#thank you to the stylist who was in charge of this look

[honeyimissjoo]

thank you stylist

[pickingupmymercedes]

My Venus - Lewis Hamilton (NSFW)

A MET Gala Special

pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Famous!Reader

warnings: fashion world, sexual activities, (p in v), oral sex

Wrap it before you tap it!!!

wordcount: +3K

a/n: I know it's impossible for anyone to wear the original Venus Dior dress, it's a museum piece and it has been for decades, but it's a fic (and my favorite dress, ever) so let's go with it. Y/n is obviously someone really known in the fashion industry, but I didn't specify how, so it's totally up to you to create a back story.

a/n 2: Kind of a request. I was planning something already but anon gave me amazing ideas, thank horny anon!! Also, smut with a plot, what a shocker for me!!

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

EXPLICIT CONTENT UNDER, -18 DO NOT INTERACT.

______________________________________________________________

Y/n toyed with a stray piece of croissant, her gaze flitting from the cityscape outside to Lewis, who was deep in conversation with his stylist.

Sunlight streamed through the expansive windows on the opulent The Mark Hotel’s suite, a golden glow on the remnants of their breakfast. Crumbs danced on the crisp white tablecloth, a playful counterpoint to the elegant silver service glinting in the corner.

Eric, a man perpetually poised on the precipice of tranquility, leaned forward trying the nonchalantly posture as his eyes danced with curiosity. "Come on, Y/n, spill the beans! We’re all vibrating with suppressed curiosity."

Lewis, in is crisp white tee and black joggers, shot Eric a playful glare. "Thanks for that, mate. Subtlety is your strong suit, clearly." He turned to Y/n, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Seriously, love. The MET is in a few hours, you can tell us."

Y/n, who had mastered her poker face over the last five months of keeping that secret, took a delicate sip of her orange juice. "Let's just say," she drawled, her voice smooth as silk, "it has a very famous sister."

Eric groaned dramatically, throwing his hands up in mock defeat. "Oh, delightful. Lewis, bro, you're on your own with this one."

Lewis chuckled, shaking his head fondly. "You're a menace, Y/n." He winked, a shiver running down her spine despite the playful nature of the exchange. But the silence that followed held a different energy, charged with unspoken anticipation.

Lewis leaned closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "It’s something that is going to steal everyone breath away, so maybe it needs a security detail of its own?"

Y/n couldn't help but let a sly smile curve her lips. "Maybe." she teased, leaning in even closer. The scent of his signature cologne, a heady mix of wood and spice, filled her senses. "Maybe it'll have everyone whispering about who dared to wear such a legend."

A low rumble escaped Lewis' chest, a sound that sent a jolt of excitement through her. " An archive, huh?! " He said, his voice husky

Just then, Eric cleared his throat pointedly. "Right, right, all very hush-hush. But remember, Lewis, you have your Burberry fitting this afternoon. We can't have you looking too shabby next to your mystery woman in archives."

Y/n laughed, a light, tinkling sound that filled the room. "Oh, I'm sure Lewis will manage to steal the spotlight anyway."

Lewis winked again, his gaze lingering on her lips. "A competition, isn't it, love?"

Their playful sparring continued through the rest of the lunch, a delicious undercurrent of unspoken attraction running through their every word and glance. As they finished their coffee, the tension in the air thickened, a silent question hanging between them. It was time to leave, to face the world – and the MET Gala – separately.

But Lewis wouldn't let her go without a final flourish. He stood, his gaze holding hers, and offered a hand with a courtly bow. "Until tonight, my fashionista. May the best dresser win."

_______________________________________________________________

The air crackled with anticipation as Y/n stepped out of the limousine, a vision as the cameras flashed like a sudden storm, capturing the first glimpse of her enigmatic beauty. A collective gasp rippled through the crowd, a palpable wave of awe and recognition as Y/n slowly revealed the legendary Venus dress.

Time seemed to slow. Each step on the red carpet was a carefully choreographed performance, the weight of fashion history settling on her body like a luxurious cloak.

The gown, a masterpiece of delicate embroidery, whispered tales of a bygone era, its every fold a testament to the genius of Christian Dior himself. It clung to her like it had been designed for her. A silent promise of a woman both powerful and breathtakingly beautiful.

Y/n held her head high, a serene and honest smile playing on her lips. Yet, beneath the calm exterior, a thrill coursed through her veins. This wasn't just another red carpet.

Lewis, waiting further down the carpet, watched his breath hitch as she came into view. Initially stunned speechless, his jaw dropped in a way that sent the internet into a frenzy.

Here was the woman he knew, the one who matched his every playful jab with witty retorts, transformed into a goddess. He felt a surge of pride, a possessiveness that went beyond what he had felt before with people looking at her.

This was Y/n, his Y/n, stealing the spotlight of the most known fashion event with an audacity as breathtaking as the gown itself.

It was a declaration, a playful rebellion against expectations, most of them that she had created for herself, as she had stablished her style as the non conformative. Still, in The Garden of Time that was the MET, she was bringing one the most known and iconic flowers back to life.

Microphones were being thrusted in her face, a flurry of questions buzzed around her like excited bees, photographers going maniac at the sight of a dress that had been at an exposition for decades months prior being worn.

"Y/n, this is absolutely iconic! How did you manage to borrow this historical piece?" a seasoned entertainment reporter gushed.

Y/n, ever the diplomat, offered a practiced smile. "Let's just say it took a lot of convincing," she replied, the truth a delightful secret she'd keep to herself. "But I believe it was worth the effort."

"Do you feel any pressure wearing such a significant piece of fashion history?" another reporter chimed in.

An understanding glint sparked in Y/n's eyes. "It's a tremendous honour. But pressure is a luxury I don't have time for tonight. It's all about celebrating art, fashion and Christian Dior himself.” Her wit drew laughter and appreciative nods from the crowd, creating a true vision of a woman stunning and intelligent, truly worthy of the Venus.

As Lewis answered his own fielding questions about his Burberry ensemble, he couldn't help but steal glances at her. Her confidence radiated outwards, a magnetic force that drew everyone's attention. He felt a flicker of pride, ever so slightly tinged with a possessiveness that made him want to shout to the world, 'This is my woman.'

"Lewis," a young reporter, eyes wide with admiration, interjected, "What are your thoughts on Y/n's stunning outfit?"

Lewis, ever the charmer, took a playful dig. "Well, let's just say" he drawled, mirroring her earlier cryptic response, "It was worthy of the months of secrecy. She awed everyone as much as she awes me."

As Y/n went up the stairs she found Lewis at the entrance waiting for her, his eyes boring wholes onto her skin. Lewis leaned close, a hand reaching for hers as his voice a huskily murmured "You're incredible, Y/n," his eyes lingering on her "Absolutely breathtaking, love."

Y/n, feeling the warmth of his gaze on her exposed skin, a secret smile played on her lips. There was a thrill in knowing she had surprised him, in seeing the awe and possessiveness flicker in his eyes.

"You know …” she teased, resting her hands on his shoulders as he reached for her waist, a sequence of flashes going off as they showed affection "This was all about making a statement”.

The throng of bodies inside the museum buzzed with an electric energy. As they navigated the crowded halls, Y/n couldn't help but notice the way heads turned their way. Whispers and glances followed them like a second skin.

Lewis, sensing her amusement, leaned in with a smirk. "Enjoying the attention, love?" he teased, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

"Oh, absolutely," Y/n deadpanned, batting her eyelashes playfully. "It's not every day I get to feel like a museum exhibit myself."

Lewis chuckled, a low rumble that sent shivers down her spine. "Well, you are a work of art yourself. But you’re also wearing one."

Suddenly, a whirlwind of hair materialized beside them. Zendaya, ever the fashion icon, flashed a dazzling smile. "Y/n, girl! That dress. How?!”

Before Y/n could reply, Zendaya dragged her towards the main exhibition, where Venus’ sister dress – Junon – was center piece, photographers already positioned for the Dior reunion.

Lewis, hovered nearby, a playful smile on his face. Even with the constant interruptions, his gaze never strayed far from Y/n.

As she managed to escape the scene, Y/n couldn't help but notice Lewis's gaze burning into her. "You know," she said, meeting his stare with a smirk, "I can actually feel your eyes searing holes in my dress, Lewis."

He chuckled, leaning closer. "Can't blame a guy for appreciating a masterpiece, can you?" he countered, his voice a husky murmur.

Just as Y/n leaned in to retort, a gaggle of socialites descended upon them. Throughout the pleasantries, Y/n couldn't ignore the heated glances Lewis kept throwing her way. His gaze lingered on the exposed skin of her shoulders, and a playful glint in his eyes hinted at something more than mere admiration.

Finally, as the speeches began and everyone went to their seats, Lewis leaned in close, pulling her towards his side, his voice a husky whisper in her ear. "They can all look, love." his eyes holding hers. "But you're mine."

The speeches droned on, a monotonous hum that Y/n barely registered. Her focus was solely on Lewis, his hand possessively resting on her hand on her lap. The warmth of his touch sent a jolt of electricity through her, a stark contrast to the cool of the dress against her skin.

As the formalities dragged on, the air crackled with unspoken desire. Every brush of their bodies, every stolen glance, fueled a fire that threatened to consume them.

"This is torture," he breathed, his breath tickling a sensitive spot on her neck. "All I want is..." he trailed off, his eyes dropping suggestively to the exposed skin of her chest.

Y/n raised an eyebrown, a delicious mix of excitement and apprehension in her body language. "Finish that sentence, Lewis" she purred, her voice barely a whisper.

“You, alone." he finished, his voice rough with desire. "Somewhere I don’t need to share."

His hand moved up to her shoulders. His fingers finally grazing the edge of the dress, a silent question hanging in the air. Y/n, emboldened by the setting and the audacity of the dress itself, met his gaze with a playful smile.

"There might be a deserted exhibit around the corner," she said, her voice barely above a breath. "One filled with creatures long extinct."

A wicked grin spread across Lewis's face. "Hm…" he murmured, his eyes gleaming with a dangerous glint. Every glance from him felt like a branding iron, searing the memory of him onto her skin.

When the event finally came to its end, they navigated the crowd, Lewis's possessiveness evident in the way he kept guiding her by the small of her back, a silent declaration. Every so often, his eyes would flick to the exposed skin of her shoulders.

They managed to get by the crowds unusually quickly, ushered greetings and nods a clear sign everyone wanted out. But, as they approached the exit, a familiar face beamed at them. Stella McCartney, a vision of elegance in her silver dress, rushed forward to greet Y/n.

"Y/n, you look absolutely phenomenal!" Stella exclaimed, throwing her arms around Y/n in a warm embrace. "That dress! It's absolutely breathtaking."

Y/n put out a smile. "Thank you, Stella. It was an honor to wear such a piece of history." While Stella gushed about the intricacies of the dress, Lewis tried to exchange a knowing look with Y/n.

The unspoken desire simmering between them was palpable, an energy that crackled in the space between them. Just then, a low chuckle caught Y/n's ear. Gayle King, stood nearby, her eyes twinkling with amusement.

"Lewis" she started, her voice smooth as silk, "I haven't seen you this speechless in years. Y/n, you've absolutely stolen the show."

Lewis, ever the charmer, offered her a playful smile. " You know Y/n, she has a knack for making an entrance."

Gayle, unfazed by his attempt at deflection, turned to Y/n, her gaze sharp and knowing. "You two," she said, linking her arm in Y/n's, "must tell me all about this later. That dress…and the look on Lewis's face… well, that was priceless”

Y/n, her cheeks burning, couldn't help but steal a glance at Lewis. His gaze met hers, a silent conversation passing between them. They both knew Gayle was right, and that everyone had probably also seen his gaze.

As they reached the exit, Gayle pulled Y/n to the side, their voices dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Keep doing whatever you're doing, Y/n" Gayle said, a mischievous glint in her eyes, leaning in even closer "That boy is absolutely smitten.”

Y/n couldn't help but let out a soft laugh "Thanks, Gayle" she whispered back. With a final hug, Gayle retreated to her own car, leaving Y/n and Lewis to get into theirs. The tension between them thick, a charged silence that spoke volumes as Lewis held open the car door for her.

He slid into the car beside her, wasting no time in letting his hand roam up under the dress, reaching her thighs in no time. A devilish grin spreading across his face, leaned in close. "She's right, love" he murmured, his voice husky. "You've got me completely wrapped around your fingers."

The heat of his touch sent a jolt of electricity through her. He caressed the soft skin, his fingers brushing tantalizingly close to her hips. Y/n, unable to contain a shiver, bit her lip. "Lew" she breathed, her voice laced with a playful warning. "Careful now. We're not exactly alone."

He chuckled but continued his exploration, his fingertips brushing against the bare skin just above the hem of her dress. The driver, through the rearview mirror, couldn't help but steal a glance. Y/n, catching a glimpse of his reflection, couldn't help but feel a thrill of exhibitionism mixed with a playful desire to tease Lewis further.

As Lewis's hand continued its ascent, his fingers brushed against a smooth, unexpected surface. He paused, his brow furrowing in confusion. A beat of silence hung in the air before it dawned on him. No underwear.

"Couldn't risk an underwear line ruining this moment" her voice laced with a playful challenge. The audacity of her statement, coupled with the realization, made his breath hitch in his throat, raw desire clouding his eyes.

He pulled his hand back abruptly, a silent promise hanging in the air. The confined space crackling with unspoken desire.

As Y/n stole a glance at him, her heart pounded in her chest. He was trying to control himself, a clear struggle evident in the way he held his breath and clenched his jaw. The bulge in his trousers, who had been previously concealed by his trench coat, was now a very visible sign to his arousal.

"Not long until we get back, Love" Lewis finally managed, his voice husky with frustration. He leaned back in his seat, running a hand through his braids in a frustrated gesture. Y/n, a satisfied smile playing on her lips, let out a low chuckle.

Relief washed over both of them as they pulled into the hotel. A small army materialized around them. Her team, ever-efficient, whisked them towards her suite, their focus solely on getting her out of the Venus dress.

Throughout the undressing, Lewis hovered on the periphery, his eyes laser-focused on Y/n. He watched with an intensity that sent shivers down her spine. Every so often, he would discreetly lick his lips, a gesture that spoke volumes of his pent-up desire.

The process was a delicate ballet – a team of stylists unhooking intricate clasps, another carefully lowering the billowing skirt. Finally, wrapped in a plush towel, Y/n stood alone with Lewis, her team discreetly melting away, a knowing smile playing on their lips.

Lewis crossed the room in two long strides, the heat of anticipation crackling in the air between them. His hand reached out, almost hesitantly, to brush a strand of her now loosened hair. The touch, seemingly casual, sent a jolt of electricity through her, igniting a fire that had been smoldering all evening.

"There you are," he murmured, his voice husky with desire. "Beautiful, captivating, and all mine. Only mine."

His words hung in the air like a promise, the most possessive claim she had ever heard from him. They resonated deep within her, stirring something primal. As her heart pounded in her chest, she couldn’t help but lean into his touch, seeking solace and desire in his embrace.

"All yours," she whispered, her voice thick with longing. Their lips met in a searing kiss, a collision of pent-up desire and raw emotion. In that moment, the playful banter of the night melted away, replaced by a raw hunger that neither could – or wanted – to deny.

Each second ticked by like a whisper of urgency. They had only about twenty minutes before they were due to leave for the after-party. With practiced efficiency born of desire, she threw the towel onto the bed, leaving herself bare before him, a silent invitation hanging in the air.

Lewis's eyes roamed over her, a smirk playing on his lips as she reached down to undress him from his pants. "Don't have time for that, love," he murmured, his hands stopping hers with a swift motion.

With a sudden shift of momentum, he flipped her, his hands tracing over her tummy as he left a trail of kisses along her shoulder. Each kiss sent a shiver of anticipation coursing through her, her breath hitching with every touch of his lips against her skin.

His hands ventured lower with each kiss, until they reached her folds, his touch igniting a primal hunger within her. A low growl escaped his lips as his fingers delved into her depths, drawing out her arousal with a skillful touch that left her trembling with desire.

Feeling the urgency of their fleeting moments, she flipped around, dropping to her knees to palm him through his boxers. The outline of his thick arousal was already prominent, and she freed it eagerly, the velvet hardness filling her hands. With practiced skill, she teased him, eliciting a delicious hiss of pleasure as she took him into her mouth, savoring the taste of him.

But time was slipping away and they both knew it. Five minutes had already slipped by, according to the bedside clock. His hands gripped her chin, pulling her up "I promise later we can take our time, but I need your pussy right now," he breathed, urgency lacing his words with a desperate plea.

With a hungry nod, she positioned herself, elbows resting on the armchair, presenting herself to him with a silent invitation. The tip of his arousal teased her entrance, collecting her slickness before he plunged into her with a single, deep thrust. A sharp cry escaped her lips as he bottomed out, his hands soothing the skin of her hips as he waited for her signal to move.

"Lew" she moaned, her voice a desperate plea for release. His fingers circled her clit, igniting a fire within her as he began to move, each thrust driving her closer to the edge of oblivion.

It didn't take long before she was panting, her body trembling with the force of her climax. Lewis held her close, whispering words of encouragement as she rode the wave of ecstasy, her senses overwhelmed by the intensity of their shared passion.

As she steadied herself, he resumed his frenzied thrusts, his movements becoming more urgent as he neared his own release. With a final, deep thrust, he spilled himself inside her, holding her tightly as their bodies trembled with shared pleasure, the world fading away into a haze of ecstasy.

When he pulled out, she turned into his embrace, cupping his face in her hands as she gazed into his eyes, her heart overflowing with emotion. "They can look all they want, but you're the one here," she declared, pulling him into a passionate kiss, sealing their bond with a promise of devotion and desire.

His hands left her only briefly to clean her up before dressing himself, his movements slow and deliberate as he savored the lingering moments of what had just happened.

As he emerged in his Dior attire, abs on full display, Y/n's eyes sparkled, a playful challenge in her voice. "Guess, you're the one drawing all the attention now," she teased as she admired him.

Lewis chuckled, his gaze lingering on her in the black Dior mini. "You don't look too bad yourself, love," he countered, his voice a low rumble.

He pulled her close, his hand trailing down her back. "But trust me," he murmured, his lips brushing her ear, "tonight, the only eyes I care about are yours."

______________________________________________________________

TAGLIST - @saturnssunflower @xoscar03 @chocolatediplomatdreamerzonk @happy-golden-hour @vicurious28

@0710khj @thecubanator2 @neilakk @bigratbitchsworld @adriswrld

@fearfam69691 @cmleitora

[moralesluvr]

high maintenance gf x earth 42 miles and how he would literally spoil her sm!! and everytime she gets her hair, nails, etc done he always wants to see them #SoCute🤭

take care of my woman ft. miles morales

♡ pairings & aus: earth42!miles morales x black!fem!reader ♡ summary: your boyfriend loves keeping his girl spoiled and happy, and he especially loves to see what he does for you ♡ warnings: one swear! just sum' good ole fluff ♡ a/n: thanks for your request!! we love the softie side of mr morales ♡ got a request? | masterlist ♡

MILES MORALES DEFINITELY SPOILS YOU. Every chance he can get, he's finding reasons to provide for his girl or finding ways and outlets to get you what you want. On this particular day, you were sitting in a hairstylist's chair after Miles caught you scrolling through different hairstyles on your Pinterest feed.

"You want that one, hermosa?" He had asked you earlier when he saw you save a picture of some goddess braids to your hair inspiration board. You didn't even bother to lie and say no, because you knew he could tell if you were lying, so you just nodded and watched as he sent you three hundred dollars to go and get your hair done. As you stood up and got ready to go, he came up to you and pulled his car keys out his pocket, "Take my whip. I'll see you later, okay? Love you."

Grinning at him, you had kissed him and left his house to go to your favorite hairstylist, Monica, who has never done you dirty in the years she's been doing your hair. You were sitting comfortably in her chair, catching up on the latest neighborhood gossip as your phone charged next to her hair station. She heard it buzz and she tapped your shoulder, "Girl, your man is texting you."

"Hand me the phone, please." You requested, the device getting placed into your palm as you felt Monica start on your next braid. You swiped your phone open and clicked on your boyfriend's text.

from [mi novio <3]: hey amor from [mi novio <3]: what yo hair lookin like? lemme see

You giggled at his message, "Yo, Monica, can you take a picture of the back of my head and send it to Miles?"

Monica snorts, "You do know this big 'ole ponytail ain't finish yet, right? I'm jus' starting the third row."

"Just take it." You urged with a laugh. You heard your stylist snap the picture and click send, and within seconds, your boyfriend was texting you back.

from [mi novio <3]: yikes bae from [mi novio <3]: thats the end product? from [mi novio <3]: u need some more $$ ??

to [mi novio <3]: no u idiot, she ain done yet to [mi novio <3]: i think imma get blonde ends whatchu think?

from [mi novio <3]: get 'em, youll look cute in that

to [mi novio <3]: wait crap i dont have enough money

MI NOVIO <3 HAS SENT YOU $100 DOLLARS.

from [mi novio <3]: here u go ma from [mi novio <3]: txt me when u done from [mi novio <3]: i love u

You grinned at your phone and set it down, slumping back in the chair as you waited for Monica to finish your hair up. You couldn't wait to get home to your boyfriend and show him.

After what seemed like an eternity, your braids were finally finished, dipped, and your scalp had been moussed. You swiped your (more like Miles') card and smiled at Monica, who wished you a good day and slipped a free hair oil in your bag. You made your way outside and quickly drove back to your boyfriend's place, excited to show him your new hairstyles.

You unlocked the door to his crib once you arrived. You saw him sitting on the couch, manspreading with his hands behind his head, watching something on TV that you would probably have little to no interest in. You grinned and squealed when you saw him, plopping down next to him, "Look at my hairrrrr!"

He smiled at you, kissing your cheek, "Lookin' so fine, déjame hacer una foto."

You watch as your boyfriend takes out his phone and takes a picture of your hair, saving it to some folder. You peek over with a smile as you see the name,

my woman and the shit i pay for.

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦 ☻ thank you for reading!

𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐑-𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓🕷️: @queenesther996 //@sukunas-slutty-bitch // @c3f21 // @wydney // @rinnyisnothere // @brieryann // @moisttowllet // @Dee-m-cee // @liliummz // @starhrtz

𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ✎: @Dee-m-cee // @euphorichappiness10

[weirdly-specific-but-ok]

the crowleying of your mascot's hair.

Good morning maggots, as I write this it is 11:53 pm on the uh, asmi10kpocalypse/10khaos (both stunning names, whichever of you came up with them please walk on stage and take a goddamn bow) and I have awoken from deep slumber.

The Good News: My hair is dyed! The Bad News: It was torture that I nearly fainted from!

Okay well uh, we know what I'm best at, and it's summaries of chaos. So without further ado (much ado about nothing ahahah everything is a 10k reference now), here we go:

It starts, as it will end, in my room in front of the laptop screen.

Now, as you know, I said I would dye my hair after I scarfed down my lunch. I do that and I also take a nap because fuck yeah, sleep.

I check tumblr one last time, grab my phone without charging it, tell my mum I'm dyeing my hair, and begin the walk to the salon.

On my phone is Arthur, @howmanyholesinswisscheese, who as a cishet deadbeat dad of a lot of us, is the worst person to ask for hair advice, but I do it anyway. I need a reference photo for a haircut.

Arthur helpfully scours the internet and comes up with options that include: Gay, hot history teacher, Joe Locke but something's off about it, same as above but different slightly and I can't place it, top 20 haircuts for crazy people, top 100 teen boy haircuts for teens, mullet slash hot history teacher, Hozier, why does the teen boy have a beard, Aussie AFL player, and Chris Hemsworth.

His words, not mine. Does anyone want to check in on Arthur's history teacher because I am getting very concerned for that man.

So I pick a haircut and land up at the salon. Arthur also tells me my hair is wild and I have needed a haircut for too long. Thanks dad.

The hairdressers are not pleased when I point to the red shade and tell them to bleach and dye my entire hair.

They inform me it will look like shit.

They keep asking if I'm sure. I say, with increasing annoyance, that yes I am.

Arthur is in the phone enabling me, yelling that I need to do it for crowley and "THEY DON'T GET TO TELL YOU WHAT TO DO"

The hairdressers then say they're out of red hair dye, I can either do a magenta or come back the next day.

Arthur tells me to leave and go to another salon.

So I do, and I wind up at the salon right next door (Arthur and I cheer for capitalism), an extremely seedy looking place with a poorly painted stairwell that could well be haunted.

I tell the hairdressers there what I want, and they also argue with me about how it will fade, look like shit, etc etc.

Arthur says "THEY DON'T KNOW WHAT THEY'RE TALKING ABOUT, THEY'RE JUST HAIRDRESSERS"

He tells me that if Crowley can keep the Bentley together through hellfire through sheer will, I can do the same for my hair.

Finally, they huddle in front of a laptop, muttering, and agree to take me on.

I am then also hair-shamed by the stylist, who tells me in no uncertain terms that if I don't cut my hair as soon as it grows out even slightly, it looks "kharab", which is Hindi for... 'substandard, inferior, bad, shoddy, deficient'. Thanks, mate.

The haircut is done. What follows then is on of the top five most excruciatingly painful experiences of my life.

No, I'm serious. The bleaching and dyeing. It was. Fuck.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

JUST THE MEMORY HURTS

OKAY NEXT PART OF THE SAGA I WILL REBLOG THIS IT IS GETTING TOO LONG

IF YOU WANT THE HAIR REVEAL THEN YOU WILL HAVE TO SIT THROUGH THIS LIKE I DID, I'M AFRAID

[prettydoeeyes]

42!Miles x Black!Fem!Y/N ― “They sleepin' on you” part two

ᴅ☆ᴇ'ꜱ ꜱᴀʏ|

Y'all didn't expect this huh (My bad for the 5- week wait pookiess― promise I love y'all) Anyways, part one Obviously there will be a part three in two weeks or less

The teased rain from the night before had eased up, a few sheer droplets appearing here and there, and the cold breeze making her aware of her exposed hair. Immediately after getting her body into comfort, (y/n) furrowed her brows in remembrance of her dream. It was of her and Miles going out and giggling, just like the day before ―just what she did not need―. Bringing her phone over her face, the reflection made her suck her teeth and staple a mental note to book a hair appointment today. As if her missing bonnet wasn't already the most out-of-place thing she needed, something on her phone sent her into a deeper confusion.

11:37 AM ― Oh damn? No, not that, that

Hi Miss Mysterious sleeping already?

It was easy to figure whom the person was, having known who was to call her by that name.

Yes I was 'sleeping already'. It was almost 2 in the morning nigga

I planted my phone face down with absolutely no expectancy of a reply. I mean, why would I expect one? After a quiet 3 minutes my phone pinged with a notification.

Woke up on the wrong side of the bed? miles trust and believe that i don't need you making me miserable right now ouch that hurt ... all that progress yesterday for nun?

I squinted my eyes, subconsciously tapping on the side of my phone still opened on Miles' thread. He did go through all that trial and tribulation. Ah, fuck it

myf, I just don't feel alright aight all good so.. so? dry ass texts ― message deleted i saw that okay and? pick up huh?

My phone started to ring, and with no immediate excuse to mind, I answered.

Miles had a PlayStation controller in his hands, headset tucked underneath his braids but the microphone attachment over his mouth still.

"Hello to you too (y/n)'s wall" "Real funny. Hi Miles"

"Just woke up?" Through the tiny window I could see him pressing back into the reclining gaming chair. It had purple streaks all over it

"hmm, how'd you know?"

Looking into my recent chats, I found the user I was looking for. "You sound like a man" My thumb lingered over the profile picture. Did I hear that jiggaboo right?

"Funny how I sound like one more than you do" I smirked at his new found expression, trying to sight any open bookings my stylist offered between the time-frame of today and Saturday.

"What's that shit to mean" He questioned with a defeated tone, his ever so nonchalant look mixed with petulance.

"Play silly games, win silly prizes" He rolled his eyes before fixing his posture and pressing harder into the controller. Sassy much?

꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱ · Moving away from the phone unnoticed, (y/n) slumped herself to get ready for the 1pm appointment she barely managed to snatch.

Thank God for cancelling clients, she sighed with relief coming outside the bathroom wearing an off-the-shoulder shirt and casual sweats with her pre-washed hair in a loosely tied, top knot bun.

꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱ · Retrieving her charging phone, she furrowed her brows, shaking her head and smiling at the flood of texts.

"you there?" "(y/n)" "(y/n)?" "everything good?" "atleast shake the phone if you're okay"

I sent him a text saying that I was fine, it didn't go through. "Weird" Grabbing a sizeable shoulder bag, I put my purse and card in it, texting my mother my location while closing the front door.

Being distracted placing my keys and phone inside the bag, a big pair of hands held onto my forearms. I screamed, squirming and forcing my way outside the grip before a hand covered my mouth. "Shut u― CHILL. SHH" I looked up at the person before tilting my head with an aloof expression, hitting a smiling Miles on his shoulder "Not funny" "Making me think that you were in danger isn't either―"

"Okay― Wait― How do you know where I live"

"Asked your friend"

Now what if I got kidnapped Would you complain?

He did a once-over at me, raising a brow

"Are you really wearing a mask just to do your hair ?" He shook his head, pointing to the bag I held.

"What―" I raised a hand over my mouth, clutching onto the bag of braids and speed-walking to the salon. "Late?" Because of you― "yea". Before I finished, he grasped onto my hand, dragging me through different lanes and shortcuts, call me crazy but some real kidnapping shit going on

"Calm, I don't plan on taking you away" "I said that out loud?" He chuckled softly at my dumbfounded expression.

Standing infront the lightly tinted, push-and-pull doors, I turned to him.

"How do you know so many― I don't even care― Just― Thank you for getting me here" "No problem" "Can you hold this for me?"

Giving him the bag of hair, I expected him to let go of my hand but nope. Instead he took his time slowly rubbing my thumb in patterns with his as I reached for my phone. We arrived earlier than expected.

"So, see you later?" "Who said I was leaving" He can't be serious "Suit yourself, I can't help if anyone hits on you. A lot of your fan-girls are probably in there" "Would you even be able to? Aren't you like 5"5?" "Not you flexing being a giraffe" "Not you not being able to"

Finally entering the store, we stood awaiting the hairdresser that told us to do so. I pinched Miles' hand with my index and thumb, forcing him to untangle them. He flicked my arm in retaliatilon but before I could do anything, I was embraced by the 20 year old stylist, Keziah. She's one of my close friends, basically an older sister to me, probably how I slipped into my appointment so quick.

We engaged in small talk as she led me over to her station. With my hair down and out, Miles snapped a picture, I posed with a peace sign before pointing at him. "I know, I know. I won't post it" Having no other way of showing gratitude, I made a heart sign, to which he photographed again.

Look who's getting comfortable with someone she swore she'd never talk to

"Y'all together?" "nah, he's my friend" "sure, but believe me, I've heard that from one too many people one too many times. It's all the same ending " "which is?" "the inevitable, falling in lovee"

She made a heart gesture with her fingers to which I playfully rolled my eyes to. In the vanity mirror I peeked Miles' head buried deep in his phone. Looking up, he smiled and waved. Aww

Deciding on knee-length knotless, as expected, the wait took a longg time.

꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱ · Throughout the 8 hours (y/n) couldn't help but soften up at the things Miles did for her.

★ · When her neck hurt, he went out to buy a stuffed toy, earning laughs at the name he picked out for it ―Milo, despite not deciding the gender beforehand. Coincidence or not, it was in her favorite color, easily gaining its spot in her heart as a #1 gift. Maybe it was that or the fact that she got it from Miles, either way she adored it.

★ · For the umpteenth time she had reminded Miles of his freedom to leave, and each time he gave the same answer

"You can leave y'know" "Who said I wanted to"

★ · Halfway through, he fell asleep and seizing the opportunity, she took a picture unbeknownst that the flash was on and waking him. Snatching the plush from her hands as revenge, he laughed when she asked for it back with grabby hands.

"Okay, no. Milo is my child and therefore off-limits, give him back" "As Milo's biological father I believe I also get a say in who's care he's in" "And as Milo's biological mother and current guardian I want him back" "Nahh you'll be fine, sit still"

The teasing had Keziah chucking softly over (y/n)'s head, resulting in her putting on a forced anger expression that, however, quickly dissipated.

"Look, mami's angry Milo" "I hate you" "You love me"

★ · Nearing to the end with two braids left, she asked Miles his opinion on what to add. Miles he would've found it cheesy be it any other girl, but he felt happy, ―lovesick even― by her asking for his opinion on something so minor. 'The small things' he'd call it.

"Curls or no curls?" He thought long and hard before answering, he swore you'd look great with either. "Curls"

Closing her eyes as Keziah wrapped the end of her braids with curlers, she heard a buzz from her bag draped across his lap.

"Could you hand me that please?"

The new notification was a message from Miles. Looking at her phone, (y/n) couldn't help but smile.

"you ok?" "I've been ok for the last 13 times you asked" "I'm just worried about you" "What the fuck is tjag Fyt ??"

Spotting Keziah walking with a kettle in her hands she could only assume that was what he was referring to. Pointing at it, she tilted her head as if to ask:

"You mean that?"

He shook his head in response, watching closely as Keziah dipped her hair into the hot liquid. Slightly wincing in pain, he put Milo in her hold, it didn't go unnoticed by (y/n) how their fingers interlocked over the others before pulling away. Ouhh

꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱ · Ending off the night with the ladies talking briefly, it finally dawned on (y/n) how late it was getting, ―deciding to pay and leave.

On the other side of the door they stood separated; no type of touch between the two. Miles had his hands in his pockets, (y/n) holding tightly onto Milo. Usually, she was so accustomed to the sting of fresh-braids but no sah, this time it didn't work out like that.

Walking, he looked over his shoulder to see me still put, holding onto the back of my head for dear life and rubbing it. Just how long was that water boiling for? "You good?" "No" my answer― even thought against my will― came off somewhat harsh, tiredness and pain driving me agitated. Now standing infront me, he silenced my ever occurring grunts with a hug? Placing his hand over mine, he started to knead away the pressure, the tension within fading. After some time he hoisted my chin with curled fingers. "Better?" I mumbled an incoherent "Mhm" falling back into his hold and wrapping my arms around him loosely.

I don't know why I did that, well, I'm trying to push away a few ideas but even they're too out-of-reach. Looking up at him, he smiled. I returned it, my half-opened eyes closing fully before I let out a yawn. Hurriedly, I slapped a hand over my mouth as he laughed "How 'bout we head back to your place, sounds good?"

I felt drunk with fatigue miserably stumbling over my own two feet. It didn't help that Miles was laughing like a rass hyena helping me up.

"Can't hold a joke?" I tilted my head, lazily crossing my arms "Come here" He dragged me nearer to him with one arm around my neck, hugging me as we walked. I thought our feet would get caught up from us walking so close, the idea made me giggle.

He guided me the way home and when I tell you that déjà vu hit like a bus, believe me. We sounded like those recordings that had people talking as if they're in their own little world with the calming songs in the background. (Hope it makes sense lol) If anything, a video from some vintage camera would make us look like starring actors playing school-kids from a sappy love-sick drama .

Nah, that's too far. It's just a friendly encounter, nothing to go feral about...yeah

-------- Heyy, it's Wednesday

Dropping my head into my palms, I scanned my bed. Usually, as you can tell, I don't wake up this early, but the pain from the braids was too much for my subconscious to bear even after being alleviated. It wasn't anything concerning or harsh on my scalp but― ugh― how do I explain― it's like when there's a mosquito right, it's not doing you anything but it's there and being bat-shit annoying.

I slapped my forehead repeatedly, waking up myself to get ready to conquer day 2/6 of holiday. Trust me, extra sleep would be greatly appreciated, but I think it's time to give my bed a rest. Throwing on cargo shorts and a loose-fitting top, I did my hair in a low bun with a headband after doing any chores I think I'd get penalized for ―nothing atrocious though. Just the regular like cleaning my room and doing my section of the roster―

----

Taking a water for myself, I slid a bottle of juice down to my sibling per her request. Dae, my 14 y/o sister, is almost a mini-me; she reads a lot, plays most games I do, and really really quirky ―in a good way though, fs . But unlike me, she's what you'd call a 'social butterfly' and a pretty one too, genes run strong in the family i guess.

Sitting on the counter-top I flicked through whatever the media had to offer, Dae staring at me with a knowing look and crossed arms. Glances like that would've normally been exchanged from the two of us but this time I had no clue what's going on

"Your boyfriend seems nice" "My who now?" "Y'know, your Prince Naveen with the braids that held you oh so close to his manly chest"

In the middle of her sentence she held overlapping hands over her arms and twirling. She talked in a ludicrous princess voice; to which I cringed heavily at, earning laughs from her.

"He's not my boyfriend" "Soo you're like that with all your male friends?" Which male friends? "NO―"

She started to eye me up and down with a cheeky smile. I looked at her blankly, eyebrows drawing nearer as her smile got wider. She opened her phone, scrolling through something before she brought it up to my hand, urging for me to hold it. It was a thread of messages

"Even ma' likes him" This the intervention or sumn' ? "Wait― Hold on― What?" "I was on a call with her, and not gonna lie. You looked drunk as hell"

Flashbackk ¦

"You can leave me here, my house is right around the corner" Lifting herself off of Miles' body, (y/n) pointed groggily towards a shop. Hissing his teeth, he brought her back to her original position with a soft pull on her arm. "If it's right there we can just walk. What if something happens to you?" Shrugging, she clinged onto his arm for support. Stunned by the sudden affection, it was hard to bite back the smile that cuffed his lips. He felt something dull surge within his body when she didn't smile back, well, when her eyes didn't squeeze together like they usually would.

¦ In the past few hours (y/n) found the walls she built for her own protection falter; the bits left crumbling every time she interacted with him. Miles Morales did something to (y/n), be it the way he looked at her, the things he did, the stupid stuff they talked about; whatever it was, it was serenating. But she knew giving in would could cost her a lot ― much more than her 'ghost' reputation, it was her sanity at stake.

For Miles, all that mattered was the girl tucked underneath his arm, it's hand intertwined with hers― a stance they were sure to grow fond of. Unsure why he was acting the way he was, he found himself wanting to do and be so much more than an 'accomplice' by her. He wanted to watch every late 90's romance-movie while taking down the braids he wished he could've funded for her. For her, he would splurge his life savings on anything she could ever want and need. Miles knew that the Ms. Independent in her would never let him, something he admired about her. He grew to admire a lot about her. She's going to work me hard

Right now, our favorite two were in front the (l/n)'s residence as she frantically searched for her keys. Opening the door, she stood nervously as Miles remained outside, (y/n) went back down the steps to face Miles before―

Flash ¦

Hiding her phone in an instant, Dae smiled innocently, chuckling softly as she made way to her room.

"My dearest princess Tiana, whenever you're done dreaming about your prince Naveen and you find yourself needing me. Well, which I hope not, I'll be playing Valorant's new season" "There's a new season?" With her head peeking out the door frame, she narrowed her eyes "I don't know, fuck around and find out"

Before I could say something she shut her door. Yup, mini-me. I took up my phone in reaction to the notification sound, it was a message from Lailah.

"Mind explaining why thee Miles Morales wants your house address?"

okay culprit.

"took his book on accident" "so what you're telling me is" "You saw miles in the flesh and blood within less than three feet?" "Eww lailah" "It sounds weird like that" "girl, you cannot tell me that you don't find him cute" "who?" "miles?"

If you want him girl take him, I certainly won't

"..obviously" "nope...you do?" "who doesn't" "I'm worried about you" "wtv"

I scoffed.

What's so special about him? He looks like every other guy, like literally. The only difference is probably his jawline, smile, eyes..how all his features just make him look so. so. so.. majestic? I hissed and laid down on the countertop, groaning when my hands couldn't push my head any deeper into the material as I accepted defeat. The image of just him doing anything could bring a smile and not a scowl to my face. Ew

I hate this― whatever that he's making me feel, I don't like it.

I'll be staring part three for my other story and also this one

[katnisspeetaprim]

BTS Reaction A photographer Tries To Photograph Under Your Skirt (Maknae Line)

BTS Reaction; A Photographer Tries To Look Up Your Skirt

Hyung Line Here!

Masterlist

Warnings: Female reader (character wears a skirt) being in an uncomfortable situation, creepy guy with camera.

If you guys have any rrequests of reactions for me then please let me know! I want to practice my writing as much as possible and would love some prompts!

You and your group mates were currently at an awards show, sitting in the audience surrounded by many other idol groups.

You loved your stylist you really did however, you had once again been given a too short skirt and safety shorts to wear.

The rest of your group got to wear shorts or at the very least longer skirts to these type of events, it’s always you who draws the short straw. As you sat with your group you realised that there was nothing to cover up with, like a pillow or a blanket, so you decided on just staying as still as possible and strategically placing your hands together in your lap.

Park Jimin

You were extremely conscious of the fact that pretty much all of your legs were on show, due to the fact that a particular photographer was getting a little too confident with his camera angles. You tried your best to turn at an angle so he wouldn’t see anything, but that only caused you to display more thigh instead.

BTS were sat behind you in the venue, so from Jimin’s position he could see you fidgeting about uncomfortable while keeping your eye on the man in front of you. Jimin’s eyes widened when he realised what the man was trying to do, so he quickly started looking around for something for you to use.

Once he found something suitable he was scurrying towards you and you for one, had never been so relieved to see a pillow before! You took it with a grateful smile and a bow of your head, before he quietly leaned in to ask if you were ok or needed him to do anything else.

Kim Taehyung

You caught Taehyung’s eye when you stood up suddenly from your seat to quietly excuse yourself. There was something wrong with the shorts under your skirt because of course there was, and you didn’t have time to run to the bathroom so you tried to find somewhere a little secluded at the side of the seats to fix yourself. You ended up standing near to were BTS were seated.

Tae noticed as you fiddled with your outfit that you were unintentionally showing off more than you probably (definitely) meant to. It was at this moment that he spotted a bold photographer, not so subtly making his way over towards you, camera at a low angle facing up.

Without a second thought, Tae got up and made his way over to you, to place himself between you and the guy. The guy couldn’t help but pull a disgruntled face at Taehyung as he obstructed his view, all the while Tae had a calm but also hard look on his face as he kept eye contact with the photographer, not backing down. He wasn’t about to be intimidated by a low life such as this creep.

Once you finished fixing yourself you were  blushing mess at having been caught in such a predicament, but made sure to thank Tae profusely for protecting you the way that he did. Tae of course ever the gentleman, made sure that you got back to your seat with no further issues.

Jeon Jungkook

Your group had just won an award and were on your way back to your seats , when Jungkook noticed a man below the stage pointing his camera up at you as you walked by. Obviously you were too busy celebrating your win to notice the invasion of your privacy, but Jungkook saw and he was certain that the creep now had an inappropriate photo of you.

Jungkook didn’t really know what to do in that moment, had the guy been doing that all night to other idols or just to you? The thought sickened him that somebody like that got into this place.

Calling over the steward in charge of caring for the idols that night was all he could really think to do, at least then he could point the guy out and get him dealt with, so he did just that.

He let out a sigh of relief when just a few short moments later, the photographer was escorted out after having his camera confiscated.

Jungkook knew that you hadn’t noticed the photo being taken, and he didn’t plan on telling you right then and there either, not wanting to spoil your night. He was sure your manager would tell you once they heard the news anyway.

Once the show was over, Jungkook headed backstage hoping to find you but all he found was your manager who gladly gave him your number.

He would be calling you the next day to make sure that you were ok and to also congratulate you on your win!

[pandorasword]

Chaeri as the 8th and youngest member of BTS.

Chaeri's masterlist

❒ members: Jungkook

❒ genre: Angst

❒ words: 1.6k+

❒ summary: In which posing for Calvin Klein turns out to be a more challenging job than she'd ever thought it would be

❒ notes: I don't know what to say about this. Maybe I feel like insulting myself, maybe I feel like insulting Chaeri, maybe I feel like insulting everybody. My heart aches

❒ warnings: Confusing af

Calvin Klein with BTS' Jungkook and Chaeri

Early March 2023 (Before Harry Styles' concert in Seoul)

a little off-camera ⸻

As she stepped onto the set, she was greeted with cheers from the entire crew. Everyone was excited to see her, and she couldn't help but feel a sense of pride wash over her. She had worked hard to get here, and it was finally paying off.

She shook several hands, she was complimented in multiple languages, half of which she didn't even know.

Everyone seemed to swirl around her, to express how proud they were to have her as their new ambassador, how much the fans would love the photos that would be released and the mature, woman-defining image that all that would give her.

And she was ecstatic and very grateful, but she was almost relieved to be able to retreat to the changing room for a few minutes of silence.

She closed the door behind her and let out a sigh of relief, but the presence of someone in the room made her hold her breath for a few seconds. She thought they would have different spaces to prepare for the shots, but instead she was greeted by the sight of Jungkook lounging on the couch. Dressed in jeans and denim jacket, he was sitting comfortably on the sofa holding his cell phone in his tattooed hand. His hair even longer and wilder than she remembered it

He looked up as she entered, and their eyes met for the first time in weeks, since the day he had driven her back to her apartment after living together for weeks

"Hey," he said, his voice soft and warm.

"Hey," she replied, trying to keep her voice steady. This was exactly what she had been dreading. She didn't know how to act around him anymore. It seemed that since she had recovered and returned to her regular life, something had been left unresolved between them.

Luckily (or unluckily) the people in charge of fixing her hairstyle, make-up and helping her dress made their appearance. 

Chaeri felt a wave of relief wash over her as the stylists came in, distracting her from Jungkook's presence. She quickly got changed into the denim outfit that had been laid out for her behind the divider that separated her from the area where the boy was.

As the stylists worked their magic on her, she couldn't help but steal a few glances at Jungkook. He looked the same as ever, but there was a sadness in his eyes that she couldn't ignore. It was as if he was trying to tell her something without actually saying it.

"Is everything ok?" she finally asked, unable to take the silence any longer.

Jungkook looked up at her, his eyes meeting hers once again. "Yeah, everything's fine," he said, but she could tell that he was lying.

"Are you sure?" she pressed.

"Yeah, you look amazing" he said, his eyes scanning her from head to toe.

"Thanks"

Finally, he cleared his throat. "So, we're doing the denim shots first, right?" he asked

Chaeri nodded, grateful for the change of subject. "Yeah, that's what they told me" 

"That "s right, soon they will come and call you to start" the girl who had just finished applying her mascara broke into the conversation.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

They arrived on set, and the photographer greeted them warmly. He explained the concept for the shoot and what he wanted from them. Chaeri listened intently, trying not to pay too much attention to the female hands, with long, polished nails, that helped jungkook shed the jacket he had on because 'let's start with the shirtless photos, if that's okay with you'

They started with individual shots. Chaeri posed with ease, every shot showing off her curves and the denim outfit in the best way possible. Jungkook too was a natural, his toned physique and smoldering gaze making for the perfect shot.

But when it was time for the duo shots, things got a little awkward.

The first concept was to show the lower part of their bodies to enhance the jeans they were wearing.

They were instructed to lean against each other, Jungkook's hands on her pants, while Chaeri's hands rested on his chest.

As they got into position, Chaeri couldn't help but feel a spark of electricity between them. She tried to push it away, thinking that it was just her imagination. But then Jungkook's hands brushed against her hips, sending shivers down her spine.

"Sorry," he whispered, looking at her with a mix of apology and longing.

"It's fine," she replied, trying to keep her voice steady.

As the photographer started snapping away, Chaeri tried to focus on the job at hand and shut up those useless and disrespectful thoughts that surfaced in his mind from time to time.

She was dating Hongjoong and not him.

He was seeing that cute blonde girl and not her.

Things were clear, weren't they?

They were just good friends now, or rather 'family’, nothing more.

But as the shoot progressed and every time Jungkook's hands brushed against her or their bodies came too close, her mind went blank.

It was like she was caught in a whirlwind of emotions.

As they moved on to the next concept, things only got worse. This time, they were asked to lay on top of each other, their bodies pressed together as they looked into each other's eyes.

It was too much for Chaeri. She could feel Jungkook's breath on her face, his body heat radiating against hers. It was like all of her senses were on high alert, and she couldn't focus on anything else.

"Jungkook," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

He looked up at her, concern etched on his face. "What's wrong?"

"I don't know," she said, her voice shaky. "I just...I can't do this."

Jungkook sat up, and she was quick to stand up and bow to the photographer in apology "I'm sorry, I just need a break" Chaeri rushed off the set, not looking back until she had reached the safety of her changing room. Her heart was racing, and she could feel the sweat beading on her forehead. What was wrong with her? Why was she feeling this way about Jungkook?

She sat down on the couch, letting out a deep breath. She needed to calm down and get her head back in the game. That shoot was important for her career, and she couldn't let her emotions get in the way.

But as she was trying to catch her breath and regain her composure, the door to the changing room opened, and Jungkook walked in.

"Hey, are you okay?" he asked, his voice filled with concern.

She looked up at him, her heart rate increasing once again. He was so close, and she could smell his cologne. It was driving her crazy.

"I'm okay" she said, trying to sound convincing.

But Jungkook wasn't fooled. He walked over and sat down next to her on the couch.

"No, you're not," he said, his eyes searching hers. "You've been acting strange ever since I got here."

Chaeri looked away, unable to meet his gaze. She didn't want to admit the truth, even to herself.

"I don't know what you're talking about" she muttered.

But Jungkook wasn't going to let it go. He reached out and took her hand in his, his touch sending shivers down her spine once again.

"Chaeri, please," he said, his voice soft and pleading. "I know there's something going on between us. I feel it too."

Hongjoong Hongjoong Hongjoong Hongjoong Hongjoong

In her head rumbled the name of the boy who had been with her so patient and sweet, who had shown her that love could also be experienced in freedom, without hiding, without lies, without having to pretend to be something you are not.

Chaeri pulled her hand back from Jungkook's, angrily.

Angry at herself for what her body was forcing her to feel with him. Everything beyond affection was wrong and forbidden. 

"I really don't know what you are talking about, but there is nothing between you and me."

Jungkook's face fell, and Chaeri could feel the tension in the air. She hated that she had hurt him, but she couldn't let that happen. Let nothing between them happen

"I'm sorry," he said quietly, standing up from the couch. "I didn't mean to make things awkward."

Chaeri watched as he walked towards the door, feeling a pang of regret, but she didn't think she could handle being around him without wanting more. Not after the weeks she had spent with him, not after the way he had cared for her, not after the way his touch had reminded her of all the feelings she had suppressed for years by then.

"Jungkook," she called out, her voice barely above a whisper.

He turned around, his eyes meeting hers once again.

"I'm sorry too," she said, standing up from the couch. "I just...I can't do this. Not with you, not again."

Jungkook nodded, his eyes showed a hint of disappointment. He knew he had to respect her wishes, but it didn't make it any easier "I should probably get back to the shoot"

"Yeah, you should" She couldn't help but feel a sense of loss.

This was the end of something, and she wasn't quite sure what it was.

Jungkook turned to leave once again and that time she didn't call him to come back

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

As she watched him leave, Chaeri couldn't shake off the feeling that this was only the beginning of something bigger. Something that would eventually come to light and threaten to destroy everything she had worked so hard for. 

But for now, she had a shoot to finish. She took a deep breath and stood up, determined to put her emotions aside and focus on the job.

That was what she had been taught at the end, wasn't it?

taglist: @alixnsuperstxr

[lemonluvgirl]

The Designation Games (Part 2)

Ya’ll are in luck, I busted my butt this weekend to not only revamp this story, and edit it, but I also wrote another chapter/part. And I added some typical Alpha/Omega smut adjacent behavior! Enjoy, your thirsty babies ;) 

The Remake Center was everything Haymitch had warned them it would be and more. 

After a long day of being poked, prodded, tested, waxed, plucked, and scrubbed to near death, She, and all the other tributes were released back to their rooms at the training facility. The preps explained it was so they could eat and rest and talk strategy with their mentors until the next morning when they would meet their stylists and receive the results of their genetic testing. 

Katniss did her best to remain cooperative when the strange people who made up her ‘prep team’ worked on her body. They were like a trio of colorful birds who flitted about with their strange tools and chirped in their odd Capitol accents. They were all betas and didn’t make one comment about her designation. They were too preoccupied with the sorry state of her nail beds and her split ends. 

Things Katniss had never had cause to fuss over in her life before. They complimented her in the end though and said she was a change of pace to work on because she never complained.  After she thanked them for their services and they gushed over her. She had a feeling she had made allies of them or at least endeared them to herself. And while she didn’t think they would be of any help when she was in the arena she also acknowledged the fact that acting agreeable could be of some benefit in the week preceding the start of the Games. These were the people in charge of making her look presentable to the Capitol audiences, which in turn helped her garner sponsors. So she took Haymitch’s advice and didn’t fight them, even when they poured hot wax on her legs and yanked out the hairs section by section. 

Later, at dinner, with Haymitch, Peeta, and their escort, Effie, she tried to pace herself in between courses. 

While the dining on the train had been lavish, here in the tribute center it was even more opulent. The meal was an entire affair, with things like appetizers, and something called hors d'oeuvres, salad, and soup courses. All that before even getting to the main course. Then there was dessert. By the time it was over, she was relieved to not feel sick again like she had the first night on the train. 

Everyone made small talk, about the prepping process, and Katniss and Peeta had informed Haymitch that they followed his instructions to the letter. 

“Good, because the preps report to the stylists and they can make or break you come time for the interviews. You need to stay on their good sides.” Haymitch cautioned as he placed a hand over the top of his drink when an Avox, a mute demi-human servant, came over to try and refill his glass. 

It made Katniss feel slightly better to see Haymitch taking it easy on the drinking, and focusing more on the conversation. 

She hoped things would stay that way throughout the next few days while they prepared for the Games. 

When Haymitch invited them to the roof for a nightcap, she almost declined out of principle, but Haymitch practically ordered her to accompany him and Peeta. Effie was miffed about being excluded but Haymitch put her off, citing mentor/tribute privilege. 

When they finally got up to the roof, it was late and Katniss was disappointed to see that the stars were rendered almost invisible by the brightness of the Capitol lights. The sight made her chest ache with a longing for home so acute that she had to stifle a small whimper. She felt more than heard Peeta shifting closer to her, maybe alerted to something in her scent that signaled distress. 

Katniss almost groaned in frustration. She didn’t want him hovering, worrying about her like she was some weak and pathetic creature just because of her designation. But at the same time, something inside her felt pulled towards him and his rich and calming scent, like she was on an invisible string. It was a concerted effort to remain as she was. She didn’t want to shrink in fear, or approach in curiosity. Still, she felt Peeta studying her as if searching for the slightest change in her demeanor. 

“Alright, so I figured it was time for us three to have some more honest talk.” Haymitch began, getting her attention as he beckoned them over to a section of the roof that contained a small garden replete with windchimes. 

He took out a flask and then produced two small tea cups from his coat pockets. He proceeded to unscrew the cap on his flask and tip it into the first cup, filling it midway with some kind of light brown liquid. 

“Drink this.” He said, passing the cup to Peeta. Peeta took it gingerly, careful not to spill but he didn’t immediately drink it either. Haymitch didn’t bother repeating his instruction, but went on to pour some liquid into the second cup and then he extended his arm to offer the cup to Katniss. 

She automatically shook her head. She felt her skin pimple into goosebumps with awareness like it did whenever she felt danger or risk had entered a situation. 

“I don’t want it.” She said in refusal. 

Haymitch made an impatient noise and thrust the cup at her, barely managing to not spill the contents. 

“Just drink it.” He ordered. She frowned, and opened her mouth to argue, but was cut off. 

“We already had wine with dinner, Haymitch.” Peeta protested, seemingly on her behalf. Katniss frowned, formulating a retort in her mind to let Peeta know she didn’t want or need his interference. 

“This is the part where you both start trusting your mentor because he knows what the hell he’s doing.” Haymitch asserted in a steely tone and after a moment Katniss reached out and took the cup. 

It was lukewarm and only smelled faintly of alcohol. 

“What’s in this?” She questioned, unable to help herself. 

“Something to calm your nerves. It should help you both concentrate.” Haymitch promised. 

She lifted the cup to her nose and underneath the light liquor scent, she detected some familiar notes of herbs and spices. Tea and something else. 

“Is it a suppressant?” Peeta asked in a skeptical tone. Katniss’ mind nearly boggled to hear Peeta say the word. Suppressants were illegal, at least in the districts. The Capitol didn’t want their district workforce to have access to anything that could help them hide their Alpha or Omega natures. So no, suppressants were not something brought up in casual conversation. 

“Something like that,” Haymitch said before taking a gulp from his own flask. “Don’t worry, it’s perfectly fine here in the Capitol. They give it to us mentors all the time.” He said, then he noticed his tributes’ nervous expressions and he spoke again, “We can speak freely here. The wind and the chimes drown out most listening devices.” Haymitch added. 

Katniss breathed in and inhaled the rich and earthy smell of the tea that had been infused with whatever Haymitch kept in his flask. The sharp scent of the middle-aged alpha man in front of her also made its way to her nostrils when she inhaled, plus the deeply distracting but fresh and soothing scent of the young alpha next to her. 

The tea itself smelled remarkably similar to the one she remembered her mother brewing at home for her father, in the years before the Capitol found them. Her mother had been a district trained healer before she became an Alpha’s mate. She had a vast knowledge of plants and herbs and the various ways to combine them. 

Katniss took a small sip of the tea. Peeta, after seeing her, did the same. Then they all waited. A minute passed by and a slight tingling sensation started on her tongue and made its way down her throat. Then it spread, slowly through her body. 

It did make her feel calmer, in a way. The scent of the two Alphas near her became muted and she was able to take deeper breaths. The suppressant in the tea dulled her senses as well, but right now that was what she probably needed. Being in the presence of two alphas was not an everyday occurrence for her. Especially when she felt so out of sorts. She quickly drained her cup dry, diving into the comfort it provided. A few minutes ago she had felt prickly and ready to flee or fight, like her every instinct was heightened and every nerve in her body had been sent on high alert. 

But the herbs in the tea helped her to push those clamoring sensations down, and focus. Besides that, the taste reminded her of home. 

“What do you know about the different designations?” Their mentor asked, breaking the silence. He was looking at her, not at Peeta. She felt singled out for a moment, but then again, she had been the one who was thrown off the most by her mentor’s discussion of heats and ruts, and the intricacies of Alpha and Omega dynamics. 

She looked into his Seam gray eyes and felt placated by the lack of artifice in them. 

“I know-” She hesitated, wishing she had paid more attention in her history of designations class when she was in school. She had been too preoccupied with her plans for hunting and foraging. With staying alive. 

 “I know what everyone knows I guess. What they taught in school. There are three distinct types—alpha, beta, and omega.” She offered. 

Haymitch nodded at this but remained silent as if encouraging her to go on. Peeta shifted slightly, turning as if to get a better view of her while she spoke. It almost made her scowl, but she resisted the urge. Determined to ignore it, and answer the question, she focused on Haymitch. 

After a moment she resumed. 

“Designations were the reason for the catastrophes that destroyed the modern world in the previous era. They caused wars and unrest and the human race tore itself to pieces because alphas and omegas couldn’t suppress their savage natures. The Capitol says that’s why they can’t allow alphas and omegas to live among betas. That’s why they are reaped for the Designation Games. To weed out the unmanageable ones. To keep the beta population safe from violence and savagery.” She says in an almost rote tone, something she memorized to pass an examination, but never took to heart. The words leave a bad taste in her mouth. 

Her father was an alpha and he hadn’t been a mindless, violent savage. Neither had her mother been a hapless Omega slave he ordered about. They had been a man and woman, human as any other. Who loved each other and their family.

 The fact that others like them were reaped and forced to fight to the death savagely,  simply for being born something other than a beta, wasn’t a flaw of designation, it was the error of those who came up with the Games and those who perpetuated them. Anyone would fight to preserve their life. Alpha, omega, or beta alike. 

“Did you know that everyone alive today has an alpha or omega in their ancestry? And you don’t even need to go back very far. As little as four generations in most people.” Haymitch asked before taking a sip from his flask. 

Katniss blinked at him, startled. 

He ignored her look of shock and forged ahead. 

“What they don’t teach in the districts is the history of post-cataclysmic genetics, it's not essential for most of the jobs we do. Miners don’t need advanced schooling to break down rocks. But in the Capitol, the history of designations also comes with a genetics class. Everyone who has gone through secondary school there can tell you that alphas and omegas make up an integral part of the population. Something like 60 to 70%.” 

“But that’s just not possible,” Peeta said, taking the words right out of her mouth. 

“It is actually because it’s not their primary designation. It’s their secondary designation. Their dormant designation.” Haymitch disclosed quietly. 

“Wait, what? How can someone have two designations? And how can one of them be what did you say--dormant?” Peeta said in a bewildered tone while Katniss stood in stunned silence. 

“After the catastrophe that destroyed North America, the survivors, all the scientists, and leaders did their best to try and correct the problem of designations. They envisioned a world full of betas, without the messiness of alpha and omega instincts. At first, they thought to breed alphas and omegas out of the population entirely, but there weren’t enough people left to successfully eliminate those designations. They needed alphas and omegas, specifically because alphas and omegas are among the most naturally fertile, especially when paired together. So, instead of trying to breed alphas and omegas out, they tried to alter their genetic makeup to bypass their baser instincts. Suppressants only worked as long as alphas and omegas took them and had access to them. Which, in a post-apocalyptic world, that had suffered a major collapse of infrastructure and industry,  was not a long-term solution. So the idea was to overwrite alpha and omega DNA with beta DNA and breed a new generation of people who despite their parents’ designations, would never go into heat, or rut, or show signs of being anything other than even-tempered betas.” 

“That’s…” Peeta began but trailed off. 

“Yes, it's quite the feat of science,” Haymitch said the words with a spiteful sort of sarcasm. 

“Wait. How can you tell us all of this? Isn’t it some kind of secret? I mean, why keep it from the people in the district if it's a part of history?” Katniss finally found her voice, and she questioned Haymitch while her eyes narrowed skeptically. 

“Well, there are two parts to that answer. Let’s take the easiest one first. It’s not exactly a secret. The information is out there, but not many people are smart enough to connect the dots. I believe they teach something about genetic failure in the school unless things have changed since my day.” Haymitch said arching a brow. 

Katniss thought for a moment, she vaguely recalled her monotone history teacher's voice saying something along those lines, and posters in the school hallways encouraging people to make note of their friends and family members’ temperaments in the event of GF. 

She nodded, carefully. Beside her, Peeta gave a sound of agreement. 

“Right, so, genetic failure occurs when something goes wrong with an individual’s written code. It’s uncontrollable, and it only occurs during the late adolescent stage of development, when a person’s hormones are still fluctuating and unpredictable. That’s why only people between the ages of 16-18 present. There’s a breakdown in the genetic programming that allows the individual’s secondary designation to overcome the beta overlay.” Haymitch explained. 

“Oh.” Katniss sat back with a frown. She tried to wrap her mind around the idea that she, and the people like her, her father, mother, Haymitch, and Peeta, had their lives upended and often cut short because of a failure of genetic programming. A failure they had no control over, if what Haymtich was saying was correct. 

“So why even have the Games? Why not just round up every person who presents as an alpha or omega and execute them?” She demanded, angrily. Haymitch frowned at her, but after a moment he replied. 

“For the same reason that the scientists couldn’t breed alphas and omegas out of the gene pool. We are integral to the population. Without the assistance of alpha and omega fertility, an all-beta population would go extinct within three generations. Society is still recovering from the cataclysms. Our population can only handle so much pruning at this point. We still need alphas and omegas, even those who somehow overcome their genetic programming. They need young alphas and omegas that are bright and capable, smart, and able to curb their instincts as well as utilize them. They need them to win the Games and contribute to the local population.” Haymitch informed. 

“Is that why the children of victors are often reaped?” Katniss asked, her voice alight with realization. 

“For the most part. Victors tend to have large families, and though the majority of their offspring often turn out beta dominant, there’s always the chance that one or two might present as something else.” 

“So that leaves the other half of the question. Why are you telling us this?” Peeta asked. 

“All the mentors inform their tributes at some point. Most do it on their first night on the train. Unfortunately, that night I was indisposed.” He paused here, and Katniss is sure they are all recalling how he had gotten so drunk they hadn’t even seen him until the next day.

“But I’m clear-headed enough now, so I thought it best not to beat around the bush any longer.” Haymitch said. 

“So all the other tributes will know about dual designations?” Peeta queried in a serious voice. 

“Yes. And they’ll be out to play you and your natures against each other. Which is why I want you two to present a united front. This has to look like a team effort, you two are going to be friends, like we talked about. Close friends for the next few days.” Haymitch said in a more commanding tone. 

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“You want Peeta to put his what where?!” Katniss almost shouted. They had been discussing their strategy for how the two of them would tackle their training session tomorrow. 

It would be the first time they met all the other tributes, and Haymitch had some crazy plan that was supposed to create some kind of scent barrier that would keep the other Alphas and Omegas from getting too close. 

“Shh.” Haymitch hushed her harshly. 

Peeta was already shaking his head. 

“I’m not going to do that. That’s—it would be too much, Haymitch!” Peeta replied testily. 

Katniss stole a glance at him. The spot of color high on his cheeks told her he was as uncomfortable with this idea as she was. 

“You two are the strongest contenders that 12 has produced in years. I can smell how strong you are and I’m old and sloshed more than half the time. Those sharks down there,” Haymitch stopped to point to the floor, and Katniss took his gesture to mean the other tributes who were occupying the floors of the training center below them, “they’ll be able to smell it too. The tributes from the Career districts look for angles to exploit like this. Those with demi-human parentage train at a special academy from the time they’re young. They specifically spend time around other Alphas and Omegas on purpose to prepare for the Games. They desensitize themselves for years until they are basically immune to the opposite gender’s pheromones. And then they volunteer when they turn eighteen. They will single you out, play their little games and force a physical response that will put you at a disadvantage. In the past five years, I’ve had one or both of my tributes sabotaged with premature heat or rut before the gong even sounded. Trust me when I say you don’t want to start off the Games doped up out of your mind on some Capitol concoction to pause a heat or rut, and then be forced to sweat out the meds and wait for your full senses to come back to you. The Careers will get the upper hand and they will hunt you down if you two try to go it alone.” Their mentor told them in a deadly serious tone. 

Katniss felt the blood drain from her face as the scenario that Haymitch had just painted sprung to life in her mind. Real terror clawed it's way up her throat. 

Peeta appeared beside her, suddenly closer than he had been a second ago, his hand clutching the cup tightly in his grip. A soft growl escaped his lips. 

Katniss looked over at him with shock, but he was staring directly at Haymitch, not quite baring his teeth, but it certainly wasn’t a smile that was on his face. 

Haymitch merely rolled his eyes, dismissing Peeta’s behavior. Katniss looked down and away from them, fighting the urge to blush. Why did the idea of Peeta growling at Haymitch because of her make her heart race? 

“That’s a good start, but save it for training. The wind chimes cover a lot but they don’t cover shouting or fighting. And you better finish drinking your tea boy. No need for all that posturing with me.” Haymitch warned in a half-amused tone. 

“Alright, say we believe you about how serious it is that the other tributes will want to sabotage us, what’s to say that Peeta…what did you call it? Scenting me? Won’t do the same thing and trigger a biological response anyway?” Katniss asked, wanting to get off the topic of alpha posturing and back on their strategic planning. 

“Because I’ll be here to supervise,” Haymitch replied. 

“I don’t know if that makes me feel better or—” Katniss said, uncomfortable with the idea of not only letting Peeta scent her but also with the stipulation that a third party would be present to watch them. It sounded creepy. 

“Look, I don’t get off on teenage fumbling if that’s what you’re worried about. Besides, you have all the charm of a dead slug, sweetheart. No, I would be there to make sure you two follow instructions and don’t get carried away. Also, I’d be dosing you two with some light suppressants right before each scenting session so your responses would be mitigated.” Haymitch explained. 

Katniss bit back a few choice words, especially after hearing him liken her to a dead slug. But the more she thought about it, the more it made sense. 

What possible reason could Haymitch have for instructing his tributes to bond together in such a way? For all his faults he really didn’t appear to be a pervert. And if Peeta was in the same precarious position she was in, didn’t it make sense for the two of them to help each other?

This was just a strategy. 

It was all part of playing the Games. 

So if that was true, why did it feel like some insane voice in her head was practically purring at the thought of Peeta rubbing his scent all over her?

“Okay,” Katniss said, almost too quickly. 

Haymitch looked over towards Peeta. 

“Are you sure it’s safe?” Peeta asked Haymitch, voice full of concern. 

“Much safer than some random Omega stealthing you with her slick on your scent glad when you’re not looking, boy.” Haymitch replied tersely. 

Katniss let out a quiet gasp. 

Did Omegas really do that???

She couldn’t even imagine…

Ok, no stop it. She told herself, immediately trying to erase the mental image of rubbing her own wet fingers over the raised, puffy gland on Peeta’s neck. 

She was suddenly very glad for the tea Haymitch had given her. In fact, she wondered if he had any more on hand. 

Katniss cleared her throat, “So what do we have to do?” 

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They were directed to sit down beside each other. Peeta led her, hand hovering above the small of her back to the small bench in the rooftop garden. 

For the first few minutes, they simply sat next to each other and Haymitch asked them to concentrate on each other’s scent and proximity. 

Katniss could taste Peeta’s trepidation on the roof of her tongue, and she was sure he could probably taste hers. But underneath that, there was an undercurrent of other notes in his scent. 

Skepticism, uncertainty, and faint flickers of…anticipation? Excitement? 

She tried to concentrate on his scent but the more she tuned into him, the fuzzier her thoughts became. 

That same languid warmth spread through her again, slowly, making her relax and filling her with a strange sort of comfort. 

In the quietness of that headspace, Katniss heard the voice that had been swimming in the back of her mind, not quite loud enough to be heard before, but always present, and lurking ever since she went through her fever. 

Alpha is strong and kind. He would be a good mate. We must show him our neck. We must be good! Please our Alpha, and he will care for us!

“Oh, my odds! What the hell was that?!” Katniss spoke up, startled. 

She heard Haymitch try and stifle a chuckle. 

“That, I’d hazard to guess, would be your Omega voice, sweetheart,” Haymitch replied. 

“My what?” Katniss asked, bewildered. 

“You know, the mental manifestation of your biological imperatives. The little voice that tells you to suck up to any Alpha in the vicinity. She’s an untrustworthy little bitch, but it’s better that you get acquainted with her now and get used to ignoring her bullshit advice than being blindsided during the Games.” Haymitch explained. 

“How? How do you know she’s untrustworthy?” Katniss managed to ask after a brief pause. 

“Because Alphas have their own stupid little voice. Except it ain’t so little and its twice as stupid. Am I right, boy?” Haymitch asked, looking over at Peeta. 

Peeta now had his eyes open and was regarding Haymitch with something like frustration. 

But when Katniss turned her attention to him he refocused on her. 

“I—um, yeah. I started to hear it after I came out of my fever.” Peeta admitted, one hand scratching the back of his neck self-consciously. 

“What does it say to you?” Katniss asked, genuinely curious. 

“It’s always barking at me about stupid things. I honestly just try to ignore it, most of the time.” Peeta replied vaguely. 

Katniss wanted to press him for more information but Haymitch cleared his throat. 

“As much as I love you all’s little sharing fest, it's getting late and you two have to get an early start tomorrow. So, now that you both have been introduced to your hormonal alter egos, I say we get this show on the road.” Haymitch drawled impatiently. 

Katniss felt her heart speed up, and the now significantly louder voice inside her head was practically salivating at the idea of letting Peeta scent her. 

Peeta for his part look slightly stressed and hesitated to come any closer to her. 

“Um, do you want to—?” 

“We should just—” 

They both began speaking at the same time and behind them, Haymitch let out an exasperated sigh. 

“Sometime before my liver gives out on me.” Their mentor needled them. 

“Now you’re just outlining the benefits for us to drag this out.” Peeta bit back turning his head to stare down their mentor over his shoulder. His comment was rather acerbic and surprising to Katniss. 

But then she giggled. She realized if there was one thing she could get on board with Peeta about, it was serving up some sass to their slightly overbearing mentor.

 Peeta’s head whipped back around at the sound of her laugh and his eyes widened. He seemed stunned that he had made her laugh. 

Katniss’ eyes crinkled, and she held her smile, willing him to see that it was ok. 

His gaze locked on her smiling lips, and he breathed out a relieved breath. Then he gave her a smile that was so genuine and sweet, with just a hint of shyness that it made her inner Omega practically swoon. 

Katniss found herself leaning in without thinking, and tilting her head slightly to offer up her neck to him. 

Peeta’s pupils grew dilated, and he sucked in a breath. The tip of his tongue poked out of his mouth to wet his soft-looking, plush, and rosy lips. He leaned in, but then pulled back slightly. 

Katniss fought a whimper, and the urge to pull his mouth down to her neck. 

He reached out and gently took her hand. 

“Is this okay?” He asked, blue eyes holding hers until they darted back down to her neck, and the soft patch of skin that was beginning to throb under his scrutiny. 

“Yes,” Katniss breathed the word softly, in a voice that she would have been embarrassed to hear coming from her mouth at any other time. 

Peeta nodded to himself and leaned in. 

She had expected him to start licking immediately. Because that was how Haymitch had explained it. An Alpha’s saliva could create a temporary bond with an Omega if applied directly to her scent gland, and vice versa. 

So Katniss was surprised when Peeta’s lips placed a tentative kiss on the side of her neck instead, right above her scent gland. 

But still, even with that tiny, almost chase kiss, it felt like her body had erupted with heat. 

“Oh,” She exclaimed, involuntarily, in a high and surprised voice and it seemed to trigger something in Peeta, because, in the next moment, he attached his whole mouth to her gland and absolutely covered it in kisses. 

And the sensation was unlike anything Katniss had ever felt before. 

Her entire body was alive, and thrumming with energy. Her muscles tensed and arched under his touch. She found herself tilting her head back more, inviting him to claim her neck and her scent gland thoroughly.

And he did. He parted his lips and began to suck. An intense ripple of pleasure surged through her, and she bit down on her lip to stifle a cry. 

Waves of delicious and forbidden heat spread down to her lower abdomen and then lower still, to a part of her that she had never felt so aware of or preoccupied with before. There was a needfulness rousing inside her, curling and coiling into something splendid or awful, she wasn’t sure which. 

The only thing she was sure of was that Peeta’s mouth was magic and she never wanted him to stop—

“Okay, that’s enough.” Came Haymitch’s rude interruption. 

Katniss’ eyes blinked open and she was startled to discover their mentor standing just a few feet away. She had forgotten he was there! That he was supervising them! She struggled with an overwhelming sense of aggravation at his interruption and also a small but growing sense of mortification that he had witnessed her wanton behavior, but Peeta it seemed hadn’t even heard him. He was still lavishing her gland with his mouth. 

“I mean it, let her go,” Haymitch repeated, and this time Peeta did respond, with a low growl, more intense than any sound she had heard him make before. 

It shocked Katniss and scared her a little. But the moment her scent changed from that of a receptive and pleased Omega to one rife with fear and worry, Peeta pulled back and stopped. 

“There he is. Thought we lost you for a minute there, boy.” Haymitch said gruffly, approaching them slowly and cautiously, as Peeta leaned back and blinked his eyes slowly, as if trying to blink away a dream. 

“Sorry…” Peeta answered, still somewhat out of it. His eyes had the look of a man who had dived too deep and come up too quickly. 

“The first time touching an Omega up close can be intoxicating.” Haymitch replied dismissively, almost too casually. But when Katniss looked at his expression she could tell he was unsettled. 

But then he gestured for them both to stand up. When they did, Haymitch stepped towards her and cocked his head to the side, inspecting. 

Their mentor let out a low whistle. 

“He got you good, sweetheart.” 

Katniss clamped a hand down over her swollen and tender scent gland and shot Haymitch a murderous glare, but he just laughed. 

“I don’t think it’d be a good idea for you to return the favor right now. You two need some time to cool off, so we’ll have you scent him in the morning.” Haymitch instructed. 

The rush of endorphins was finally starting to abate and her head was clearing more by the second. And in the wake of her unrestrained behavior, she felt completely shocked and caught off guard at her own response to Peeta’s scenting of her. 

 So she took Haymitch’s instructions for what they were, a dismissal, and used the opportunity to flee the rooftop as quickly as her feet could carry her. 

[williammr01]

I have so many thoughts about the episode, but like everyone involved in the show deserves so much recognition. The editors, director, stylists, this show wouldn’t have taken off the way it has without the amount of care and detail from everyone involved with making the show. I hope at some point whoever is in charge of rights and distribution can make the series available on dvd.  I’ve loved/loved to hate all the characters, but Mon was always the hardest for me to understand because she is so young, and the motivation behind some of her decisions wasn’t apparent in the first 5 eps on first viewing (no shade on Becky, I think she’s done wonders with Mon’s character). But when Mon said she could be whatever Sam needed, even though the idea was clearly hurting her, I was like: okay, I see you. I get it. Mon’s always going to do what she thinks is the right thing, about everything, not just work. She’s always gonna react to situations, not do what she wants, unless it comes to Sam. Sam is the one who has shown Mon it’s okay to do what Mon wants. So when Kirk got in her head, I was so proud of her for getting through that convo with him. I knew obviously that she was gonna leave, just like I knew Sam would cave to grandma on her own; but that conversation with Kirk and her, Mon stuck to her guns, wanting to believe that she and Sam were still doing the right thing- that they deserved to be happy. I really liked how, for even just a day, Mon chose what she wanted. Nice bit of character growth imo. Becky is amazing and talented, and don’t even get me started on what she did in the last scene. Sam. Sigh. Freen broke my heart so many times in this episode. I’ve always loved Sam as a character, even though I’d say for most viewers Sam was toxic until halfway thru the series. And to be clear, yes she does have some toxic traits, but it’ll take years away from her grandma to resolve those. I’ve always had a softspot for strong silent types that have been hurt but still continue on, and Freen does an amazing job giving Sam different facets and layers. This episode is just... the way Sam was so honest about what she needed, about what the situation would be if Mon stayed- that she said Mon didn’t have to stay, but that Sam need Mon. It was completely heart wrenching that she was trying to be open, to give Mon a choice, but to also do what Mon had asked and be honest about what she wants. I don’t think I made it through a single scene of Sam’s without crying. And the last scene, ugh. Sam was all ready to go in, and her sister wasn’t there, but she was going to go fight grandma anyway for her and Mon. That she told Mon to wait, so grandma wouldn’t hurt Mon again, perfect, even though she just made it a thousand times harder on herself. As soon as Sam had begged Mon not to leave, and managed to convince her to stay, I knew grandma was toast, but I had really hoped she would have back up. The look on Sam’s face when she saw grandma and Kirk, the two people she had been closest to and loved the most, and then they ignored her- the way Freen conveyed the love, hurt and betrayal was top notch. Even though it hurt Sam to hurt them, you could tell she still thought there might be a chance they would see her. Sam didn’t break even when grandma collapsed, but then grandma said her plan would make Sam happy, and Sam knew that was wrong. Freen really sold me on Sam’s devastation that grandma really would never see her or love her as much as Sam did. I was so thankful Neung showed up then, if only to give Sam a moment to not think about that. Of course Neung went off on grandma (yay!), but the look of fear on Sam’s face, how she was so worried this would push grandma into a worse condition that just momentarily collapsing, that was just daggers that made me feel guilty for enjoying Neung’s defense.

And here’s her older sister, who has been gone for years, just pounding the obvious truth in her face, making Sam’s heartbreak and fear worse with each word. And grandma was proving Neung’s point over and over again, but Sam was also unable to walk away because she thought her grandma was having a  medical problem. How Sam couldn’t hurt her grandmother and walkaway if it was going to kill grandma, but her own grandmother wouldn’t stop and do the same for her, even in the face of potentially serious health issues. And then the back and forth of Neung and Grandma trying to convince her, when Sam didn’t need to be convinced at all, she was just desperately trying to think of way to deescalate the fight, but also not back down. Because if they forced her to choose, it would always be Mon. Sam had literally just faced her worst fear, and it wasn’t losing grandma, it was losing Mon. The little looks between Sam and Mon, Mon completely understanding, telling her it was okay, and still Sam held on- it was Grandma calling her name, making her choose, forcing Sam to pick herself. I was bawling at that point and had to rewatch the end.  So much character growth, and Freen just killed it and me. I’ve never felt so much for a character, the closest was Lexa from The 100. And Gap is just giving me all the hopes I’d had for Lexa, and saying “watch this, she’s gonna get her happy ending”. So yeah, I never thought a Thai gl with 12 eps was gonna make me care so much, but they did. I didn’t expect for Freen to take what could have been only a maladjusted character and give them so much feeling and depth, that I watched this ep fully knowing I have to wait two weeks to get that happy ending.

[cloveroctobers]

DECEMBER DRABBLES — 3. Ez Reyes 🌨️

A|N: Although it’s looking like a rough start for my winter prompts this year…I’m still at it and I have to be if I’m inspired to before the energy runs out! Anyways…this may count as a drabble? I love writing fluff for EZ although that man is clearly on a dark path in this point in time. Regardless I instantly saw this one on the prompt list that I’m following and thought, “Ezekiel MFKIN Reyes!”

S/N: + GIF belongs to its rightful owner, I couldn’t exactly pinpoint who created it on google 💚 + touching on the problem of hair in the black community.

PROMPT: #17. “Have you seen my gloves? Seriously? Take them off the dog.”

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You were not off to a good start this morning.

This could be blamed on many aspects that occurred last night…the main one being binge-watching Abbott Elementary (and Sweet Life) was part of it but if anybody asked you, you’d deny it.

It was easy for you to sleep through your ten alarms but having a husband like Ezekiel Lorenzo Reyes, who enjoyed being up at the crack of ass! wouldn’t let you sleep through the fifth alarm.

He was the morning person in the marriage and you were the late-morning person, which is why you slightly thought about changing your hours. You had a successful hair salon business that you shared with your god-brother about half a hour outside of Santo Padre. The work was time-consuming but you enjoyed the idea of perfecting people’s crowns.

You happened to be one of the few accommodating hair stylists out there, having a gentle approach to the tender headed, coming in early and staying late for certain clients if needed. Being pretty fair you did not over-charge for hairstyles like these new hair stylists on the scene often did and took the time to perfect your craft. Doing hair started young for you; the love for hair and tending to your own was the beginning of a eye-opening journey once many salons made you feel demeaned  about your texture.

From begging your mom to not drag you to the salons at the age of six to learning what best works for your texture at ten was a whole new awakening for you. Your mother couldn’t do a thing with your hair and wanted it to be relaxed (just like her own) since she wouldn’t take the time or knew how to best manage it. The moment she relaxed your hair, your grandfather let her have it, shockingly. Normally most men stayed out of women’s business (if they knew what was good for them) especially when it came to hair. Your grandfather became a single father having to raise your mother all on his own, after your grandmother passed with kidney disease when your mother was fifteen.

You learned that your grandfather knew how to tend to your mother’s hair—this was something your mother did not want to share. He told you that he tried his best to encourage your mother to love what grew from her scalp just like his wife did. You’ve seen many pictures of your grandmother who always sported a gorgeous fro in every photo.

The photo you adored the most was a picture of her in her wedding dress, looking over her shoulder, light in her eyes, and a forget me not tucked into her fro.

It was beautiful how carefree she seemed, a smile always on her lips and a twinkle in her eye. That’s how you wanted to be, not only in life but with the hair on your head as well.

There were many times that you wished you got the chance to meet your grandmother. Both of your grandparents were also involved in the civil rights movement and your grandfather seemed to be the only person that didn’t mind sharing his story. You were thankful since it seemed like any conversation that you wanted to have was deemed as you talking back—words by your mother, which was a issue.

It was evident that there were deep-rooted problems with your mother that she wasn’t ready to address yet. You tried your hardest to be empathetic but also realized, thanks to your therapist, that it isn’t only your job to connect with your mother. You were healing from your own childhood trauma that she was part of and you didn’t hate her but distance was needed. Love shouldn’t be heavy, especially when it came to the woman that once held you in her womb.

And so you dealt with her verbal abuse as a kid until spending summers in Georgia with your grandfather gave you purpose. You had the idea with your grandfather at just eleven years old to cut your damaged hair off. Your grandfather did the honors of buzzing the rest off for you in the pink tile bathroom and the twinkle that appeared in your eye afterwards…matched his late wife’s.

That moment was kept a secret during your two month stay and you actually did some heads for the very first time for kids on the cul- de-sac. Your grandfather witnessed this with pride and even took you to a salon where you met a woman named Carlotta. She was welcoming and encouraging after learning that you worked on two kid’s heads that came to see her occasionally. Carlotta even let you work in the shop twice a week during your stay and once you started working on a few adults heads (a choice you did on your own after she was dealing with her own personal issues) at eleven years old? She told you had a gift and you knew your purpose.

Now you were running late to the shop, knowing you were pushing it by the time you were fumbling with your hair in the bathroom. The change in weather was making your hair dry and it was time that you did a hair mask soon. You knew your god-brother would give you a mouth-full if you didn’t take care of it before he did your first wig-install in two weeks.

Adding the right amount of oil to your hair and scalp, you combed, brushed, and decided to slick your hair into a Sade braid for the day, adding some elastics to sections of the braid to make it more fun. Once satisfied, you checked the time again as you got back into the bedroom, thankful that EZ made the bed for you and scrambled to grab your earmuffs and bag.

Your first appointment was at 8:45am and you already knew you were going to be somewhat late. Thankfully this appointment was a simple rod-set and wouldn’t take too much time to get your client done. Thudding down the steps of your bungalow, you heard your stomach rumbling and figured you’d just have to UberEATS breakfast to the shop.

Sitting on the bench, you shoved your feet into your trainers then reached for your black trench coat to place over your clothes for the workday.

“Hey. I know you’re not leaving without this.” Ez called out to you, most likely from the dining room.

Sending out a text to your god-brother, you slipped your bag onto your shoulder slightly jogging back to the dining room where your husband sat comfortably at the head of the table. Of course he looked amazing so early in the morning, snug long sleeve white-thermal shirt on, decorated with his tags and grey sweats on and his skin? We loved a moisturized king! He most likely got his pre-workout done already if he was having tea and oatmeal. Usually he only sat down for breakfast if he worked out already and didn’t need to be at the club until later that morning.

EZ looked up from his phone, his hand already held out your YETI which was filled with orange juice. “No coffee and heavy breakfast while you’re on the road. We both know how that doesn’t agree with your system. I already slipped a protein bar into your bag while you were in the shower and the real breakfast should be there by the time you get to the shop.”

“You’re a good man,” you cooed gripping Ez’s chin, his facial hair pricking your fingertips as you connected your lips.

Ez laughed into the kiss after a couple of pecks, “eh, depends who you ask mi amor.”

“I’m not asking anybody anything,” you replied with a shrug of your shoulders, “I know my man.”

“Period, uh.” Ez slipped his hands beneath your trench coat to give your backside in your cozy sweats a nice squeeze.

Pointing at the man you said, “don’t ever do that again.”

Ez smiled up at you, “i promise I won’t. Have a good day sweetheart, let me know when you get there.”

“Yeah, yeah.” You kissed his lips again which made him lick his own.

“Mm, is that a brown sugar chapstick?”

“I have no idea. I just snatched whatever was in the night stand.” You breathed, stepping back from the man who simply nodded his head in understanding, “you heading to the club soon?”

“‘Round eleven or after. Gonna take Sally for a walk, nap and then head out,” EZ answered as he picked up his mug, “it’s your late day right?”

“Yes,” you sighed, “last client is coming in at five. Pray for me.”

“Always do.” Ez grinned, “I love when you do the braid by the way, allows me to see that prettiness in full.”

Having a good gulp of OJ you held out your hand to EZ, your wedding ring glistening in the dining room, which made him smile with fulfillment as he awaited your feedback, “keep treating me well and I might mess around and get pregnant with a real baby instead of a fur baby by new year’s.”

“Please tempt me with a good time.” Ez mentioned, sending a wink your way, making you groan and throw your head back.

Stomping out you yelled, “Bye, Ezekiel!”

“See you later!” Ez chuckled to himself, turning his attention back to his phone once you were out of his sight.

Thankful to have not only a loving husband and a automatic starter, that you forgot to start before Ez called you into the dining room, you flinched as your hands rested on the steering wheel. Immediately your hands went to mess with the knobs to crank the heat up, shaking your head at the brawny man for messing with the temperature in the car.

He was warm blooded and you were always cold. It was a whole debate inside of the house but in the car, you did not comprise despite the increase of gas prices. You couldn’t stand being cold and EZ knew that.

Checking the time again on the dashboard, you searched your glove department for your gloves, then the console, the backseat pockets, and the side holders in the doors but couldn’t find them. Sighing you threw the driver’s side door open again, allowing the winter air to bite at your cheeks as you jogged around your car and back to your home.

You just knew your gloves had to be on the bench and you previously overlooked them. Unlocking the door, which took a little bit of a tussle thanks to the cold, you made a mental note (that you would probably forget during the day) that you or EZ needed to use the WD-40 so neither of you didn’t experience a broken key again this winter.

Zoning in on the bench in the entry way, your eyes scanned the object and then you crouched down to the cubbies, feeling around for the gloves just to not locate them.

“Ez,” you called out, “have you seen my gloves? The Prada ones?”

Lifting your head, you spotted EZ standing down the hallway, your eyes shifting to Sally, your pitbull who had her paws resting up on his thighs, “Seriously? Take them off Sally.”

EZ smiled sheepishly at you as Sally peered over at you in annoyance. It was evident that your girl was sick of his mess too. He was a typical dog dad, taking the girl everywhere he could when he had the car, if you weren’t in the passenger seat you can only guess who was and forcing her into costumes when it was clear she didn’t care to be dressed up. He simply liked bothering your teenage fur baby, that’s all.

“I thought you’d be gone already and wouldn’t mind letting Sally borrow them on our walk,” Ez told you, while you stepped forward and held out your hands for the item.

Sighing Ez took them off Sally’s paws, who dropped them back to the wood floor and sat, watching the exchange.

“You got lucky this time, girl.” Ez pointed at Sally who just blinked and looked over at you.

“I know, he’s a real pain in the ass and if I had the time, I’d beat him up for you.” You told Sally who wagged her tail in response.

Ez huffed as he leaned over, slapping the gloves into your outstretched hands, “I just wanted to have a trial run with her since,” He whispered to you, “I got her some mitts for Christmas to protect her paws for our daily jogs and walks.”

“She’s not gonna wear them,” you shoved your hands into the gloves, “you know Sally trots to her own drum. She might even think they’re chew toys; you saw what she did to those Halloween costumes two months ago.”

Ez stretched at his brow, “have a little faith please. Maybe her favorite holiday is Christmas and she’ll be on her best behavior. We haven’t figured it out yet.”

“Her favorite holiday is sleeping and chewing shit up, then acting like she didn’t do it. It requires minimum effort on her part.”

Sally growled a bit before barking.

“I think you struck a nerve,” Ez joked, “and you might want to keep those gloves in the car if you know what’s good for you.”

Fanning your gloved hands at the two you spun on your heels, “On that note, I’m outta here. love you two, be good.”

“We love you too but…no promises.” Ez murmured as he smiled at your retreating form that began closing the front door, now putting a leash on Sally and giving her a good pet.

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Continue along with my December anthology prompts here.

[eddieschains]

for the prompt list, gimme “can i hold your hand?” pls 🤲🏻 joe or eddie, your choice bb

this is really short i’m sorry :( but i hope you still like it!!

i also kind of used the couple from The Start as inspo for this because i miss them

Can I Hold Your Hand?

The Stranger Things season 4 premiere. It was a big night for Joe, finally being able to share his character with the world. But, he was nervous. He’d never had such a big premiere before. He asked you to come along with him for support since you’d done a bunch of these before and of course you couldn’t say no. He even appointed you to help him with his outfit.

“All done handsome. What do you think?” You turn him to the full length mirror in your studio, smoothing out the creases in his shoulders.

He’s twisting and turning, looking at himself up and down in the mirror. “Love it. Looks great as always baby. Thank you.” He turns to you, pecking your lips softly.

“All right let’s get going then. Got a big night ahead of you.” You smile, grabbing your handbag and following him out to the car.

You opted for a plain white dress, not wanting to clash colors with him. The two of you hop in the back of the SUV with his manager and publicist in tow. As you pull into the venue, you notice Joes leg starts shaking. He only really did that when he was anxious.

“You alright babe?” You ask, placing a comforting hand on his knee.

“What? Yeah, sorry. There’s just a lot of people here.” He chuckles, looking at the crowd of fans lined up.

“Well you did pick the biggest show in the world to star in.” You laugh, kissing his cheek. He smiles at you, before looking back out the window.

The car parks, and the driver gets out to open the door. His manager and publicist exit first, making their way to the other group of management teams while you and Joe stay behind for a second.

“You ready?” You squeeze his arm.

“I guess so.” You can feel his breathing getting heavier, and a small bead of sweat gracing his forehead.

“Hey,” You grab his cheek making him look at you. “It’s gonna be okay. You’re gonna do great. And i’ll be with you the whole time if you need me to.” You kiss him one more time before he hops out of the vehicle, you right behind him.

He stops for a moment, taking in all the people that were here. Since no one really knew who he was, they weren’t paying much attention to him which he was almost grateful for.

One of the people in charge of the people coming on to the carpet approaches him, guiding him through the crowd. He looks down at you, trying not to pay attention to everyone around him.

“Can i hold your hand?” He whispers, right before you reach the carpet. You look up, smiling and locking your fingers into his.

“You never have to ask.” You feel his body start to relax under your touch.

Once you reach the carpet it’s madness. All the photographers shouting to look at them, or to do certain poses for them, the bright lights flashing excessively in both of your eyes. You let go of his hand, moving it around his waist as he does the same to you. Finally feeling more at ease with you by his side.

You finish your photo ops and he gives your hand a squeeze before moving on to some interviews. You stand off to the side, watching in awe as the media throws question after question at him. You couldn’t even explain how proud of him you were. Smiling like an idiot in the corner.

“And who’s this pretty lady you brought with you tonight?” You overhear one of the reporters ask.

He grins widely, looking over at you. “This is my beautiful girlfriend Y/N.” He motions for you to come join him, and you hesitantly walk over. “I needed some support with me today, and it doesn’t hurt that she’s my stylist as well.” You make eye contact with him, smiling so big it almost hurt.

“Oh well you two look fantastic. Have fun in there okay?” She finishes, as you both say your thank yous and walk off.

“Thank you for coming tonight. I don’t think i could’ve done it without you.”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” You smile, placing your arms around his neck and giving him the deepest kiss you could.

[watching-pictures-move]

Put On Your Raincoats | Draguse (Rhomm, 1976)

This more or less falls into porno-horror territory, which sounds like you’re getting two great flavours that taste great together, but I don’t think this is a particularly effective example of the subgenre. The horror is applied with what can be generously called a light touch. I’ve only seen one other Patrice Rhomm movie, and I’d wager that he isn’t the most forceful of stylists, and the atmosphere here is not thick enough to cut with a knife. There’s also the fact that there’s an awful lot of padding, in terms of street footage, driving footage, amusement park footage and what have you. To be honest I didn’t mind seeing Paris in the ‘70s, particularly the seedier locations the hero visits to look for inspiration for the erotic novels he’s been commissioned to write. Alas I didn’t note down all the titles of the porno movies playing at the different theatres, but it was a little jarring to see that a Planet of the Apes sequel was playing next door to a sex film.

That being said, I did enjoy this enough, in large part thanks to Monica Swinn, a regular of Jess Franco’s films. I don’t think Rhomm uses her as well as Franco, but I still found her a pleasing screen presence, and found endearing her attempts to sell the sometimes awkward, sometimes noxious material. (Rhomm’s lack of forcefulness means we get a lot more of the former than the latter. An example presents itself in the first few minutes, when the hero dreams of being seduced by Swinn, who awkwardly gyrates to jazzy music in a shot that’s framed off centre.) And more importantly, she goes through a number of amazing outfits, from various gowns that blend spooky with sexy, to a nightie that doesn’t cover her pubes, to a grey sweater and dress combo that she matches with glasses, boots and a bob.

There’s an element of genre satire here, in that the hero struggles to find inspiration for his novels and most of the sources he tries to mine are idiotic and cliché-ridden. The best stretch of the movie is when Swinn (in dowdy bob, glasses and grey combo mode) comes to help him write his books and comes up with one idea after another more devious than any he could conjure. In the hands of a better director, this could have been shaped into something with a lot more erotic charge or a sharper sense of gender commentary, but Rhomm uses it for halfassed but sort of entertaining riffs on different sexploitation scenarios. Oddly enough, I don’t think this even would have been good jerkoff material for the raincoat brigade, as most of this is softcore with some obvious stuntcocking when it goes hardcore, and in typical French porn fashion, there’s an element of humour or condescension in some of the scenes. So I don’t think any of this will shock you or get your motor running, but if you enjoy Swinn as a screen presence you should have a good enough time.

[lieonarch]

listener ocs icons

inspired by @morgansplace​ ! thank you for sharing me ur ocs’ symbols/icons i love them all very much and u did so well with them!!!

So i thought i’d made one for mine except it’s not even the redacted asmr format bc my brain is smooth and im struggling and i also like associating colors huihafuuie 

In order is my ocs Angel, Baabe, Sweetheart, Darlin’, Freelancer, and Lovely

Angel (Juneville): He’s an office worker under his older sister’s company so he wears a suit a lot. the star accessory is a gift from David and he’s worn it for a long time, David describes him as a star in the short story i wrote titled ‘stargazing’ 

Baabe (Ren): he’s a hair stylist so it’s very obvious here. the stargazer lilies are the flowers i chose to represent him, it’s also his favorite (which is kind of ironic bc the ‘ren’ is supposed to mean lotus hh) 

Sweetheart (Seeran): This looks kinda ominous doesn’t it? haha. 2 of these icons are post-inversion versions and his is one of them. The shadows show seeran’s change of view towards the world and his love for milo, him realizing that he is similar to his father who was the most hurt when his mother died. Seeran is sure that if he lost milo to the ward, he would become like his father: darkened heart.

Darlin’ (Chang He): the crescent moon is a classic, he’s a wolf and he also inputs the moon in his signature. the reflection is of a river because the ‘He’ in his name meant river and supposedly, the meaning of his full name should be smth like a freely flowing river stream, which is ironic bc he’s not free from anything it seems hh

Freelancer (Adrian): He’s raised by a close-minded family who wants him to be a stereotypical strong man who takes charge hence the sword and the chains controlling him, the sword breaking symbolizes the time he broke down in front of gavin (reference to fl s1) but the chains still holding him back could also mean that he’s still not used to being more open about his feelings, the chains are desperately trying to fix a broken sword

Lovely (Lyvel): this is the second post-inversion logo, as we all know lovely became a vampire after the inversion. The mirror represents the trope that vampires don’t have reflections, it’s cracked bc it used to show who Lyvel was before all of the empowered world hits him, a gourmet chef who was successful but now he’s losing his old identity

[wykart]

I AM LOOKING HARD AT YOUR ZENITH BETA ARTWORK I've always kind of disliked the idea of zenith!Beta because I feel like the strongest and most compelling aspect of Aloy and Beta's sibling relationship was how Aloy is Beta's Rost. She is now the few-worded, directive, somewhat brooding protector to her assigned charge. And despite the debatable blood relations, their family. It's a prefect way to wrap up Aloy's arc and showcase how deeply important they are to each other. They NEED either other. I felt like Zenith!Beta storylines took away from that because if Beta already has the skills to basically overpower the world that Aloy struggled and struggled to conquer. (This option is subjective, people are allowed to like this trope even if I normally don't.)

BUT, BUT--- The premise you have set seems SUPER FUCKING INTERESTING. The hinted at the dynamic between Beta and Tilda. OH MY GOD, and Aloy basically having to slowly "wake" Beta up from that delusion. Oh, baby. I always give extra appreciation to creaters who can take a trope/take/plot that I don't like and make me fall in love. You haven't even written anything yet (or showcased stuff u have written), yet I'm passionate about it all the same. That being said, don't pressure yourself to make this idea of yours a reality just cuz I would love to see it. It is your story and there are many more important things in life than fictional characters (unfortunately). I just wanted to take the time to let you know how much I appreciate your WIPs and works (both art and writing) <3

Hi!! Thanks!! Honestly your problem with zenith!Beta is about the same as mine (not that I’ve read anything that’s out there). She is so essential for Aloy’s development and the story of FW in general. Also I love Beta and this AU is just hey what if everything about her was different? Your point about Aloy being Beta’s Rost is also 👌

That said, this time Aloy’s realisation about not being some sorta spiritual carbon copy of an innately righteous and strong person, and that actually her family and friends and choices made her and she has an identity of her own, comes not from Beta being seemingly ‘weak’ and stuck in hopelessness and dependent on others, but from Beta acting straight up evil. This person is the opposite of everything Aloy believes Elisabet was (and therefore made her). She’s like, how could a clone of Elisabet be so apathetic? she’s so mean 😭. Forces her to look inward in other ways haha.

Then of course it’s not reaalllly like that bc Beta is so completely brainwashed that she just doesn’t get it, and Aloy slowly realises that too. She’s stunted in a very different way to canon Beta, and comes in confusion to concepts like empathy and trust and hope from an antagonistic angle rather than a compassionate one. Which makes her the most annoying person ever to exist. The Tilda relationship is also Worse. As you can imagine.

I’ve written like a tiny tiny opening for this and have some rough notes, but it’d be long :( and I’m like do I realllyyy want to write another long story about a sobeck clone interfacing w zenith tech. And Tilda, can I bear to write more of that asshole? I’m not sure. That said it would be different stylistically bc I want to do first person (idk if you’ve read the Murderbot diaries, but those are the vibes). It’s an opposite character evolution from against the lightning in a way lol. I reckon I still want to write it

Buttt many more important things than fictional characters (unfortunately), as you say. So sad. I had (was forced) to take a few weeks off work a couple months back and spent almost the whole time just writing. I was so pumped about this other story and was like surely I’ll keep this up. Haven’t fuckin looked at it. Work is 😫. And I’m looking for a new job. Ugh. I am a constant knot of anxiety.

Anyway! Thanks so much!! Feel free to dm as well if you want to discuss further haha, I’d love the excuse

[softquietsteadylove]

How about the 5+1 times thing? :D

5 times Gil protected Thena and one time She protected him

Up to you wich AU :)

It was his job to protect Thena. Technically speaking, it was his job to keep her safe and at an appropriate distance from anyone who could be a threat to her or any event tied to her or the label's reputation.

That was how his contract phrased it, at least. But his job was to protect Thena; that was how Gil phrased it.

And he took that job very seriously--always had. And there were different ways he protected her than just being her bodyguard, like most thought.

He could protect her image.

It was early on in his time working for her. They were at some awards show, and neither he nor Thena wanted to be there. But it was part of her job, which made it part of his, too. At least he didn't really have to talk to anyone, he could admit. Thena was forced to socialise with the odd interviewer or contact in the industry, much to her chagrin.

"Are you okay?" he frowned as Thena made the same pinched expression he'd seen a few times now. She kept rolling her shoulders in a way he'd never really seen her do before.

She scrunched up her mouth, obviously debating whether or not to tell him what she was thinking. They were still somewhat new to each other, after all. But she nodded him closer.

"I have to fix my dress, but these goddamn cameras are going to see every move I make."

Gil wasn't too proud to admit he blushed (just a little). He was...aware of how attractive Thena was--beautiful, really. That was part of her job, after all, and he wasn't breaching contract just by noticing that. But he didn't think of her in that way. She was a client, and also the boss of him, even if the label was technically in charge of them both.

Thena huffed quietly to herself, rolling her shoulders again.

"Here," Gil whispered, guiding her off to the side as a few other stars walked along the carpet ahead of them. He moved her in front of him, which was technically behind him, as far as the cameras were concerned. "Just hide behind me."

Thena gave him a questioning look for it, but he put his hands on his hips under his suit jacket, creating a curtain of sorts for her to fix the sparkly and skin tight dress she was wearing. He glanced over his shoulder too, just so she could have as much privacy as possible.

"Thanks," she whispered as she fidgeted with the bust of the dress. Or did whatever she had to do, because Gil was mortified at the thought of even looking at her in the moment.

He could protect her peace of mind.

"Thena, it'll be fine."

"Hey," Gil walked over to them, slipping his phone back in his pocket. Thena was on the defensive, arms crossed and angling herself somewhat away from the rest of the management team. "What's going on?"

Kingo held out a hand at her, "she just gets nervous about transportation sometimes."

Gil wondered what exactly was missing between the way Thena was acting and Kingo's vague statement. He looked at Thena, trusting that she would tell him more specifically what she needed and what had to happen to make it better. "What's wrong with what we've got?"

Thena shrugged, "nothing."

Kingo sighed, "Thena-"

Gil moved in front of her, which he could tell irked her manager/stylist greatly. But he focused on the singer folded in on herself. He nodded his head, asking her to speak in not so many words.

Thena squirmed and pursed her lips, like a kid who didn't want to go home yet. Or maybe wanted to go home right this minute. "The limo has to park on the main street. If we walk to it, there will be fans, and paparazzi, and-"

"And you can ignore them," Kingo suggested with a shrug of his shoulders.

But Gil held a hand out to him, which irked him even further. But he wasn't Gil's client (his priority), Thena was. "She's had a long day, man. And you know how they can get after a performance."

"Well, what do you suggest?"

Gil tilted his head, looking at Thena, who was both being very stubborn and trying not to make a big deal out of it. But her battery was completely empty, that much was certain. She looked ready to drop, and she probably was going to ask if they could go get greasy burgers or cheap tacos or something anyway.

"I've got an idea."

"What?" Kingo asked, but continued to go ignored by the bodyguard. He huffed, leaning past his massive shoulders to peek at Thena. "Just get home safe, and text me when you do, okay?"

She nodded, waving him and the rest of the team away. She looked at Gil, on his phone. "What did you think of?"

"You're hungry, right?" he asked her with a smirk. It stretched into a full grin when she perked up like a flower in the sunlight. "Ubers will take you through the drive-thru if they don't have another ride waiting."

That was one of the first instances of what had since become a tradition for them.

He could protect her physically.

He had done so plenty of times, obviously. He would always remember the first time that not only was he on the job, but rather when Thena actively sought him out for protection.

She wasn't even out as Athena: Goddess of Song. She was just out as Thena, with Makkari and Sersi. They were also in the music industry, of course, so it wasn't as if they could go around completely anonymous. But at the very least, they weren't at a music event, they weren't at a concert--they were just three friends out for drinks.

Thena had asked if he could be on call for the night, for when they had to get to and from different locations. He had easily agreed, not just because it was part of the job, but also because it was Thena; she would be socially exhausted by the third bar anyway. If anything, he was prepared to pick them up and get them all drive-thru on the way back to Thena's penthouse.

But Thena called him from the bathroom of the second bar. Apparently someone in there had recognised her and was being pretty aggressive about getting a photo - and her number - and meeting her friends. Without a proper escape route, she had called him.

And Gil arrived ready for a fight. The nerve of some creeps in this part of town astounded him. He easily found the guy, leaning against the wall outside the bathrooms, just as Thena had assumed he would be. Didn't the club have any security of their own?!

"Hey brother, I'm just waiting for my girlfriend t-"

Gil gave him a swift crack in the jaw, his fist sending the guy to the floor in the blink of an eye. He shook out his fist afterward, although his knuckles were well conditioned for impact. "Prick."

He knocked on the door, leaning his ear close, "Thena? It's me. Are you-"

She pushed the door open, nearly pushing it right into him. But she rushed right to him, her forehead pressed to his chest at the earliest opportunity. "Thank you."

Gil heard her loud and clear despite the head-rattling music from the dance floor. He folded his arms around her, knowing that no matter how much she didn't want to show it, that it was one of her worst nightmares to find herself in a situation like that. He pressed his cheek to her hair, "it's okay. I've got you."

He could even protect her from herself--in a way.

"Thena," he called her name for the umpteenth time, watching her pace the floor of her dressing room so consistently he was worried the rug would go bald. "It will be fine."

She wasn't listening to him. She wasn't listening to anything but whatever her head was screaming at her. And it was never kind things, Gil had come to learn.

She was picking at the cuticles around her press-on manicure, since she couldn't chew the fake nails. If she were sitting her knee would be bouncing a mile a minute. In not time at all she would start muttering aloud to herself.

"Thena," he tried again. He had been trying since he got her in the car, though. There was almost no winding her down from this point before a performance. Almost.

Thena grumbled as he planted himself directly in the path of her pacing. She tried to move around him but he trapped her in his arms against him. She huffed. "This is a little over the line, no?"

"So file a complaint," he chuckled, still holding her to his chest. He took a few deep breaths, deliberately letting his chest expand and contract against her.

Despite her attempt to remain cranky, she slowly fell into the same rhythm, her heartbeat slowing and her breathing becoming more even and more in sync with his.

"That's it," he whispered, running a hand over her hair. There was nothing he could say to comfort her in these moments. They would be as good as empty words to her anyway. The only thing that mattered to Thena were results. But to get the results she wanted, she had to be in the right mindset to perform in the first place. "You'll be great."

Thena sighed, dropping her head to his chin with a slight bonk. She would be burying her face right in his shirt if not for her full face of makeup. "You don't know that."

"You've got a pretty good track record so far," Gil shrugged. He didn't have to argue with her with false promises; Thena believed in results, and her popularity spoke for itself. "I'll be here waiting."

But his favourite part of the job was actually the part that was taking care of her. It wasn't actively protecting her from anything--maybe protecting her from burnout.

But it was things like carrying her after a long day in ridiculously tall heels when she was exhausted. It was knowing exactly what her order was at every fast food place in town, or coming over to make her breakfast when he knew she was sleeping until two in the afternoon after a performance. It was buying her medicine when she was sick; it was even running regular old errands for her.

He had come to like tucking her in when she was asleep and already snoring by the time he got her in bed (he had never told her she snored, just a little). He liked running hot baths for her so she could have a soak while he made a nice nutritious dinner for them (fast food was only for after performances). He liked that he spent more time at her place than his, these days.

He liked protecting her from the job.

Gil frowned as Thena's phone buzzed on the coffee table. She was in the shower, losing track of time as she sang to herself with the help of the steam stretching out her vocal chords. "Hello?"

"Gil?--I called Thena."

"Yeah, and I'm answering," Gil set down his breakfast burrito and got up for his own phone, left by the stove. "It's her day off--what's going on?"

"I know, I know, I'm sorry."

If he were really sorry then why was he calling?

"The label got a call from Ikaris' management team. Remember that piece she recorded with him?"

"Yeah," Gil murmured. He knew the piece personally--he had helped Thena rehearse it in this very spot.

"They want her to make a guest appearance at one of his shows he's doing on his tour--over in the UK."

Usually artists would just contact each other personally and let management figure out the details for them once they were or weren't in agreement over it. But then again, Thena and Ikaris weren't exactly friends. Friends through Sersi, and perhaps frenemies with a playful rivalry between them. But it made sense that Ikaris knew better than to slide into Thena's DMs. Not that she would know what that meant.

"We can talk about it tomorrow."

"Gil, come on, I wouldn't be calling if they weren't expecting an answer today."

"So tell them she's sick, or she's on vocal rest or some shit," Gil argued. He could hear Kingo getting frustrated with him. It wasn't that they experienced friction that often, and they were both part of Thena's team, and her friends. Gil considered Kingo his friend.

But if it was between Kingo or Thena, obviously he chose Thena.

"Gil-"

"Kingo," Gil pressed, his voice softening as he heard the faint fluttering of Thena's voice. She had left the door cracked; her trust in him was incalculable. "She's exhausted from the show this weekend. She really needs today to just...chill, okay? I promise first thing tomorrow, I'll get her on a call with his label. But today is all hers."

Kingo sighed loudly - dramatically - into his end of the phone. "You're a little too good at your job, you know that?"

Gil smiled to himself, "I take that as a compliment."

"I'm sure you do, Gil. Fine, I'll tell them she's on doctor ordered silence. Just make sure to bring it up in the email so it doesn't sound like uncorroborated bullshit."

"Will do," Gil promised before the call ended. He swiped the notification of it away. It was still in the phone's logged calls, but Thena never looked at that anyway. He set her phone down again, resuming his task of finishing his burrito.

"Who was that?"

Gil smiled, licking his lips as he finished up his last bite. "Just Kingo--nothing that can't wait until tomorrow."

"Are you sure?" she tilted her head, but she hadn't knotted up at the mere mention of work.

She had come a long way since he had first started working for her. "I'm sure."

She could even protect him.

"What the hell is going on here?!"

Gil was being visibly mauled by a horde of fans. They were mostly young, all significantly smaller than him, most of them appearing female. And of course Gil wasn't in the habit of fighting children.

"All of you!" Thena barked at them, storming over without a second thought to her initial desire to find their ride and go right home. "Get off him!"

Gil groaned as Thena pulled him from the grips of the crowd previously shaking and clawing at him. He even had a few scratches on his face.

"What the hell happened here?" she asked him, although the crowd around them was still rioting at them. She backed up with Gil tucked against her side.

"They're fans of Eros'," he sighed heavily, leaning against her. At least, he was until she moved him behind her. "Thena?"

"Get the hell away from him!" she bellowed, knowing exactly how to shout at them loudly and with a sustainable strength in her voice. "I cannot believe you would attack him like this!"

"He deserves it!"

"He punched Eros right in the face!"

"You should've had him fired!"

Thena's back raised, her shoulders tensing. She took a step forward, ready to get in a screaming match with a child.

"Thena, come on," Gil held her hand in his. He was spent from defending himself (which meant letting them tear a strip off of him and not fighting back at all). "Leave them be."

Thena all but growled at the gaggle of little monsters glaring at them. She had no concern what they thought of her. "You should be ashamed of yourselves for attacking an innocent man."

"He's the one who attacked an innocent man!"

"Come on," Gil urged Thena again, before she could argue that Eros was the instigator, which would be a pretty clear and direct breach of their agreement with his team to keep the whole thing quiet. "Just ignore them."

Thena did finally turn away from his assailants. She raised a hand to his face, brushing over a slightly swollen cheek, "what did they do to you?"

"Please," he chuckled, brushing off literally being mauled by a riot. "They're just a bunch of kids."

"If that's his most devoted fanbase, it does nothing to increase my confidence in Eros' character as a person," Thena scoffed.

"This will all blow over soon," Gil murmured, not that he was entirely sure that was true. He looked back at the crowd still booing him as they walked back to the car waiting for them. He walked closer to Thena, pulling her ahead of him--which was technically behind him to them.

Thena reached behind her, finding his hand naturally and slipping her fingers against his. "I'm sorry."

He gave her hand a squeeze in return, smiling despite the soreness of his swollen lip. "You have nothing to be sorry about."

"Still," she whispered, pulling him to walk beside her properly. She squeezed his hand even harder, "are you okay?"

"I'll be fine," he promised her, smiling genuinely despite his little scratches and scrapes. She frowned at him, openly doubting him. But he leaned forward, pressing a kiss to her forehead, "I'm sure."

[chaewandz]

ROSE — chapter 03: Awks green rooms…

“so are we all wearing black?” joonie asked, adjusting her dress in y/n’s dressing room mirror.

“yup.” y/n turned and smiled.

“you look beautiful. but shouldn’t you be wearing a different color? this is your event y/nnie, shouldnt you be standing out?” joonie ran her hands along the smooth fabric of y/n’s dress.

“I have a plan.” y/n winked and brushed joonie’s loose strands of hair away from her face. “are you almost ready?”

joonie nodded and the pair linked arms, walking out of y/n’s dressing room to meet with the producers.

“I don’t think I know how to tie a tie actually…” jake laughed lightly, somewhat embarrassed.

“let me do it for you, sir.” the stylist quickly made his way over to jake to assist him.

on the other side of the room, heeseung stood facing the mirror, fixing his hair over and over again.

“it looks the same.” jake whispered.

heeseung spun around in an instant, placing his hands on his hips.

“only joking!” jake lifted his hands in the air in defense.

heeseung spun around again, fixing his hair in the full length mirror for the final time.

“where do you think the other guys are?” jake asked, thanking the stylist as he left the lee-sim dressing room.

“probably in rooms just like this one. do you think they’re alone?” heeseung questioned, now joining jake on the couch.

“who knows. maybe they know each other as well?”

heeseung shrugged his shoulders and the two returned to a comfortable silence, waiting until someone in charge would enter their room giving directions.

“you five will be entering the carpet area first, as a pair and a trio. you can decide the order amongst yourselves. then once you reach the carpet, the princess will go forward on her own to get her solo images and the rest of you will follow. then once you’re finished you will return to your dressing rooms and the suitors will walk the carpet. there is a tv in each room so you can all watch live. sound good?” the producer thoroughly explained the process, clipboard in hand as the girls huddled around him.

the group nodded and the producer smiled.

“alright you guys can just relax here and I’ll give you the cue when we go on air. good luck ladies!” he then bowed and was gone in an instant.

“he’s nice.” youngeun noted, following the man with her eyes as he exited the premises.

y/n nodded, also watching the producer leave.

“so what order should we go in?” isa asked.

joonie suddenly clung to y/n’s side.

“alright then I guess that leaves us three together” sakura announced, laughing as she linked her arms with isa and youngeun.

y/n laughed as well, patting joonie’s head.

“mate. bruv. lad. cheers! innit.” beomgyu paced the floors repeating different british slang.

“beomgyu, when I say this I’m coming to you as a friend. please. shut the fuck up.” taehyun whisper-yelled from the couch.

“I second that.” hueningkai added, fixing the cuffs on his suit.

“how is it that we all wound up being picked. this isn’t a prank right? what if we’re gonna get kidnapped… see this is why I need to be british. that way y/n will know I’m nothing more than a small innocent boy who is in need of protection. therefore, she will save me and leave you all to suffer within the walls of this place.” beomgyu continued to pace the floors.

“I hope she eliminates you first.” hueningkai muttered.

“same.” taehyun added.

“ok well jokes on you two when she picks me and you have to watch our wedding from your couch!” beomgyu began practicing his red carpet poses in the mirror as he spoke.

hueningkai and taehyun exchanged glances, both communicating something along the lines of “that would never happen.”

“niki can you take my picture- this photo is going to be so good at parties after y/n and I are married.” sunghoon insisted as he adjusted his hair.

“absolutely not.” niki scoffed. “this is every man for himself! plus if you wanted photos maybe you shouldn’t have been such assholes at the shoot last week.”

“ok well that was sunghoon and not me so- how about my photo instead?” sunoo batted his eyelashes, his face resting in the palms of his hands.

niki just rolled his eyes and retied his shoes for the fourth time that hour. it kept him calm for about five minutes, then he’d unite and tie his shoes again.

“you’ll just have to settle for the red carpet photos I’m afraid.” niki shrugged his shoulders.

“what if I were to show y/n your yearbook photo from junior year. like what would you do in that entirely most definitely hypothetical situation?” yeonjun proposed.

“YOU WOULDNT.” soobin nearly launched into the air.

“you’d be surprised.” yeonjun declared, a mischievous grin on his face.

“then I’ll just tell her all about your great triumphs at rugby! like the time where it was raining and you slipped and fell on your face so hard you had to be dragged off the pitch in tears.” soobin retorted, giggling.

“WELL THERE WAS NO WAY NOT TO SLIP IN THAT LEVEL OF RAIN. i for one think she’d find it cute!”

soobin let out a stifled laugh.

“let me fix your tie, it’s all kinds of wrong.”

yeonjun laughed as soobin leaned forward to fix it.

the two then patted each other on the back, a way of wishing good luck.

“jay you can’t possibly be mad at me.” jungwon leaned over the back of the couch.

“you’re right. why would I be mad that my best friend secretly went after my crush of fourteen years and is now about to steal her from me right in front of my eyes!” jay threw his phone aside, almost yelling at jungwon.

“I really thought our friendship meant more than a girl.” jungwon whispered, now sat next to jay on the leather couch.

“it does. which is why I’m so pissed. i thought you respected me enough to not potentially sabotage my one chance with the girl of my dreams. guess I was wrong.” jay lowered his voice, clearly more hurt than he was angry.

jungwon just sat and stared at jay, unsure of what to do as jay refused to make eye contact.

suddenly the door opened, revealing a man in a headset holding a clipboard. the two perked their heads up towards the door in sync.

“we’re ready for you guys!” the man announced, grinning.

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author’s note: are we ready for the red carpet ladies and gentlemen🤭 joonie and y/n are so cute☹️what are our thoughts on jay and jungwons drama.. is jay being dramatic or is jungwon a bit of a snake guys.. it’s truly a bit of both! also I wonder what y/n’s plan is hmmmm🤔 I guess we must wait and see! also sorry for taking so long !! was waiting for my best friend/editor to review it 👍

taglist: (open!!) @cwsana @emoworu @strwberrydinosaur @justbored48 @flwrsforriki @deafeningballoonnacho

send an ask to be added!!

synopsis: after she turns 18, y/n’s parents arrange a competition for young suitors in her town to compete for her love, a family tradition that brought about her parents’ marriage. twelve men are selected, but who will win her heart?