is it acceptable to dance

Rhythm | Lee Joo Heon | One-Shot

jooheon (monstax) + you (reader)
word count: 7,233
warnings: i have no excuse for this flithy, graphic smut (that includes but is not limited to thigh riding, breath play, mild degradation, spanking, etc) and strong language (some slut shaming) and brief mentions of infidelity
a/n: i was inspired by the new mv and channeled that inspiration into a gang!au, bad boy jooheon sexy time fest and before you say anything yes i know he is a total squish in real life that’s why it’s called fiction :)

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Archie Andrews Imagine

“I Hate Parties”

Summary: Betty and Veronica were always dragging you out to parties, the only thing that makes this one any better is the arrival of the one and only Archie Andrews.

Word count: 3030

a/n: It’s way longer than I thought it was gonna be but what the heck. Sorry if it sucks but I suck so it’s appropriate.

Parties had never really been your thing. Like you liked going out sometimes, and every once in a while you would be in the mood to dance, but after a while it just felt boring. Every time you got ready on Friday nights with Betty and Veronica you would be excited; ‘This time will be different,’ you’d think to yourself. But time after time it would end up the same way with the same house of people dancing to the same music and playing the same game of beer pong. Tonight was no exception.

“Can we leave yet?” you yelled over the booming bass to B and V, trailing behind them.

Veronica turned her head to answer you, “Okay, we literally, and I mean literally, just walked in. You haven’t even had time to get bored yet!” She pushed through the crowd and led the trio to the bar in the corner of the room. “So,” she turned to you and Betty with 3 shot glasses, “shots anyone?”

You rolled your eyes and looked to Betty for a go/no-go. “I’m convinced that you have some sort of radar or sonar or something when it comes to finding alcohol” Betty joked back.

“It’s residual from my days in New York,” she said handing each of you a shot glass. “Gentlemen, to our wives and girlfriends,” she started the usual toast looking at the two of you expectantly. You turned you Betty and completed it simultaneously laughing, “May they never meet” and downed the shot, feeling the vodka burn all the way down your throat. You weren’t a huge fan of alcohol, yet another reason parties weren’t your favorite place, but being drunk was fun sometimes. Since it was the getting drunk that was the annoying part, you generally stuck to vodka. You preferred its nail polish remover taste that could get the job done faster to the slow-working, carbonated urine formally known as beer.

Just then, the music changed to “Cake by the Ocean” by DNCE, a song that was notoriously Betty’s jam. Her eyes widened and she jumped up in down in excitement. “We have to dance!” she squealed pulling your and Veronica’s wrists toward the dance floor.

“I think I’m gonna sit this one out guys,” you explained trying to get out of this inevitable public display of embarrassment.

“What, you don’t dance Chad Danforth?” Veronica teased in a very Veronica-esque way. Betty chimed in, “Because we all know how that ends, Chad dances with Ryan like the whole time”.

“It’s not that I’m too good to dance, it’s just I’m not drunk yet enough to dance”

That must have been an acceptable answer because Betty simply pointed at you and began to back away with Veronica in tow with a “Hey batter batter, hey batter batter, swang,” to which you yelled back over the growing crowd with your hands cupped around your mouth, “I’ve got to just do my thang!”

B and V faded behind an ocean of people and you were alone. Just you and the vodka. Speaking of the vodka…

You turned to the bar and poured yourself another shot and stuck your tongue out at the offensive taste. You poured some coke into a red solo cup and started to walk away then thought better. You turned around and poured some more vodka in with the coke. What? It was gonna be a long night.

You made your way through the room, deliberately avoiding the table with the jungle juice and found a dimly lit corner to lean in.

I wonder where Archie is right now? It’s not like he normally hangs out with us at parties anyway. Since they always happen after football games he usually hangs out with the rest of the team, but you were curious. You would never admit it to anyone, not even Betty or Veronica and especially not to Archie, but you’d had feelings for him for quite some time. There were times when you wanted to tell him about it, he was one of your friends after all, but you truly felt that he didn’t feel the same way. It wasn’t worth the risk.

“You like hanging out in dark corners, loner?”

Speak of the devil and he shall appear. You could identify that voice anywhere: the one and only Archie Andrews.

“You like staring into dark corners, creeper?” you shot back.

Archie chuckled and approached with open arms for a friendly hug. “Hey y/n,”

“Hey Tom Brady, great game.” You pulled out from the hug but stayed standing close to him to be able to hear each other over the loud music.

He smiled, “It wasn’t exactly the Super Bowl, but thank you. So, what are you drinking?” He plucked the plastic cup out of your hand. “This isn’t the jungle juice, is it?” he questioned with a slightly alarmed but mostly joking tone. Reggie’s jungle juice was pretty famous, or more accurately infamous.

“God no,” you shook your head, “It’s just coke.”

“Good. Stay away from the jungle juice.” He took a sip and did a bit of a spit take into a nearby plant overdramatically. He looked at you with a faux-shocked expression. “Just coke, huh y/n?”

“Just coke as in mostly coke. As in there’s slightly more coke than vodka.”

“Alcohol’s illegal for people our age you know,” he warned just before he drank half of the cup’s contents.

You narrowed your eyes and leaned toward him as if trying to get a better look, “Why, you a cop?”

He glanced around, checking that the imaginary coast was clear before he leaned in. “You ever seen 21 Jump Street?”

“Ah,” you nodded.

“Yeah.” He said with a laugh, straightening his back and returned the cup to your hand. You thought his hand had lingered for a second touching yours; you were probably just imagining it. You had to be imagining it, but the moment was over before you could really be sure.

“Uh,” you tried to regain your composure. “Betty and Veronica were in the other room dancing the last time I saw them,” You offered figuring this had to be his destination. You were friends/friendly with him but they were all really close. The only reason you even knew Archie in the first place is because you had become good friends with the girls.

He shrugged his shoulders, “Okay.” He blinked at you and didn’t move. You tried to suppress the smile that was threatening to show itself. Maybe he was here for you. The electronic music blared on and you scanned the room, looking for nothing in particular in an attempt to make yourself busy, or at least make yourself look busy. The house was filled to the brim with a mix of people, some you knew, some you didn’t. People were singing and dancing and yelling and drinking and smoking and—okay, you couldn’t ignore it anymore. Archie was still looking at you! You could feel his eyes on you from the side.

You glanced at him and couldn’t help but let out a nervous laugh. He was just smiling down at you like a fool. “Is… is there something I can do for you Mr. Andrews?”

He smirked, keeping a laugh to himself, “No, it’s just,” he shook his head looking down at his feet. “Nah, never mind.”

“Oh, come on! What? Do I have something on my face? Is my hair messed up?” You ran your fingers through your hair trying to fix any possible issues.

“No, you look great. I was uh,” he looked back up at you. “It was just that you looked really cute.” He shrugged his shoulders and looked off to the rest of the party, the flashing lights washing his face with a blue and red light, hitting his cheekbones in just the right way to leave a shadow in the hollows of his cheeks. It wasn’t until that moment that you really noticed how close he was standing to you. He was at max 6 inches from you; he could lean forward the tiniest bit and kiss you (if he were so inclined). It all felt too good to be true. He had to be drunk or something.

“How many drinks have you had?”

“Just the sip of your ‘mostly coke’. Why?”

For some reason this answer bothered you more than if he had been drunk. The fact that he called you ‘cute’ while being almost completely sober was, as far as you could tell, reason for alarm. “Let’s go find some drinks.” Frankly, you needed another one.

You grabbed him by the wrist so you wouldn’t lose him in the crowd and began to push through the mess of sweaty bodies toward the familiar bar. You would have made it too, if it weren’t for the jungle juice. You were walking past the table with the punch bowl of the “juice” on it, the bar was in sight, when some random drunk guy with a cup full of, you guessed it, Reggie’s famous jungle juice rammed into you, spilling the entire contents of the cup all over your shirt. Your mouth hung open and the people around you all gasped.

Archie pushed between you and the guy, “Hey man, why don’t you watch where you’re going?” There was some real anger in his voice, and you weren’t going to lie, it was pretty hot.

“Well why don’t you mind your own business?” the guy said getting right in Archie’s face. He opened his mouth to respond but before he could get anything out you put your hand on his shoulder from behind him.

“Archie?”

He looked down at you, clenching his jaw. “C’mon Arch, it’s not worth it.”

He looked back up at the guy for a moment then back down at you. The crowd that had gathered around you all waiting in anticipation for Archie’s response.

He nodded his head, “I know where the bathroom is,” the crowd of people returned to their former activities with sounds of general dismay that there hadn’t been a fight. “Let’s go see what the damage is.” He grabbed your hand in his and led you in the opposite direction as the bar, down a hallway, and into a bathroom.

It was pretty dark in the house so you couldn’t really see how badly it had spilled on your shirt yet. Archie closed the door behind you while you felt around on the wall for a light switch. You flipped on the switch and he immediately gasped sharply.

“Is it that bad?” you asked. You couldn’t being yourself to look in the mirror yet.

“No… I mean it’s…” He tried to think of some consolation to give, unsuccessfully. “Yeah, it is that bad.”

You hesitantly turned to face the mirror, squinting enough to delay the inevitable. Your eyes sprung open and you found that yes, it truly was that bad.

“Oh my god.”

“I told you.”

“This shirt ruined! How am I supposed to wear this for the rest of the night?”

“Well, you did say you wanted to find another drink. I guess it found you first,” You looked at him in the mirror and rolled your eyes. “And I did warn you to stay away from the jungle juice” he laughed getting a closer look at the stain.

You turned to him and sighed, “I have to go home. There’s no way I can walk around like this.” You still didn’t like parties, and this was no exception, but you were actually getting to hang out with Archie alone. This was just your luck.

“Take my shirt,” He blurted out, rather loudly.

“Take your shirt? Like the one you’re wearing right now? Arch as much as I’m sure that every girl at this party would love to see you walking around shirtless, neither of us are at that point of drunkenness yet.”

“It’s fine. Even if you’re got my jersey, I’ve still got my letterman,” he countered, already peeling off his jacket and throwing it on the floor. “It’s not like I’ll be completely shirtless.” You thought about this for a moment before hesitantly nodding your head in agreement. You really didn’t want this night to end just yet. Plus, shirtless Archie.

You took off your stained t-shirt and threw it in the trash, no stain remover was powerful enough to work on that jungle juice. You stood awkwardly in just your plain black bra. You definitely had cuter, but you hadn’t planned on anyone, especially not Archie, seeing you shirtless tonight. Archie pulled off his jersey leaving both of you half naked. And let me tell you he was built with a capital B. Just as he was handing you the jersey, the bathroom door flings open. It seems neither of you had remembered to lock it in the chaos of the dark.

Kevin Keller stumbled into the room, clearly at least a little bit intoxicated. It took him a second but when he finally realized what he had walked into, at least what it looked like he had walked into, his eyes widened dramatically taking in the scene. It was understandable. You were sure this looked a lot worse than it really was.

“Oops!” he exclaimed.

“Kevin, it’s really not what it looks like,” you tried to explain to him with your hands out in front of you as if trying to calm a wild animal.

“Don’t even worry about it you guys. Your secret’s safe with me,” he tried to wink at you but the alcohol in his system just turned it into a sloppy blink. This sentiment did nothing to ease your concern. Kevin was not the person people told secrets to. Kevin was the person people told when they wanted the whole town to know something.

Archie tried to stop him too, “No, Kevin man, it’s not like that. Her shirt just-“

“Hey, you don’t have to explain yourselves to me. I always knew Archie - Y/n would happen. Don’t you worry about a thing. My lips are sealed.” He stumbled out of the bathroom and Archie quickly shut the door behind him, locking it this time.

You both stood in an awkward silence for a few seconds, neither of you knowing exactly what to say.

After about 30 seconds you asked already knowing the answer, “He’s definitely going to go tell Betty and Veronica about this, right?”

“I’m sure they already know.”

You nodded your head and took the jersey from his hand. He slung on the jacket and waited for you. You pulled his jersey over your head. It was big on you but not too big. It smelled like Archie. It felt right. He opened the door and you followed him out of the room, only for him to stop abruptly. You ran into him and then peered over his shoulder at what had stopped him. Who else but Cheryl Blossom joined by Josie at her side.

“Well, well, well. What do we have here?” she said in her Cheryl way, her eyes scanning up and down. “The quarterback and the rando hooking up at a party together. How cliché. Doesn’t this feel like a bad 80’s rom-com?”

Josie joined in, “Who’s Molly Ringwald in this situation?”

“I’m like Breakfast Club Molly Ringwald and Y/n’s like Sixteen Candles Molly Ringwald. That makes Archie Jake Ryan!”

Neither of you had the patience to try and explain the situation to her. Archie grabbed your hand pulling you in the other direction down the hallway. “It’s been a pleasure as usual Cheryl,” he yelled behind him.

Over the blaring music, you could just make out her say “Or maybe she’s more Pretty in Pink Molly Ringwald…”

He pulled you through a different part if the house to a patio where a few random couples were making out. They were taking up all the seating and he scratched his head not knowing where to go.

“Why don’t we just sit in the grass?” you suggested. You walked over to a far part of the lawn that was dark but still lit by the moon. The music was muffled and distant, present enough that would could have private conversation, but still muted. He sat down crisscross applesauce style and you followed suit, chuckling to yourself. You both sat with your forearms resting on your knees, leaving only a couple of inches between each other.

“We’re finally alone.” He stated quietly, sounding satisfied. The moon lit up half of his face and his fiery locks glinted as he tilted his head.

“Yeah, that’s why I come to parties. To be alone. Just me and two-hundred of my closest friends.” You breathed sarcastically.

He grinned at your reply. He looked at you for a moment. Just really looked at you. He was really seeing you.

He looked away timidly, “You look good in my jersey you know.”

You raised an eyebrow, “Yeah?” He nodded his head. You considered how to reply. “Well I guess I’m just gonna have to try out for the football team then.”

“Or,” He leaned in even closer, “alternatively,” his lips just centimeters from yours, “you could just…” He pressed his lips to yours, lightly but passionately, like it was something he’d been wanting to do for a long time. His lips were soft and it felt right, he felt right. It only lasted a couple of seconds but it felt like forever, in a good way. He pulled back and all you could both do was grin at each other.

All of a sudden, a mess of loud yelling coming from the house caught both of your attention. “Woo!!!” “Oh yeah!!!” “Get it!!!” “Hashtag Archie-Y/n!!!” Veronica and Betty were hanging out of a window calling out to the two of you. You looked up at the sky in embarrassment and Archie just shook his head at them, laughing. They pumped their fists and chanted “OTP, OTP, OTP…”

Archie stood up and put his hand out to pull you up, “Do you wanna go to Pop’s? Or anywhere that isn’t right here?” “Gladly,” you agreed, “I hate parties.”

Wait For It (M)

Anonymous Requested: Jungkook Royal AU
Pairing: Jungkook | Reader
Genre: Fluff/Smut; Royalty AU 
Word Count: 11,013
Author’s Note: I pretty much took a whole day off from life to work on this, since I start school on Monday and wanted to try and get through as much writing as I can before hell starts.

Summary: As royalty, you were forced to be sent off and married to a prince of the neighboring kingdom to strengthen your country. But when you are betrothed earlier than you expected, you seek comfort in a random stranger until you realize that perhaps fate plays a bigger hand in things than you ever thought possible.

.

For the record, you never asked to be a princess. Not that you think you would ever have had an upper hand in a situation like that in the first place, or that you expected things to be different if you could go back in time to watch your family history unfold. It’s just something that’s short, and simple, and a fleeting thought you ponder about on more than one occasion, which is certainly a lot more times than someone who was actually happy with their lives would think.

Now, it’s not that you’re ungrateful with the life you’ve been gifted with, you’re well aware of the luck you’ve received, because at the end of the day, it’s the kind of lifestyle that guarantees food upon the table. It promises a roof over your house during the night, during the rain or snow, (more than) comfortable clothing to keep you warm throughout the bitter winter. The gold and motivation and rule your family has over the kingdom is nothing to shy away from.

It just, it provokes a lot of… pressure in your system, in your heart and in your mind.

Most of these things sprout from your father, who is probably just as ruthless as he is caring and hard-working and passionate about the land he is expected to rule over with grace and respect and an equal amount of force to make sure the people of the kingdom didn’t take advantage of him. He’s always been a loving father, albeit expecting the most out of you between your two other siblings. As caring or thoughtful or empathetic has he could be, there were often moments in your life when your best was never good enough for him.

You’ve been taught since birth to follow the orders and rules set up by your father because, as so graciously pointed out by the servants the dusk and clean and care for you on more than one occasion, your father always did what he believed would be best for you. So every piano or violin or guitar lesson he ever made you take, those foreign language lessons, classes on discipline and how to look, think, behave like a princess—those were always for your own future benefit.

“Keep your back straight, shoulders back, smile pretty.”

Always cut small pieces of your meal. Take small sips of your drinks. Always remember to wipe your mouth with a napkin.”

“Don’t speak unless spoken to.”

It’s not that you hate being a princess. You just hate having things being done for you, you hate how decisions and that free-will of choice and responsibility has been ever-so-graciously lifted off your shoulders as if these were things you would never have to burden yourself with. You hate not having a voice, your words drowned by the ones of your father or mother. Your existence has constantly been overshadowed by those greater than you could ever hope to be. You hate the role you have to play into society, how you had to spend your days dealing with other people’s problems. Shouldering a kingdom is no laughing matter, there are rules and regulations and decisions that constantly need to be made to ensure the safety and well-being of everyone who live within the borders. Your mere existence is to live for other people.

It’s exhausting.

But in spite of your feelings, you know that changing fate is practically impossible. So you roll with your father’s wishes, because you understand that this is duty you owe to your kingdom. Perhaps at the end of the day, it will truly never really matter what you desire. From the moment you were birth, your entire life story has already been written by you, the quill of ink belonging to your father and mother and every other person who thought they could know you better than you could ever know yourself.

You let yourself take everything in. You visit the nearby villages and listen to everyone’s problems, their hopes and wishes and promise to become stronger and stronger to help them. You take the lessons set up by your father. You keep your back straight, your eyes forward, your mouth shut. You accept the fancy parties and the wine, the dancing and the violins echoing through your ear, speaking only when you are spoken to. It’s torture, but you have to remind yourself that is it your duty, your obligation and your responsibility.

You even let your father tell you that there will come a day when you will be sent off to a predetermined prince in a neighboring kingdom, be married off into a family you don’t know and perhaps will never truly belong to—all for the benefit of your kingdom. You let him tell you this, and you accept it. You give yourself a few years to mentally prepare yourself, expecting your father at the very least to grant you this one wish.

A raised eyebrow. “But the prince could be ready to meet you any day now.”

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My Fake Boyfriend Part 10

Summary: After receiving a very rude letter of your ex on the mail saying that he is going to get married. You see yourself not knowing what to do, you can just let it go or accept the help of your hot neighbor and pretend he is your boyfriend.

Paring: Bucky x Reader

Words: 2960

Warnings: A lot of emotions, a lot of fluffy and a lot of against

@drinkfantasy thank you so much for being my beta.

You and Bucky enter the church hand to hand. As soon as you step in you have a bad feeling. “Doll, relax, I am here for you and it’s only a wedding, it’s not like you are going to war, trust me this is easier.” Bucky says kissing your forehead, he is trying to be funny but his tone is serious.

“How do you always know what I am feeling?” You ask sitting on a bench close to where your family is. “I pay attention to you, doll. You always bit your lip and you run your fingers through your hair when you’re nervous.” He says putting a string of your hair behind your ear.

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7

Dance Gavin Dance’s final 10 year anniversary show with Jonny Craig and Kurt Travis at Dynamo Eindhoven, The Netherlands (26-11-2016). 

LeFou being gay wasn’t treated as a joke!!! He is questioning Gaston pretty much as soon as Maurice turns up talking about the Beast. He literally questions him to his face and then, after Gaston leaves him during the fight, betrays him and even saves Mrs Potts and helps rid the castle of the attackers! And at the end he dances with a man, and he’s happy, guys! He’s not mourning Gaston, he’s accepted into the castle and is happily dancing with a man! And not in a jokey way! And the man wasn’t wearing a dress contrary to popular belief, if he was then it clearly came off because they are both just two men on the dance floor. Yes, LeFou is quite campy but the director and many actors are gay so I’m going to go by the information that they weren’t making him campy in an offensive way but to make him more of a fun loving character!

i should maybe post this when it’s not one o’clock in the morning but i was just thinking about rob mcelhenney, and about his upbringing, and something in this interview struck me:

McElhenney has an absolutely wonderful and fascinating upbringing. He grew up mainly with his dad, but he was also close with his mom, who left the family when he was 7 or 8 “to find herself.” She’s gay, which was not the easiest thing in South Philly. But after three kids, she realized she was living a “lie.” The twist here is that Rob’s mom and dad remained (and still remain) close, even after his mom left and found a lesbian partner. They figured it out. In fact, they remained so close that after his dad divorced a second time, he moved in with his mom and her partner in Jersey for a spell to collect himself.

so rob mcelhenney has had this remarkable lived experience of witnessing his mother come out of the closet after having three children, and proceeding to find herself and fall in love with a woman, and happily, successfully co-parent those children with her ex-husband and her new partner.

and i don’t mean for this to sound glib, and i don’t want to trivialize that experience, but if we think about the story rob mcelhenney is telling right now - that is, the overarching plot of always sunny, the thing to which he has dedicated over a decade of his life - he is writing from the perspective of someone who witnessed his own parent come out in middle age.

so we left off on dennis saying, “i sleep with women, but i’m emotionally involved with mac.” we left off on dennis consigning himself to a life with a woman he doesn’t love in order to parent his child, because he understands that abandoning his son is not an option and he assumes that being with mac and parenting with mac isn’t a possibility. 

the writers took a lot of flak for “reversing” and “ignoring” dennis’s late-season growth - having him, for instance, abruptly walk out on mac after that late-night dance in ptsdee, that teary-eyed acceptance of mac’s valentine’s day gift, that impassioned speech about how he has feelings, big feelings. but when i look at dennis’s arc in light of all this, and in light of rob’s life experiences, it doesn’t seem like a “reversal” as much as an accurate and deeply painful depiction of a closeted or questioning person putting his obligation to his family ahead of his own personal unfolding.

again, this show is being written by a man who witnessed his own mother come out as a lesbian and find lasting, enduring, stable love after three children and a lifetime of denial. it’s very possible - likely, even - that some of this storyline is a tribute to her.

Crush, crush | Reggie Mantle x Reader (Riverdale)

Pairing: Reggie x Reader.

Summary: A little imagine. A small encounter at the school’s library can lead to something more.

CRUSH, CRUSH

Originally posted by ryan-coogler

Can you imagine, being a long time friend with Archie, Betty and Jughead but having a crush on Reggie since day one. You know you and him will never be a thing though, Reggie was the school’s bad boy and his previous girlfriends were all so stunning and gorgeous while you were only you. At this moment, we were at the library studying for an exam that was giving you an hard time. You decided to take a break and look at something other than your books. That’s when you noticed Reggie, in the background, looking at you. At the library? Really? you thought. He was more the kind of guy you spent his free time on the football field. You immediately looked at you books again, but you could feel his gaze on you. Does he even know I exist? He was just probably wondering who was the freak seating in front of him. But then, when you decided to go back to what author was saying, someone cleared their throats next to you. You raised you head and the Reggie Mantle was in front you you, the only separation was your desk for the day.

“Hey, what’s up?” you almost chocked. His voice was so soft but still so masculine. It was almost like he was shy?

“Oh.. hey.. fine, studying I guess…. and you?” You stuttered, and you felt your cheeks reddened.

“Can I seat?” It was almost rhetorical as he sat while asking this question.

“Yeah.. of.. of course.”

There was a moment of silence, one being too shy to talk to the other.

You started panicking, what did he want? You hope he wasn’t going to ask about helping him with his homework. You weren’t in a chick list movie, the nerd and the bad boy wasn’t an actual thing. So, when he started talking again, you were still wondering why he was there.

“ You know.. maybe..” he said. You could help me was the sentence you were ready to hear. “We could go out sometimes.” You almost had a panic attack. Reggie Mantle asked you on a date?

At first you thought I was another round of the playbook, after all, he was one of the player but he accepted. You didn’t notice the fact Reggie was almost dancing on his chair and the giant grin he had on his face. Reggie had finally his ultime girl crush on a date, this girl was you.

Robbed (Lin-Manuel x Reader)

Summary: You admittedly robbed someone of an Oscar. Lin unadmittedly was robbed of an Oscar. But you meet each other so everything turns out okay in the end.

Word Count: 1,400ish (for my first fic? yikes)

Warnings: non-existent knowledge of how the Oscars actually work, a tweet more than 140 characters, shamelessly including a dancing Matt Damon.

A/N: Hi, I’m brand new. My first fic ever. I’m nervous about posting it so any feedback would be greatly appreciated. 

(Yes, I am not over the Oscars yet. In my mind, Lin won and gave an acceptance speech so beautiful I wept.)
___________________________________

You smoothed out your dress as you posed for pictures. There was no wrinkles or folds that needed smoothing - your handler and stylist had made sure of that - but your nerves made you forget what to do with your hands and apparently smoothing the fabric that was draped around your body was the best thing you could come up with. You attempted to turn towards every direction you were being yelled at from, giving them what you hoped to be good shots, but you were too busy overthinking your every move to care about how good you looked in the pictures.

“[Y/N], Center Stage wants an interview.” your handler stepped in, adjusting the bottom of your dress so you could walk without tripping before leading you further down the red carpet. You marveled at the sheer star power you found yourself surrounded by as you walked. 

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