembers how his hand trembled at the thought of moving to California for an entire year, per the contract handed to him, and how he had asked Seungcheol and everyone else to leave before he signs anything. Except you, of course, always except for you.

You had stayed inside the meeting room with him, silent for a few minutes, until you reached out to hold his trembling, sweaty hands.

“Wonwoo,” you had softly whispered. “It’s alright if you don’t want to do it,” you had said.

“But,” he stuttered. “This is a good thing, right? This is good for me, right?”

You had smiled softly, shaking your head, disagreeing. “It’s a good opportunity, yes. But you decide whether it’s good for you or no. What do you think?”

Your voice had helped him calm down, breathing in and out. “I will be able to learn a lot of things,” he had started. “Working with new directors. Learning the language. Seeing new places and new people. It’s good.”

“But?” you had offered, knowing well that he had a lot of things to say.

“For the same reason. It’s out of my comfort zone,” he had answered. “Working with new directors who speak a different language and who probably has different expectations compared to the ones I’ve worked with. Learning the language, which by the way, both of us know I am shit at. Seeing new places and new people, which means I can get lost and get killed. It’s bad.”

Wonwoo remembers how softly you had laugh, not to embarrass him or invalidate how he felt, but to lighten up the mood. Your hands had held his tighter, your fingers drawing circles on the back of his hands.

“Jeon Wonwoo,” you had whispered; Wonwoo had thought it’s intimate, how you and him were whispering to each other even when there was no one else to hear. “Jeon Wonwoo, you’re a star, and you are meant for great things. Have you seen the way people gravitate towards you? How we continue to spin around you because of how talented and charming and kind you are?”

We, Wonwoo had noted. It means you gravitate towards him as well.

“The directors will love you. It’s rare to find an actor in Hollywood who respects his job enough to actually get a degree for it,” you had continued, but Wonwoo is still stuck at the fact that you admitted that he’s talented and charming and kind. “The language, well, I can’t say anything about that. You are shit at speaking English.”

Wonwoo had laughed at that, feeling his chest lighten up, hands still warm against yours.

“The places and the people,” you had been smiling, eyes looking at him with so much warmth. “Will be new. But the universe always conspires to make things right and easy for you, doesn’t it? You have seen how it worked wonders for you, all because you deserve it. All because you deserve this.”

The melody of your voice was sweet, almost making him melt. And you had said these words over and over, until Wonwoo had it engraved in his mind. You deserve this. You can do it. You will make it big in Hollywood.

Wonwoo had wanted to kiss the breath out of your lungs that day. But he didn’t.

Instead, he had signed the contract, and three weeks later, he was in a flight to LA to work for another dream.

Wonwoo remembers how frustrated he was when you hadn’t called as soon as he landed, even worse when he didn’t see a single text a week later. He recalls how many nights he hadn’t been able to sleep, tossing and turning on his bouncy, fancy hotel bed, as he waited for you to call him. He had resented how cold you were, how unwavering you were, how seemingly unaffected you were with the distance.

You had known each other for a good decade, and Wonwoo had thought that he would mean so much more than a colleague at that point. Besides, he didn’t have a lot of friends in the industry (apart from a producer from the same agency named Jihoon, and an idol named Soonyoung), and he thought that you would at least ask him if he had eaten or if he had remembered to take his vitamins like how you did when he was in Seoul.

Wonwoo, not long after, had figured that perhaps you don’t see him as anything more than an artist that you are working for. To say that it had broken his heart would be an understatement.

Hence, Wonwoo had stopped trying to get your attention, had stopped hoping you would call, and had decided that he would just get rid of these feelings in silence.

That is until he came back home and realized he’s doomed.

As soon as he saw your smiling face while waiting at the arrival area on the airport the day he came home, Wonwoo had known that he was a goner.

What’s worse is that Seungcheol wants him back on the job as soon as he landed, handing him projects after projects and Wonwoo just wants to rest. Not from the job—never—but from having to work with you and knowing that he would never get a chance with you. At some point, he even considered asking Seungcheol to get him another PR manager, but that would be risking his career. Despite how cold you were, Wonwoo knew you were the best in your field.

Wonwoo wants out, but you were, Lord Jesus, persistent.

You had done your best to persuade him to accept projects—holding his arms when you’re pleading to get a yes from him, pouting when he says no, following him around until he agrees. The one that made him agree completely was that one happenstance at 3 am, when he knew for sure you were asleep, but he just really wanted to talk to you and ask why you were so interested for him to take the role. Wonwoo had done many roles and had been offered hundreds of which. Wonwoo had said no to quite a few, to which you never had any problem with, that’s why it was natural for him to be curious why this one project was so important to you.

“Wonwoo. Talk to me at 8 am. That’s when I clock in,” you had answered when he asked.

Wonwoo had only said your name, as though he was pleading. He had heard a sigh from your end, until you had said what truly, embarrassingly broke Jeon Wonwoo.

“Hong Banjang is my favorite character from the big screen,” you had said. “And you are my favorite actor,” Wonwoo is truly, evidently doomed. “Despite your asshole nature and your tendency to ruin things for me daily. I would love to see you in a different light for the first time. You’ve always played the roles of CEOs, chaebols, stars, bad boy-with-internal-traumas, and the like. Hong Banjang will be different, Wonwoo. And you will do a fantastic fucking job winning the hearts of every woman in the world.”

Wonwoo’s heart had leapt. “Even yours?” he had whispered, but you didn’t understand.

Never mind was what he had said when you asked him to say it again.

Fuck you was the last thing you had said. It had torn something in him a little, a reminder that you would never really see him the way he sees you, but he had said it back, laughing it off before ending the call.

Among the many confusing happenstances that made Wonwoo’s heart swell and sometimes nervous, there was one very solid moment which he knew was the turning point: the confirmation that Jeon Wonwoo, the most sought-after actor in Asia, is indeed in love with you.

It was when not-good-looking attorney Joshua Hong had visited the agency one afternoon. Part of his job or whatever he does was to visit the agency once a week to touch base with everyone and to ensure that all is well in terms of compliance and regulation. Joshua Hong had been talking to you before he left the meeting room (not that Wonwoo had his ear against the door 3 minutes before the lawyer left in attempts to listen your conversation), and had a stupid smile on his face, which made Wonwoo nervous.

Wonwoo had known for a while, that something had been going on between you and the agency’s lawyer. Seungkwan talks a lot while driving. Wonwoo doesn’t normally listen, but the manager had mentioned once that there were rumors going around about you and Joshua.

He didn’t want to believe it, until Joshua Hong told him that you agreed to have dinner with him on Friday that same week.

Wonwoo would be lying if he had said it didn’t affect him in anyway. By default, Jeon Wonwoo Asshole Extraordinaire had started looking up different PR managers again, but he knew too well that he couldn’t replace you.

Wonwoo remembers how anxious he had been the next couple of days, even worse on that Friday you were supposed to go out with Joshua Hong. He had an interview that day and you were helping him answer the questions.

“Quickly, Wonwoo,” you had said with a sigh. “When was the last time you cried?”

“I never cry,” he had answered confidently.

“Let’s see,” you trailed off. “Was it when you got your first Daesang?”

His first grand prize, right. Wonwoo had recalled how ugly you were crying among the audience when he went up to the stage to receive the award. He was smiling so wide, so happy, even when your tears had left a wet stain on his suit when you hugged him as soon as he got off the stage.

“Ahh, even better, when you passed your first audition?”

Wonwoo’s first audition was surreal. He was up against already known actors from prominent agencies. He had no one else—no group of make-up artists or stylists, no acting coaches, no managers to get him a drink—apart from you. You had waited for him outside, hands trembling as you were just as nervous as him, and hugged him as soon as he came out of the screening room smiling, satisfied with himself. In the same manner, you waited with him in front of your office desk’s computer as the producer announced who got the part. Wonwoo remembers how tight you had hugged him.

“Or maybe we can say it’s when your first Hollywood film trailer was uploaded.”

You had called him that day. Wonwoo didn’t hear much from you apart from reminders to apply sunscreen on his face and when you send him e-mails about upcoming projects he needed to prepare for, so to say that he was surprised to receive a call from you that day would be an understatement. You had switched on your camera. Wonwoo had noticed how you lost some weight on your face but he didn’t say anything. You were talking about an interview he was set to do for a Korean magazine when a notification distracted the two of you: the trailer was out. You and him watched it together; Wonwoo had shared his screen and you watched from Seoul, tears pooling on your eyes.

Wonwoo was smiling as soon as the memory fades from his mind. “Quickly, Wonwoo, please,” you said, tapping his forearm. “The writers need this in half an hour. Which one?”

“It’s just funny,” he had said softly, smiling. He looked at you, wishing you could read what’s on his mind so that he didn’t have to say it, hoping you could see right through his eyes.

“What is funny?” you had replied, eyes not leaving your laptop as you type away. Wonwoo didn’t say anything until you looked up to meet his eyes.

“How all of those times you were with me.” Stay with me, Wonwoo had wanted to say. But you were quick, eyes leaving his and typing away.

You and Wonwoo wrapped up at 8 in the evening, and you asked if he wanted samgyupsal for dinner or if he wanted the gourmet burgers he was talking about earlier in that day. He had opted for the gourmet burgers. You had called the restaurant ahead as you and him were on your way to the place to ensure that there are no paparazzi.

It was only the next day when Wonwoo had realized that you spent almost the entire night with him as he drove you to your apartment (this was a routine, despite you being his PR manager, he always drove you home first), which had only meant that, please help Wonwoo’s trembling heart, you didn’t meet Joshua that night.

There are times when Wonwoo thinks that you might feel the same.

Like the time he didn’t have to say anything to you or anyone for you to know that he was tired during the fan meeting. You were about six meters away, yet you knew exactly what he needed. He liked to think that you were looking at him a second more than you should, and he even asked Seungkwan to observe you to see if he sees any spark in your eyes when you’re with him. Seungkwan tells him you knew him best; he says that you deeply care for him, beyond a PR manager would, and that you would always smile when looking at him when he’s sleeping on the back of the van. Even Seungcheol had told him the same thing: that you were shying away from your feelings because of the obvious circumstances—and that Wonwoo is just as bad.

But then there are instances when Wonwoo confirms that you don’t feel the same.

Like when you constantly remind him the whole trip to Jeju-do that you’re tagging along for work, never for Wonwoo. And now.

He had just finished his kissing scene with Kim Dayoung, his female co-star, and you were nowhere to be found.

He calls Seungkwan and asks for you. Seungkwan says you were in an important call, and Wonwoo pouts.

“More important than me now?” he asks aloud, to which Seungkwan laughs at. Wonwoo playfully hits him.

“Hyung,” Seungkwan calls. “Don’t you think telling her how you feel would make it easier for both of you?”

Wonwoo raises an eyebrow. “You mean easier for me, right?”

Seungkwan smiles. The director calls everyone back to shoot another scene. Wonwoo shakes his head and turns to leave.

“Oh, hyung,” Seungkwan sighs. “You should have seen her face before you and Dayoung-ssi kissed.”

Somehow, that gives Wonwoo a little push.

***

His life isn’t as crazy as people think.

Crazy things do not make sense, and Wonwoo likes to think that his life makes sense.

Sure, the cameras and lights have been bothering him for six years now. As soon as he got his first acting gig, the lights and cameras hadn’t left him. The noise also follows him everywhere—in a club with his friends, in a restaurant with his family, in a park with an actress for a publicity stunt—and that is why he likes staying home most of the time. It’s also surreal how directors and producers are after him, sometimes he can’t believe it himself, but he wouldn’t really describe that as crazy, because to some extent, Wonwoo knows that being sought after is the fruit of his hard work. It is also very odd how things he randomly use or mention get sold out within second; like that one time he was live on Instagram and randomly applied lip balm on his chapped lips, and the next day his team received a thank you e-mail and an offer to endorse from the brand, alongside a screenshot of how their sales went up exactly 412% more than usual. But then again, he wouldn’t really describe that as crazy.

This is crazy. This doesn’t make sense.

You are in his apartment at one in the morning, helping him sort his things to find some valuable things for an auction for a cause. This is crazy because how can you be so beautiful in his clothes?

(This had been something that Seungkwan had forgotten to remind him. There was an auction for children with cancer and he was supposed to send something the next day, but of course, you were there to save the day as always, asking if you can stay the night in his apartment to look for items to sell for auction. You had told him he could just give you a box of things you were willing to sell and you would sort it out for him, ready in the morning. Wonwoo had agreed—too quickly, too obvious—and now here you are, in his clothes because a skirt and a blouse aren’t comfortable to sit on his living’s room floor and rummage through his things.)

“Wonwoo, go sleep please,” you plead. “I can take care of this. I have five items now: a hat, two shirts, a signed magazine, and an old phone case. Five more and I’m done.”

Wonwoo is not sure if it’s the fact that it’s one in the morning or if it’s the sight of you in his clothes that drives him mad and give him courage. In a second, he is suddenly kneeling beside you, taking his things from your hands and dropping it among the mess you had created.

“W-what?” You stutter.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks suddenly. Wonwoo can’t read what exactly you are feeling, but your eyes soften at his touch.

“Wonwoo,” you whisper. “We can’t.”

“Can I?” he asks again. “Please.” A plead.

You and him stare at each other for a long time (fifteen seconds, but Wonwoo felt as though it’s longer than that), and then Wonwoo says it:

“Why do you never see me?” he asks but doesn’t let you answer. “I have been in love with you for a long time. I haven’t been able to express it well, but these days I’ve been trying.”

“Wonwoo—“

“So hard. I’ve been trying to get your attention, and God, Y/N, this is making me really nervous—I might actually be having a panic attack right now.”

“Breathe.”

“Yeah, I’m okay,” he assures. “I have been head over heels for you for God knows how long now. I assume it’s been so long, but I realized only when we were apart. Please, please, please let me kiss you, or else I will combust because I can’t contain this anymore. I can’t pretend anymore.”

“Wonwoo,” you call again, but he continues blabbering. Wonwoo can barely hear you over the beat of his heart thump, thump, thumping.

“Fuck, I even forced you to stay with me during the shooting of the drama with Dayoung, thinking that you would at least be jealous and maybe realize you were in love with me, too. Now that I said that, I feel awful—like an asshole as you would say it, why would I force you to do something you don’t want? Like now, right? I’m pleading, begging you to let me kiss you. Almost as if I’m forcing you. Now, I know you only think of me as a—”

Wonwoo shuts up when he feels your lips against his. He relaxes from his kneeling position and realizes that you are now completely facing him. He feels your hands reach up to his cheeks and your lips pushing softly against his trembling once.

When you pull away, eyes closed, Wonwoo swallows.

“Wonwoo,” you start. “I’ve felt the same for… a long time. But I haven’t come to terms with my own feelings until recently. I’m sorry it me this long; I’m sorry it took us this long.”

Wonwoo breathes, for the first time since the kiss, and holds your face with one hand, your waist to pull you closer with the other.

“Why are you trembling?” you ask.

Wonwoo leans closer. “Because I like you so much.”

Then, he closes the gap between you for the second time, kissing you a bit harder than the first, in hopes of letting you know how much you mean to him. Wonwoo moves, pulls you with him, until you are both sitting comfortably on the floor, your bum on the cold tile and in between his legs, your legs on the either side of his hips, his arms around yours. Your lips are full and soft and wet from his, and Wonwoo licks and kisses and bites and he almost forgets about how nervous he had been about this.

Wonwoo kisses you like a confession. I’m in love with you. Like he’s screaming on top of his lungs how deeply he cares for you and how he wants to be with you, but without using words.

And as you two sat on his floor, giggling in between kisses, Wonwoo starts to think that perhaps the rest of his life had been the crazy part, and this, kissing you, is the only one that ever made sense.

#seventeen au #seventeen scenarios #seventeen fluff #seventeen fic #jeon wonwoo #wonwoo au #wonwoo fic #wonwoo fluff #wonwoo scenario #tonicandjins

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lavnderwonu · 4 months

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seventeen as taylor swift songs! ₊˚⊹♡

author’s note!: okay umm so one thing about me is i am a slightly closeted swiftie. LOL. i’ve loved taylor since like ‘06 what can i say?? and so many of our boys are ts coded so i had to <3 i also have something im working on posting soon but I’m sharing this in the meantime since it was fun to make haha so enjoy! 💌 fair warning: some songs may be a bit angsty-ish maybe breakup vibes??? it’s taylor swift c’mon

choi seungcheol ❀

i can see you (taylor’s version)

august

don’t blame me

yoon jeonghan ❀

style (taylor’s version)

teardrops on my guitar

dear john (taylor’s version)

hong joshua ❀

hey stephen (taylor’s version)

enchanted (taylor’s version)

midnight rain

wen junhi ❀

lover

sparks fly (taylor's version)

all too well (taylor's version)

kwon soonyoung ❀

invisible string

how you get the girl (taylor's version)

the very first night (taylor's version)

jeon wonwoo ❀

paper rings

you belong with me (taylor's version)

ivy

lee jihoon ❀

sweet nothing

is it over now? (taylor's version)

maroon

lee seokmin ❀

i don’t wanna live forever (with zayn)

speak now (taylor’s version)

mirrorball

kim mingyu ❀

i'm only me when i'm with you

the way i loved you (taylor’s version)

cardigan

xu minghao ❀

you are in love (taylor's version)

bejeweled

slut! (taylor's version)

boo seungkwan ❀

cruel summer

karma

out of the woods (taylor's version)

chwe hansol ❀

come back…be here (taylor’s version)

daylight

all of the girls you loved before

lee chan ❀

hits different

fearless (taylor’s version)

willow

#seventeen #seventeen x taylor swift #svt as taylor swift songs #choi seungcheol #yoon jeonghan #hong jisoo #hong joshua #wen junhui #kwon soonyoung #jeon wonwoo #lee jihoon #lee seokmin #kim mingyu #xu minghao #boo seungkwan #chwe hansol #chwe vernon #lee chan

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cherrycola27 · 1 year

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Last Hurrah

Warnings: GUYS this is a heavy fic. I'm serious Minors DNI, 18+. Language, drinking. Mentions of head injury. Trigger Warning! Suicidal thoughts and actions

Pairing Rooster x Reader (Call Sign Juliet)

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

Part 1: In fair Fightertown where we lay our scene

For most people, when their life comes crashing down, they never saw it coming. They are the lucky ones. But for me, the whole thing played out infront of me in a series of scenes straight out a Shakespearean tragedy. How ironic really.

The first act came when watched my fiancée Rooster Bradshaw eject from his plane before it crashed into the side of a mountain.

The second came with the news that he had a head injury.

And the third, the final nail in my coffin, the dagger through the heart, was that when he woke up, he had no memory of who I was or our relationship over the past eighteen months. How very Nicholas Sparks.

All that happened six months and seventeen days ago. And for those six months and seventeen days, I, as well as every other member of the Dagger Squad family had been desperately trying to get him to remember me, to remember us, to remember the love we had, but nothing worked.

About a month ago I realized that there was little chance of Rooster ever remembering who I was, so I started making calls.

Do you know what it's like to have to explain to a baker, a venue owner, a photographer, a wedding coordinator, as well as sixty of you closest friends and family that you had to cancel your wedding because partner doesn't remember who you are? Because I do, and let me tell you, it sucks.

What might be worse is that for the past six months and seventeen days I have spent every night, crying myself to sleep, alone in the bed that we once shared.

For the past half a year I've felt as if I'm watching my life go by in slow motion. The world is moving forward without me. Rooster has gotten better for the most part, but he still doesn't know who I am. It kills me to see him happy, smiling, laughing, living without me.

And every time I see a girl flirt with him, the knife pushes futher into my chest. It isn't fair. I should be happy for him, happy that he is alive. But I'm not. Maybe it's horrible of me to think that way, but it's cruel that he is living carefree and smiling, while I'm a shell of the woman I once was.

Everyone has tried to help, but they know it's useless. Rooster and I are... friends... at best. But how can you be just friends with the person who six months ago promised you forever.

He is the one who almost died, yet I'm the one who did.

I'm not really living anymore, I'm just going through the motions. I get up, go to work, fly my plane, get a drink at the Hard Deck, go home, cry myself to sleep, and do it all again the next day.

It wasn't supposed to go like this. Rooster was the Romeo to my Juliet... a running joke with my call sign after we started dating.

Maybe it's karma for having Juliet as a call sign or maybe God has a sick sense of humor. Either way... I'm starting to think she was right... if you can't have the person you love in your life, is it really worth living?

"Hi there." A male voice snaps me out of my spiral. "You're Juliet right? I'm Dodger. I've seen you here a couple times, and I noticed you're glass is empty. Can I get you another drink?" He asks. I look him over. Dodger, I've seen him a few times. He is a bit younger than me and I probably out rank him. He is bad to look at, but he isn't Rooster. He hasn't been around long enough to know our history, and it's not like I wore your engagement ring anymore.

It felt wrong having a man give you attention, but Rooster got plenty from the girls...

I spent about an hour talking to Dodger. He flirted with me relentlessly, and honestly it felt good to have someone pay me attention, then before I even realized it, I had invited him home.

I made it as far as the couch before I stopped him. It felt wrong to let another man touch me, kiss me, let alone try to fuck me on the very couch Rooster had taken meu many times.

I mentally kicked myself that night after he left. I wasn't doing anything wrong— or was I? Everything seemed so unclear. I hadn't slept with anyone since Rooster's accident, I wondered if he had.

As the days drug on you found yourself slipping away more. You were short, angry, mean, bitter to those around you. You spent your days going through the motions and your nights crying or drinking away the pain.

And then, one Wednesday morning for no reason in particular the perfect plan hit you. That morning, you were asked to come in Friday night for some test flights. And that's when the realization hit you.

You were much happier the rest of the day. Thursday you smiled for the first time in ages, and we Friday came around, you were more than excited to go out.

Everyone commented how you seemed like your old self again.

You had a couple drinks at the Hard Deck but not too many because you did have to fly later that evening. You sang karaoke with Phoenix, danced without a care in the world, and even beat Hangman in a game of darts.

After a while you got hot and decided to step out on the deck for some air. You smiled knowing your friends would have a happy moment to remember you by.

You must have been out there longer than you thought because Jake came to check on you.

"Hey Jules, you okay?" He asked.

"I'm great Jake. You know I've been so lucky to have had you and everyone as friends. Rooster has been too. Make sure you watch out for him for me." You smiled as you hugged him.

"Well, I'm off to do a test flight. Goodbye Jake." You smiled with a tear in your eye.

You said your goodbyes to everyone else, save for Rooster. It hurt too much. Then you made your way to your car. You looked back at the Hard Deck one final time before putting it in gear and driving away.

You were gone for maybe five minutes before the wheels turned in Jake's head. He quickly found Phoenix. "Nat, I know I sound crazy but I think Juliet is going to hurt herself." He told her.

"What do you mean? She was fine when she left." Nat looked confused.

"That's the thing. She was a mess two days ago then all of a sudden she flips. They say that happens a lot when people decide to— and when were on deck she said she was lucky to have had us as friends and she asked me to watch out for Rooster for her. I know I sound crazy but Nat, I'm worried about her... she's supposed to do some test flying tonight... what if she..." Jake trailed off.

"You don't think she would? Do you?" Phoenix asked stunned.

"Phoenix her whole life fell apart. The person she is in love with doesn't know who she is. That's enough go make even the most sane person do something crazy." Jake said.

"Oh my God we have to do something." Phoenix said.

She and Jake quickly gathered everyone and explained the situation. Jake desperately tried to literally smack the memories back into Rooster with no success. Leaving them no other options the crew piled into the Bronco and Coyote's Jeep and raced to the air field.

Juliet took her time with her preflight checks, if it was going to be her last, she wanted to savor it.

Once she deemed everything perfect she placed her helmet on her head and climbed in the cockpit ready for take off.

"Mav you have to stop the training Juliet is going to hurt herself or worse!" Bob screamed into the phone while Jake drove. Phoenix was still trying to explain to Rooster what was going on but he was clueless.

There is no telling how many traffic laws Jake broke as he drove, but he didn't care.

Without warning, he hit a pot whole and a photo fell from the visor into Rooster's lap, and like lightning, every came back to him.

"Jake, where's Juliet, and why are you driving my car?" He asked.

"You know who Juliet is?" Phoenix asked leaning forward.

"Yes why wouldn't I?" Rooster asked. There was a collective sigh of relief, but then panic set in. Phoenix and Bob explained to him what happened and Rooster was in a panic.

Minutes later they pulled into base and jumped from the car, running to range control.

Mav had informed them that he couldn't get ahold of them. It was a race against the clock.

Juliet took a deep breath as she flew, she admired the sunset over the mountain peaks.

She took in the beautiful colors all around her, up here her problems seemed so small. She looked on her dash at the photo of her and Rooster. She grabbed her chain that held her dog tags and her engagement ring. She gripped them tight in her hand as she pulled the nose of her plane into a steep climb. Her goal was to send herself into GLOC so she wouldn't feel any pain.

She ignored the calls of the range control officers telling her to level out. She didn't hear the sounds of her friends bursting in the room yelling for her.

She tried to keep her breath even as she felt the g-forces pressing on her body, and then right before the blackness took over, she heard Rooster's voice calling out to her.

"JULIET!" He screamed over the comms. "Juliet, it's me Rooster, it's Bradley, please come in." He and the other range officers desperately tried to reach her, but there was no response.

The group looked out the tower window to see if the could spot her in the fleeting evening light.

They looked out just in time to see the ball of fire erupt from her plane as it collided with the side of the mountain.

Tag List: @dreamingathighaltitude @shanimallina87 @luckyladycreator2 @mak-32 @katieshook02 @samhapner6 @rosiahills22 @thedroneranger @roosterforme

Let me know if you want to be tagged in any other parts

#top gun maverick #top gun #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw #rooster top gun #lt. bradley bradshaw #top gun rooster #tgm fanfiction #tgm #tgm fic #rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw x reader

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bullet-prooflove · 9 months

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The North Star - Part Twenty Three: Long Term - Terry Bruno x Reader (Final Part)

Welcome to mine and @the-hinky-panda The Bronx universe featuring our favs Terry Bruno & Mike Duarte.

This story takes place several years after ‘Blood Out’. Terry still lives in the Bronx and works in Manhatten SVU.

Following on from @the-hinky-panda story 'The Dog' Mike has retired from the NYPD on medical grounds due to seizures causes by the attack. He has a therapy dog called Bono and lives with @the-hinky-panda character Meredith.

Tagging: @legit9thlunaticwarrior @the-adzukibean @beardedbarba @wooshwastaken @justreblogginfics @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @storiesofsvu @anime-weeb-4-life @witches-unruly-heart @spaghettificationandpretzels @chavez-ashley @kiwiithecrazybird @proceduralpassion @crazy4chickennuggets @callsignartemis @kmc1989

The North Star Series - Part of The Bronx Universe

Part One: Moments (NSFW)

Part Two: Case of the Ex

Part Three: Her Worse Half

Part Four: Always

Part Five: Ask Me Again (NSFW)

Part Six: Degas

Part Seven: The Heist

Part Eight: A Part to Play

Part Nine: Home

Part Ten: Safe Space

Part Eleven: Weak

Part Twelve: Got Your Back

Part Thirteen: Familia

Part Fourteen: Gunplay

Part Fifteen: Friendly Fire

Part Sixteen: Alive (NSFW)

Part Seventeen: Karma

Part Eighteen: Lucky

Part Nineteen: Fucked Up

Part Twenty: Orchard Beach

Part Twenty One: Tuscany

Part Twenty Two: New York

Terry’s unpacking when he finds it, the picture of the two of you in a wooden frame. It’s the one from his desk in the precinct, it’s in the box along with the stress balls you’d gotten him and other bits and pieces that he’d left. He’d asked Fin to send it over after he’d handed in his papers. He sits down as he looks at it, his thumb trailing over your features.

It had been Meredith’s birthday; Duarte had thrown a party in the back yard, and you were wearing that navy blue wrap dress with the daisies on. The one that he had taken off you later that night. He remembers his fingers fumbling with the knot, how you’d tipped your head back and laughed because the two of you had been drinking diet coke all night in case you got a call out. He remembers the way the fabric had fluttered from your body, the way you stood before him wearing nothing but a smile on your face and that compass, your North Star glinting in the lamp light. He’d made love to you that night to the sound of rain pattering against the windows.

It's been over almost two months now, and he still feels the agony acutely. It’s a constant ache in his chest, a wound he carries around with him no matter where he goes. Sometimes he’ll be in the market, and he’ll pick something up, something small that he knows you’ll love, and he has to remind himself that you aren’t in his life anymore, that he can’t show you the trinket in his hand.

He’s thought about calling you, he’s spent nights staring at this phone, his thumb hovering over the button but he never goes through with it. You made your decision, and he made his. He doesn’t want to draw this shit out, he wants you to be happy wherever you are, whatever you’re doing.

He puts the picture down when he hears the knock on his door. He’s expecting more boxes, he’d asked Mike to organise shipping the rest of his stuff. The other man had grumbled but he was proficient, most of it had arrived meticulously wrapped and still in one piece. He had no intention of returning to New York, the thought of it leaves a sour taste in his mouth. He’s given notice on his lease and signed his papers electronically; he has no reason to return to US.

When he opens the door, he’s surprised because never in his wildest dreams does he expect to see you standing there. You look good considering you’ve just come off a nine-hour flight, you’re dressed in leggings and a light grey tunic top, sunglasses on up on the top of your head. He notes your wheelie suitcase propped up alongside of you. It’s not the small one you used last time, it’s bigger and for a second, he allows himself to hope.

“Vacation or long-term stay?” He finds himself asking.

“Long term stay.” You tell him, before gesturing at the villa. “You know if you’ve got the space.”

“Always.” He says with a smile as he opens the door to let you in. “I’ve always got room for you.”

Love Terry Bruno? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

#detective terry bruno #terry bruno #terry bruno fic #terry bruno x you #terry bruno x reader

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ronearoundblindly · 1 year

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'The Stark Legacy' Masterlist

Bucky Barnes x (OFC) Tony Stark's Daughter

Summary: Samantha Morgan Stark wasn't given a chance to be a real Stark after a tragic accident upended her family, but she becomes something so much more in her fight to be accepted by Tony again.

Steven Strange chose a different future, one that affects generations to come more than he could ever predict...

Series Warnings: canon-level violence, injury, self-experimentation, death, discussions of death, temporary child abandonment, age gap for implied romance (approx 30 chapters in), slow burn, glacial slow burn, time travel, Alternate Endgame, angst, angsty fluff, angsty romance, angsty action, more angst with plot, seriously epic tale, so more warnings per chapter. Rated Teen/Mature. 15+, please.

Book One: Reality

Storytime

Funeral

Safety

Christmas

Memory

Memorial

Lecture

Longing

Ghosts

Wedding

Plunge

Book Two: Mind

Waking

Deflection

Rusted

Judgment

Seventeen

Whisky

Test

Delight

Nourish

Under

Failure

Book Three: Power

Cryo

Daybreak

Compound

Capacity

Pigeons

Room

Logic

Furnace

Miss

Link

Strange

Human

Hallows

Team

Cuffs

Book Four: Time

Nine

Benatar

Sense

Garden

Benign

Mirror

Karma

Signal

Holding

Ground

Tables

Vultures

Homecoming

Book Five: Space

Book Six: Soul

[Main Masterlist]

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thedepartmentofdiscoveries · 3 months

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David Bowie employed his artistic endeavours as a means to delve into the depths of his profound interests, among which was his enduring fascination with Buddhism and broader Eastern philosophy. His exploration of these themes became a distinctive thread woven into the rich tapestry of his creative expression.

Bowie was introduced to the power of Buddhism and other Eastern philosophies by his older half-brother, Terry Burns, who had a tremendous impact on how his life and career would turn out. Burns also opened Bowie’s mind up to total creativity with the works of Beat Generation writers such as William S. Burroughs, modern jazz, and even the occult. Many of what would become his artistic hallmarks can be traced back to these formative influences.

In the early years, when Bowie was still trying to find his feet as an artist, his fascination with Buddhism made its way into his work. The first song to contain his interest in religion is ‘Silly Boy Blue’ from 1967’s self-titled debut album. Years later, Bowie would claim that he wrote the song ‘Karma Man’ about the ongoing strife between Tibet, the home of the Dalai Lama, the leader of ‘Yellow Hat’ Tibetan Buddhism, and China, who annexed it in 1951.

Bowie developed his interest in Tibetan Buddhism in 1965. In addition to what his brother showed him, this materialised after reading Nazi SS Sergeant Heinrich Harrer’s 1952 memoir Seven Years in Tibet. It retold his experiences in the country between 1944 and the Chinese annexation.

Speaking to Melody Maker in 1966, Bowie outlined his love for Tibet, stating: “I want to go to Tibet. It’s a fascinating place, y’know. I’d like to take a holiday and have a look inside the monasteries. The Tibetan monks, Lamas, bury themselves inside mountains for weeks and only eat every three days. They’re ridiculous – and it’s said they live for centuries.”

Although Eastern philosophy and Buddhism greatly influenced the counterculture of the 1960s, Bowie was serious in his dedication to the faith, and it would remain for decades after the zeitgeist changed. In 1966, he visited the North London Buddhist Centre, Tibet House, and spoke to one of its teachers, Chime Yong Dong Rinpoche, with whom he would become lifelong friends.

Introducing ‘Silly Boy Blue’ at the Tibet House Benefit in 2001, Bowie explained: “I stumbled into the Buddhist Society in London when I was about seventeen. Sitting in front of me at the desk was a Tibetan lama, and he looked up and he said, ‘Are you looking for me?’ He had a bad grasp of English and, in fact, was saying, ‘Who are you looking for?’ But I needed him to say, ‘You’re looking for me.’ It’s absolutely true!”

Bowie recalled: “So he became my friend and teacher for quite some time. His name is Chime Yong Dong Rinpoche and he now is head of [he was Curator of Ancient Tibetan Manuscripts] at the British Museum in London. This was ’65, ’66. That’s when I met him. Around that time, I wrote this next song… ‘Silly Boy Blue’.”

Bowie also introduced Rinpoche to his friend Tony Visconti, who also became his student. Looking back on their significant first meeting, Lama Chime Tulku Rinpoche told The Telegraph in 2016: “I said, ‘Come in, young man. Why did you come to see me?’ He said, ‘I want to become a monk.’ I asked him, ‘What is your talent?’ And he said music. I said, so then don’t become monk; you do the music. And from that day, that is what he did."

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lucie-newman · 3 months

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@owenryder

This wasn't her first gala. She'd gone before, tagged onto the end of the Newman family portraits in stiff dresses. At seventeen, she'd bribed champagne from the bartender and gotten tipsy off bubbly. Tonight wasn't all that different, though now she was buttoned rather snugly into one of her mother's old gowns. (Tossing up a bit of the hors d'oeuvres in the garden later wasn't out of the question either.) Everything seemed to come back around in Merrock. Karma, families, drama. She was sitting near the bar, snacking on some canape when she noticed Ryder. He was hard to miss, with the crown. "You take a wrong turn," she asked. "This," she waved a hand at his ensemble and smiled, "seems fit for the Met Gala."

#c: ryder #event: royal gala

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fancyfeathers · 4 months

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Society of Protection (Yandere Bungo Stray Dogs x reader x original characters) (normalized yandere au)

Chapter Twenty

Dangerous Dance

Prologue and oc intro

Chapter one

Chapter two

Chapter three

Chapter four

Chapter five

Chapter six

Chapter seven, part one

Chapter seven, part two

Chapter eight

Chapter nine

Chapter ten

Chapter eleven

Chapter twelve

Chapter thirteen

Chapter fourteen

Chapter fifteen

Chapter sixteen

Chapter seventeen

Chapter eighteen

Chapter nineteen

The day of the charity ball has come at last, you had been supplied a dress from Miss Jane’s old closet which she did say was open to you. Emma and the doctor had helped you pick it out along with Emma helping with small alterations to it for you. Now you are walking through the hallway filled with doors to society members apartments, some doors open and people coming in and out, Alexandre needing help tying his tie, Henrik helping Lewis put on his mask, and so on. You had just finished your hair and makeup and were dressed in a long white dressing robe, it felt like something a victorian lady would have worn, the society truly spares no expense. As you neared the end of the hallway you saw the door to Leo’s room wide open, you peaked in and sawLeo sitting on one of the couches, book in hand, across from him sat that boy, Karma, the one Leo and Gaston had saved.

“Leo?” You called out from the hallway, catching the Russian’s attention. He turned to look at you before setting his book down and walking over to you, standing in the doorway. You noticed he wasn’t getting dressed for the ball, just a simple white button up and black pants. “Aren’t you going to get ready?”

“I am afraid not.” He gave a slight laugh with a bit of an awkward smile coming across his face. “I am going to be staying here, I feel rather uncomfortable leaving Karma alone with Fyodor running around the city somewhere.”

“I see.” You glanced over to that young man sitting on the couch, he seemed caught in his own mind. You truly did not know much about Karma besides his name and where he came from, he did not talk much to anyone besides Leo, Gaston, and Dr. Stevenson. “Will he be alright? He seems so scared all the time.”

“He should be in due time. He’s been working with Dr. Stevenson with digesting what happened, both mentally and physically.” Leo paused before shaking his head with a small chuckle under his breath. “But you shouldn’t be worrying about that much at the moment, go get ready. I’ll see you when you return, my dear.”

“Goodbye Leo.” You briskly answered with a thin smile coming onto your face at the nickname. You turned away from the Russian and continued down to Emma’s and William’s apartment to retrieve your dress that Emma had adjusted for you. Like most other doors right now theirs was open, and when you peaked inside you saw Emma helping William tie his tie and Dr. Stevenson sitting on a couch, a cup of tea in hand.

Each of them was dressed absolutely beautifully, Emma dressed in a long red and maroon gown, a corseted bodice with golden details and long sleeves that flowed down to the floor, a halo like crown on her head, and you could only guess that her mask would be just as dramatic. William wore a a blue suit, with frills at the collar and at the end of the sleeves, over it he wore a formal military style jacket, tied over his shoulder with a silver rope that matched the decals on his outfit. Lastly the doctor was dressed in something you would have never expected, a long mermaid style dress, red, with lace that curved up her body that gave the illusion that if something slipped it might reveal something that one may or may not want to see.

“Oh (Name), come in, come in.” The baroness said, waving you in as soon as she noticed you and finished with her husband’s tie. She then looked at William, kissing him on the cheek before shoeing him out. “Now you, out, out, I have to help (Name) get in her dress.”

There was laughter from the couple as you stepped into the apartment and Emma closed the door after William. She grabbed you hand and lead you over to a wooden dressing screen that had your dress hanging from it. The baroness waved you over to it. “Go on.”

You slipped behind the cover, and you undid the tie to your robe, leaving you in your undergarments. You then grabbed the dress, taking it from the hanger and pulling it over your body, it was a long white gown, an outer corset that was for more for show than functions puffy sleeves and a lacy collar. You stepped out once you were clothed, turning so the baroness could lace up the back of the dress. You felt her brush your hair away, her finger grazing your collarbone and neck ever so slightly. You could feel the first pull of lace and her words rang in your head. “Now a woman with a dress is a frightening and powerful thing. You are not a child when you're draped in gold and lace.”

You felt yourself grow slightly embarrassed at her word, not knowing what to say. You felt her hands lean over to take yours and lean you over to the full length mirror that had been set out and you saw yourself. You felt beautiful. You felt important. She was right, a with in a dress is a powerful thing. You could see the Baroness in the mirror behind you, adjusting your hair from where she moved it. “You are such a lovely thing. Oh, where have you been? It's such a shame to bury pearls in the country, so charming.”

You saw the doctor in the mirror behind the two of you, nodding at the noblewoman’s words. You smiled before your hands unfolded and let go of the other and went to to relax at your side as you turned around and looking over your shoulder to get a better look at yourself. You looked like a character from a fairytale book, like a princess.

You hummed with a smile, looking over at the two other woman in the room who were admiring you. “I should finish getting ready, I’ll see you in a while-“

“One last thing.” The doctor said, standing up from where she sat and set her cup of tea on the table. She walked over to you and reached over grabbing you by the waist abruptly. You felt yourself grown flustered as the doctor reached where the corset met the skirt and- pulled out a knife, hidden in the boning of the corset. Now you felt yourself grow embarrassed at your flustering as she slipped it back into the corset. “A hidden compartment, my idea. Given our line of work and what you’ll be doing it may be smart to have this. Now run along now.”

You nodded in your embarrassment state before scurrying out of the apartment and made your way back to your own. On the way you saw Gaston’s door open and you saw him adjusting his mask in the mirror in his front entryway. His outfit was exactly what you would except, something very theatrical, the mask of red death. A red Victorian style suit, along with a long scarlet cape and and a skull mask on his upper face, and unlike his normal hair style or fluff and curls, his hair was slicked back. Without looking at you he spoke, a teasing tone creeping in his voice. “I’m a traditional person, and I refuse to see without your mask, do run along if you’re not wearing it. I will see your full face at midnight.”

You smile before continuing on and you would hear the soft laughter from the composer behind you as you walked off. You return back to your room in Miss Jane’s old apartment and sit down at the dresser and you took the two black cases from Victor and opened them revealing the jewelry he had gotten you all that time ago, a gold necklace with diamonds and opals planted into it, along with it is a matching set of earrings, and lastly a tiara made with the same materials but along with that golden butterfly and jeweled flowers. You took your time placing each item on and admiring yourself, the necklace, the earrings, and then the tiara. Then at last you stood up and took the mask that was resting on the dresser, a mask that covers your upper face, gold and pink stripes, golden lace, and a pink fake flowers on the corner. You took the ribbon and tied it around your head, making sure it was secure before looking yourself over in the mirror before setting out into the hallway, ready for the night to begin.

—————————

You stood off at the edge of the ballroom at the hotel, this may be a business related event but the society certainly knows how to show off. Not a single expense was spared, flowers, long golden ribbons of fabric, and candles, hung all around the room. The hall way filled with music from a small orchestra band, people who actually worked at the Paris Opera House with Gaston. You hand helped yourself to a glass of champagne that was being handed out by the servers all around the room along with small pastries, a preference of many the society members you’ve noticed. Along with all that the guests, you saw so many, some famous, some rich, and other close friends and allies. Some of these faces were recognizable like the friendly and familiar face of Mr. Tonan, or the head of the police department of the city who wore his uniform. Others were not so recognizable, like you couldn’t spot Mr. Tonan’s unsettling assistant nor the Hunting Dogs, but seeing as Jouno snuck into the headquarters of the Society without being noticed he could be anywhere and you wouldn’t notice.

“Lovely, is it not?” You heard a voice speak from beside you, you turn you head to see a masked William, standing at your side. “Emma did a lovely job planning this evening.”

“Yes, it is.” You answered, continuing to look around the room before your eyes landed on the doctor talking to an older bald man and a younger man around your age with black hair and glasses and a beauty mark on his lower face, they clearly are business rather that fitting with the aesthetics of the evening.

“William, who are they?” You asked, pointing over to them with the hand that held your champagne to make it look less noticeable. William glanced over and hummed and his eyes narrowed slightly.

“Those are member of the Special Division for Unusual Powers, Santōka Taneda and Ango Sakaguchi, respectively. They sort of monitor people like us, Armed Detective Agency, and the Port Mafia. They don’t tend to favor us much given our social views.” William answered, his eyes still focused on them. “Victor ticked them off a few months ago during the fog incident apparently so they have been pressing very hard on us these last few months. The doctor likely had them invited to help smooth things over.”

“Do you think it will work?” You question again, looking back over at the group.

“No way in hell, they are searching for any bit of dirt on us right now. A lot of government officials are viewing us a disruption to the “social order” of the city., including them.” William spoke with a scoff and with venom when he said the words “social order”, referring to the normalized behavior of relationships in the world. He grabbed a glass of champagne from a nearby server, offering them a smile and a small thank you. “Personally I think if they could they would hand us over to god knows who. I heard from Gaston that they were relieved when Miss Jane handed herself over to Fitzgerald, shows where their morals lay. They were afraid of Miss Jane, she is a powerful woman, not just with her ability but with her connections.”

“So what I’m hearing is avoid them at all costs?” You asked before taking a sip of your own drink, which William nodded to.

“Exactly, specifically for you that Ango. From what I hear you two have the same if not similar abilities, his just more refined.” William pointed again to the black haired man with the beauty mark. “He’s someone who’s would be able to read you like a book without a thought.”

“So you’re saying he’s better than me.” You said briefly and a looking of non serious panic came on his face.

“No, no, no, I did not say that-“

“Mmm, sounds like you did.”

“(Name)…”

You then scanned over the ballroom again before noticing Gaston talking to a blond man, again not dressed to the occasion, it actually did not seem that he belonged here. He wore orange sunglasses and a long tan coat and a cap covering his head. You didn’t recognize him. “William, and who is that?”

William’s eyes focused on the man again before giving a very simple answer. “Another man we all need to avoid, Yukito Ayatsuji. Him and Miss Jane have a bit of a history.”

“Then why is he here? Uninvited?”

“No I’m guessing the Special Division brought him, so that’s where Gaston comes into play.” William said as he raised his wrist to check the time. “They want to catch us in the act of getting Miss Jane back, so while Gaston talks to him and distracts him, we can just slip away.”

“How much longer till the auction?” You asked, trying to peer over at his watch.

“Two hours, the night is still young.” You heard as William patted your shoulder. “Now I am going to go find my wife, I’ll find you when it’s time.”

You watched William walk off into the crowd to find Emma. Then not a moment later you felt a hand come to rest atop your should where William’s was. You spun around to see the all to familiar face of Jouno of the Hunting Dogs, dressed in his uniform albeit a nicer more formal version.

“Miss Jane, hm?”

“Jouno, please don’t get involved with this.” You asked, doing your best not to make a scene with the Hunting Dog next to you, not to mention all the people in the room. “Nothing we’re doing tonight is technically illegal.”

“That is true, but we’ll see how true that stays.” He said, his face never facing away from yours. “I can only imagine if something goes down hill, having to shoot or stab someone, or if your abilities come into play. You don’t have your gifted business permit yet so that means if you or your friend use your abilities in such a public place and let alone against somebody you’ll completely shatter the society and then you’ll be placed in whatever government custody they choose.”

You felt your heart beat stop at Jouno’s words, but this only lasted a moment before Jouno yelped in pain as he had done in the hospital. You looked over his shoulder and saw the familiar and a tad more welcome face of Tecchou.

“Knock it off, you’re scaring her.” You watched as Tecchou sheath his sword before walking over to you and bowing. “I am so sorry for my co worker’s behavior, ma’am.”

Did Tecchou not recognize you? But then how did Jouno recognize you… then you remembered Jouno’s memory is based on hearing, smell, and touch, not sight. So Tecchou couldn’t recognize you… you could use this.

“It’s alright, sir.” You replied, putting on your best meek tone. “I just got so scared, I had no idea what he was on about.”

You watched as a look through f shock come across Jouno’s face at your clear lie but Tecchou just continued, completely oblivious to the situation.

“I apologize, do enjoy the rest of your evening.” Tecchou replied as you walked off, leaving Jouno who was trying to explain the situation to Tecchou but of course Tecchou does not believe him. Meanwhile you ran off to find your other society members. You mingle with guest and friends, meeting people you would never get to meet without the society. As you are getting a drink from one of the waitstaff you hear…

“Miss (Name).” You turn to see Dr. Stevenson walking over to you, accompanied by that black haired man from earlier, Ango. In your mind your mind rings those words…

“So what I’m hearing is avoid them at all costs?”

So much for avoidance…

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