#the stylist will unfortunately be shot

[walshball]

Mary…

[joshslater]

Emergency Model

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"Excuse me, what's your shoe size?"

Bewildered I looked around to find the man who asked the random question, like out of that old episode of Monty Python. Off to the side, almost behind me, was a thirty-ish man in polo shirt, jeans, and glasses with plastic rims that looked purposefully selected to make him look like a film director or architect. He looked unsure or stressed. "Eight, eight and a half. Who's asking?"

Immediately he brightened up. "Hello. I'm Ben Atkinson, " he said and extended his hand. "We're making a photo shoot of the supplemental collection of sporting clothes," he continued without waiting for me to shake it. "It's all for the online shop, so simple stuff. White background, a few poses." Tentatively I shook his hand. "Pretty fast rotation of models. Unfortunately one of them has called in sick. You have the right look, but more importantly the right build and size."

"Uhum," I answered, sensing where this was going. It was a Saturday morning, and I was on my way to meet up with some friends at Wayland's Deli.

"This is quite sudden, but we are on a tight deadline. If you're willing to model for us I'll give you twice the normal rate."

"Ok," I said, not waiting to hear what the normal rate was. I'm sure Stuart would not stop giving me grief about it for the rest of the year, but I would technically be a photo model which wouldn't be a negative in Sarah's eyes. Turned out that it would also be double my monthly earnings as well, so maybe I could shut Stuart up as well.

We entered the building, which apparently was an office space that had been taken over for the day for the shoot. There were racks of clothes everywhere, lots of people with iPads tracking what item was where, who should wear it, and in what conference room they should shoot it. It was bustling with activity. After some exchange of information with Ben, and signing papers, I was handed over to a conference room turned makeup and styling studio. Most of the furniture was stacked in one corner and the floor was covered by transparent plastic that had been rolled out. To one side was a table with lots of makeup tools and bottles and stuff I wouldn't know how to use, except maybe the hand mirror and the scissors, and even that I'm not confident with. A pair of strong LED lamps on stands lit a chair placed at the center of the plastic. 

"I'm Julia, pleased to meet you. So you are the last one," said the stylist, carefully surveying me and in particular my face and hair. "We're short on time, so we have to work quickly. Are you ok with a buzz cut and tight fade?" Not what I would have chosen, but it's starting to get warm outside and it's only hair. I'd be back to my current length after the summer. "Sure."

She seated me in the chair and began the work with a corded trimmer, and soon a flurry of detail work with smaller trimmers and some of her tools from the table. Probably took her about ten minutes for the haircut. Then some time with a straight razor blade and a tweezer to pluck and shave all over my face and then arms. I told her that this was all new to me, having literally just been picked from the street. She reassured me that there wasn't much to it. Just be no-nonsense about it. Take whatever the stylist decides, change clothes quickly, do the poses the photographer asks for, and repeat.

"All done," she said and handed me the hand mirror as if I had any say in this. I looked so different than just moments before. The hair was shorter than I've ever had it, with a razor sharp fringe line. The fade on the sides was basically just an inch tall from the head and down the temple, then skin tight down, and presumably the same around the back of the head as well. The total amount of hair I was left with could fit a shot glass. "If you go down the corridor to the break room there is a shower in the bathroom there. Ask Andy outside to let you in. Take a quick rinse to get rid of stray hairs, change into these, put your stuff in one of the plastic boxes there, and come back to me for a final touch-up." She handed me a pair of white briefs and white socks. I hesitated a bit, and she was quick to jump ahead of my thoughts. "Everyone around here are used to see gorgeous bodies without clothes. Act as if it is normal, because to us it is. You can't be self-conscious. Oh, and Andy is the only one with a key, so your valuables are safe." Another boy showed up at the door saying he needed a new application. I told Julia thanks and went to look for Andy.

Andy unlocked the door to the office lunch room for me and I did as Julia had told me. I stripped naked and put everyting, clothes, wallet, phone, keys, shoes, into one of the plastic boxes, wrote my name on it with a whiteboard marker and placed it next to all the other boxes. Eight boxes in total. I went into the bathroom, took a 90 seconds shower, and dried myself off with one of the towels from the pile. I put on the briefs and socks, had Julia apply her things to me, and within ten minutes I was dressed in Nike shoes, joggers, and a fleece hoodie, being ordered by a photographer who didn't have time to introduce himself to look left, turn around, put my hands in my pockets, pull up the hood, sit down on the floor, and on and on. Then out change, and back with the next item.

It was going non-stop since they were behind on my stuff, so I had barely time to talk to anyone. There wasn't any proper lunch break either, just a protein bar together with two of the other models, Mark and Andrew. At first they thought it was funny that I had just been snatched off the street for the shoot, but when I told them how much more money I got they were like "fuck you, go back to work". Well the break was over anyway, so I don't know how serious they were.

It continued with item after item, until I realized I was the only model left. The others had taken off without saying goodbye, not that we had any relation. People were moving things out of the office, and when I asked about the hurry they said there was a firm deadline when they had to be out so the cleaning crew could put everything back to a working office again. I could feel the pressure as it was my item changes that held up everyone. I swapped into a pair of MRKNTN underwear that probably was like half a size too small but decided to just power through with the shoot. As soon as the last photo had been taken, they started to dismantle the light rigs. As I walked back to the lunch room I could see that most of the clothes racks were gone. The makeup room was back to looking like a conference room. I couldn't find Andy anywhere though, and the lunch room with my stuff was still locked. I wanted my stuff for sure, but more importantly I wanted to get out of the underwear that kept squeezing and chafing. I couldn't go more than 30 seconds without having my hands down the joggers to adjust them.

Ben wasn't anywhere to be seen either. I asked one of the remaining people and he said they had all left, working on getting all the stuff back and preparing the "delivery pipeline" for the photos. Probably Andy had checked off everyone from his list, and it was printed before I was recruited. "Just keep the clothes you have on and you can come back here Monday and pick up your stuff," he said.

Fuck.

No point in hanging around any longer. Everyone wanted to leave as soon as possible, so I just left and headed towards the bus stop. It was getting late and with no phone on me I couldn't call home and say what was going on.

Fuck.

I didn't have anything to pay the bus fare with. I could perhaps go back to the office building and see if I could catch anyone exiting, use their phone, and call for someone to pick me up. But there was no telling if and when I would get hold of anyone. Just walking back there would make me miss the next bus, so that would set me back at least an hour. I could just as well ask someone else to use their phone. Or perhaps ask them to cover the bus fare.

That's when I saw them, a little bit further down the street, past the bus stop. Six boys huddled at the corner, talking and messing around as if no one else was around. One had a bike. All of them dressed in the kind of clothes I had spent all day modeling in, track suits, hoodies, trainers. All of them were smoking. I figured I'd have as good a chance with them as with anyone else now, looking the way I looked.

As I was getting closer one of them alerted the others and they had some kind of conversation about me. "Hello, excuse me. Could I borrow money for the bus fare from any of you?" There was a second of silence before a mixed snicker erupted, and one of them answered "No, bruv. I don't think so."

I don't know why, but for some reason I was mortified by how I had been dismissed. I could feel my face turning red, so I quickly turned away from them to make my way back to the bus stop, without any plan of what to do next.

"Oi, bruv!" I heard from behind me. Looking back at them I could see three boys had gotten up and were heading my way. "Callum's grafting down at the barber's for some extra quid and need someone to practice on. What if he can do some practice while we cover the fare and take you home safely? Fair, innit?"

"I barely have any hair," I said and let my hand touch my fresh skin fade, almost shocking myself with how radically different it felt.

"Won't be much of a nick then, bruv."

He was right. There wasn't much he could ruin. I had only a few millimeters of hair so in the worst case scenario I could shave completely and it would be back within the week.

"Good lad. A deal innit."

"Yes," I said, unsure if it was expected. The guy who had spoken and Callum flanked me while the third lad walked behind me, enveloping me with the scent of smoke and body spray. After a silent moment the guy spoke again, introducing himself as Iwan and the third guy as Rob, and asked where I lived. I gave him the bus stop, Hillside Garden North, about 18 minutes ride. Would have been busy during the week, but at weekends there wouldn't be many on the bus.

We didn't have to wait long for the bus to arrive, but instead of entering by the driver they all bunched up again with me in the middle and entered through the exit doors as a single unit. Then they quickly moved to the back of the bus and pushed me into a seat next to Callum, facing Iwan and Rob in the furthest back seat. I half expected the driver to say something over the speakers, but there was barely a delay, if any, before the bus was moving as if nothing was out of the ordinary. I looked at Iwan with perhaps a bit of surprise and he just shrugged as if to say "what did you expect? That the driver would confront us?"

Then he nodded at Callum next to me, backpack in his lap, who answered "Aye" and got up. He placed the bag on the seat and positioned himself right in front of me, one leg on either side of mine, his knees hitting the edge of the seat, and his left hand grabbing the rail behind me. It felt both imposing and intimate. He opened the backpack and rummaged around with his right hand until he found a small trimmer in a zip-lock bag.

He opened it with both hands and threw the plastic bag into the backpack. Then he looked out and waited for the bus to drive on straight and even road before he turned the trimmer on. Then slowly he moved it in an arched line from my temple and along the side of my head until he reached the neck. Then he studied for a few seconds before he made a few additional buzzes along the same line.

"Not bad, innit?" he said while shifting his body so Iwan and Rob could see. "Fucking mint, mate," Iwan answered.

Then he turned on the trimmer again and unexpectedly extended the line by buzzing my eyebrow for a few seconds. I hadn't even considered my eyebrows. Callum reached into his backpack again to put the trimmer in the zip-lock, but without moving his feet so his body pressed even closer to me. While I couldn't see much, I could certainly feel his body spray filling my nostrils while I felt my eyebrows with my fingers. I guess there would be a lot to explain to mother anyway, so this would just be yet another detail.

I could just see it for a fraction of a second. It looked like a small glue gun in off-white plastic. Then before I could realize what it was it was pressed against my ear, it made a snapping sound, and I felt a sharp pain. "What the!" I said, more in surprise than pain.

"18G piercing. Hurts more, heals slower, but much better," Callum offered, as if it was the type of piercing that was in question, not that he had done it at all. He reloaded the piercing gun and I struggled with what to do. Just take it like the first one? Why should I? But then one piercing was the real threshold. Once you pass that, two is if anything better than one. This would soon be over anyway.

He was just as quick with the second one as the first one. "These need to stay in 30 days, you hear me?" he said, still standing essentially on top of me. "Yes, I understand," I said with a sinking feeling of all the implications. He put the gun back into the bag and went searching for something again. Finally he pulled out some sort of pliers, then held my earlobe with one hand while doing something with the pliers with the other. "Making sure they don't fall off," he explained before sitting down again on his seat. I could see Iwan and Rob again, and booth looked pleased. Iwan looked absolutely chuffed. "Fucking proper, innit" he said and pat me hard on the shoulder. "Fucking proper."

After than Iwan opened up and started to ask me all kinds of questions, starting with my name, which I realized I hadn't given him when he presented everyone. I was soon giving the highlights of the day as a photo model until we arrived my stop. To my surprise everyone got off with me. "Said we would take you home safe." We continued to chat all the way home and it turned out me Iwan and Rob had the same taste in electronic music while Callum was more of a rock guy.

"Ok, this is my stop," I said once we reached my house. "Meet us Monday, same time and place," Iwan said. "What?" "You owe us £2 for the bus, bruv." "But..." "You going back on our deal?" "No, I'll come by." "And wear the same clothes. Underwear too." "No! I have classes." "You'll figure it out, bruv." Callum opened his backpack again and tossed something to Iwan. "And use this," he said and handed over a can of Lynx Jungle body spray. "What if I don't? What if I don't do any of that?" "Where you live isn't a secret, innit? See you Monday, bruv."

[pulisicsgirl]

gonna be the death of me - mason mount

summary: as his publicist, Y/N is willing to do whatever Mason needs to make him comfortable at his latest sponsored photoshoot

pairing: Mason Mount x publicist!reader

word count: 2.4k

warnings/tags: no established relationship, suggestive language, sexual tension(??), they're both down so badly for each other it's insane

requested: no

notes: surprise!!! I think I speak for all of us when I say we were caught completely off-guard by Mason's new Nike ad... 🫣 But anyway, I was inspired by it to write out a blurb or two, but this one just kept going and it turned into a full-length fic 🤭 So... enjoy?? Also, I couldn't pick only one picture for this fic so please enjoy both of these

As a publicist, there was nothing unusual about you attending an event with one of your clients. Especially when it was for a sponsored ad that you’d had a large part in organizing. But something about this one felt different—a nervous, fluttery feeling in your chest as you walked in the front doors.

Maybe it was the fact that it was Mason, a client of yours that you maybe fancied just a teeny tiny little bit, no matter how hard you tried to convince others that it wasn’t the case.

Or maybe it was the fact that the partnership you had organized for him involved him modeling in nothing but his underwear.

Yeah, it was probably that.

In an effort to remain professional, you had done everything in your power to remain cool and collected that day. You had waited for Mason to arrive, meeting him at the doors before the two of you strolled into the building to determine what needed to be done and where he needed to go.

If Mason was honest with himself, he felt like he was a bit out of his depth with this photoshoot. He had never even been someone to parade himself around topless, let alone in only some tight-fitting underwear.

He had agreed to the shoot months ago, when things hadn’t been going so well for him. He had been struggling with his transfer to a new team and thought that maybe trying something new was just what he needed to snap him out of it. Unfortunately, it had taken quite some time to iron out the details, and now Mason’s nerves were getting the best of him.

So when one of the staff involved in the Nike shoot had approached him, a bottle of body oil in her hands, his stomach sunk to his feet. He only half listened as she explained that it would make the shots look more appealing.

“We understand that this can be a bit uncomfortable, so if you’d like to have someone from your team that you’re more familiar with help you apply it, that would be completely fine. If not, one of the stylists can assist you.” She gestured toward the team of people who had put a few light touches of makeup on his face just about 20 minutes ago.

The Nike team had been nothing but wonderful and accommodating with Mason the entire day, and he really appreciated the effort they had put into making him feel comfortable. He was momentarily relived by the alternative he had been offered, but the relief was short-lived when he realized that the only person on his “team” was you.

The staff member guided him to a cozy dressing room just off the hallway from the main area and explained that he could change and leave his things in this room until the photoshoot was over. There were a few sets of the underwear that he would be modeling laid out for him and a robe hanging to the left of the door.

Mason changed and spent the entire time trying to convince himself to just have one of the Nike staff help him. He didn’t want to make things weird. Part of him did want you to rub your hands all over his body, but he didn’t want the first time you did it to be for something like this.

No matter how much Mason tried to muster up the courage, he just couldn’t shake the way that the idea of a complete stranger oiling him up just compounded the nerves he was feeling, to the point that it made him feel sort of sick.

So minutes later, he was approaching you, body covered by the robe that they had provided for him. You noticed, as he shuffled in your direction, that he was fiddling with his fingers, a nervous habit of his. That, combined with the sheepish look he gave you as he stopped at your side, confirmed that he was feeling a bit anxious.

“Hey, Mase. You doing okay?”

Mason had to ignore the way his heart fluttered at both the nickname and the expression of concern on your face.

“Um, yeah, I-“ he started, stumbling over his words a bit. “If I’m honest, I’m pissing myself at the moment.”

Your eyebrows drew together in sympathy, knowing how difficult it must be to be paraded around like this.

“You’re going to do amazing, okay?” you smiled at him, and he only nodded in response. As he shifted back and forth on his feet, you knew there was something else on his mind.

“Um, could you… could you actually do something for me?”

“Anything, Mase. What do you need?”

Having worked with numerous high-profile clients, you learned that when a client asked for something, the answer was always “yes” and if it was something you couldn’t do… well you needed to figure out how to do it anyway. But Mason had never been one to give you much trouble. He had always been extremely kind and considerate of you.

“This is, um… well it’s a bit strange, and if you want to say no that’s completely fine, but,” he paused, taking a brief glance up at your face before he spoke quickly so he didn’t chicken out. “They gave me this oil I need to put over my chest and back and everything and they said I could have someone from my team apply it so it would be someone I’m comfortable with.”

He took another short pause as he tried to gauge your reaction. Your heart skipped a beat as you realized what he was saying. He must have noticed the slight falter in your expression.

His team… you’re his entire team today. He means you.

“If you don’t want to, it’s completely okay. I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t—”

“Mason, it’s okay,” you rested your hand on his shoulder to reassure him. “I’ll take care of it. Don’t worry.”

“Are you sure?” he asked, still feeling a bit hesitant. “I would really appreciate it. I’m just… I’m feeling a bit nervous about the whole thing, and I’m not overly fond of the idea of a stranger putting their hands all over my body.”

But you are fond of the idea of me putting my hands all over your body?

You mentally slapped yourself, trying to rid your mind of the filthy thoughts that were running through it.

“Don’t worry about it, Mason,” you smiled at him reassuringly, masking the way that your heart felt like it was going to leap out of your throat. “That’s what I’m here for, right?”

That was absolutely not what you were there for.

So that was how you found yourself following Mason into the dressing room that Nike had set up for him.

You couldn’t help the little flutter in your heart as you noticed that, rather than leaving them on the floor, he had neatly folded his clothes in a pile and placed them on a table in the corner of the room. You weren’t sure why that small detail affected you the way that it did.

Mason untied the belt of the robe, slipping it from his shoulders and tossing it over the back of the chair. You cast your eyes to the floor, suddenly feeling flustered at the sight of his nearly naked body, covered by only a tight-fitting pair of boxer briefs that left very little to the imagination.

It blew your mind that anyone who looked like he did could be feeling nervous or insecure about showing himself off. But Mason was merely human, after all, like anyone else.

You did your best to be as calm and causal about the situation as you possibly could. Mason approached the large vanity in the room, pointing you to the bottle of oil he had been instructed to apply to his body sitting on the counter in front of the mirror. You unscrewed the cap, placing a bit in your hand and telling Mason that you would start with his back.

You figured starting there would give you a moment to collect yourself before you had to look at him, face-to-face.

You rubbed the small amount of oil between your palms to warm it before placing them flat over Mason’s back and the touch of his skin on yours felt like an electric shock. You didn’t miss the way that the muscles in his back tensed slightly when you first touched him.

You spread the oil over the soft skin, from his shoulders, down to his waist. As you rubbed it into his lower back, you couldn’t help but admire how the underwear he was modeling hugged his bum.

No! Stop! Get it together, Y/N!

You tried to force yourself to think of anything else—anything other than Mason and his bum and the fact that you were oiling up his naked back.

You began analyzing the kind of oil they were using for the shoot (you had to come up with something, right?). It was sort of light and didn’t make his skin look greasy, like a swimsuit model or anything. It more so had the appearance like he had done a light workout and worked up a thin layer of sweat.

I can think of a few activities we could do to work up a sweat…

You shook your head, trying to snap yourself out of whatever this effect was that Mason was having on you.

Deciding that his back was finished, you stepped around to Mason’s front, pouring a bit more of the oil into your palms and running your hands over his arms.

Then, the only bit left to do was the bit that you didn’t know if you would survive… his chest and stomach.

You discreetly tried to take a deep breath, biting the inside of your cheek as you started at the top of his shoulders, brushing your hands over his collarbones before your hands drifted lower. You felt the heat rushing into your cheeks.

Mason prayed silently that you couldn’t feel the way his heart was hammering in his chest as your palms smoothed over his skin. He felt like every inch of him was on fire as you touched him in a way that was more intimate than you ever had before.

But as he tried to focus on anything other than how much you were putting him on edge, Mason glanced down to your face and realized he wasn’t alone in how he felt.

He watched as your cheeks burned bright red and you refused to look even remotely close to his face. He felt suddenly a bit lighter at the realization that you were just as tense as he was.

“I thought I was supposed to be the one that was nervous here,” he mumbled quietly, attempting to break the tension in the room.

He could tell you were fighting the grin that took over your face almost immediately. “Oh shut up, you,” you tried to keep up appearances, but it fell flat and Mason could read you easily. You both giggled softly.

You finished up the last bit of his torso, smoothing your hands down his sides, over his Champions League tattoo that you tried to admire without him noticing, and across his tummy. You noted the tiny mole on the upper part of his stomach, swiping a finger over it as you brushed the last bit of oil onto him.

You took one step back from him. “Alright, I think that should do it,” you spoke as you tried to wipe at an itch on your face with the back of your hand.

Mason noticed a shining spot of oil that you left behind. He stepped forward, nearly closing the gap between you as he lifted a hand, wiping it off of the tip of your nose with his thumb.

You gazed up at his face, unable to get away with just gluing your eyes to his torso the way you had been before. The look in his eyes was unreadable as he dropped his hand from your mouth to your jaw, just slightly pulling your lower lip down with his thumb, watching your reaction closely.

The tension between the two of you could’ve been cut by a knife. You felt as though you had stopped breathing as the you stood there, neither daring to make a single sound. Your eyes darted around his face, taking in all of the features you had never noticed before. His hand continued caressing your jaw as you held your hands cautiously on either side of him, afraid to make more of a mess with your oil-covered hands.

Abrupt knocking on the door of the dressing room caused you both to jump, snapping out of the sort of trance you had been in.

“We’re ready for you in 5!” a voice shouted from the other side of the door.

Both of you took a step back from each other, suddenly aware of how close you had been standing. Mason cleared his throat and scratched the back of his neck as he tried to gather himself.

“Will you be alright?” you asked, remembering how nervous he had been feeling just a few minutes ago.

“Y-Yeah, I-“ he hesitated for a moment. “Yeah,” he repeated, this time a little more certain.

Seeing how flustered you had been at seeing him the moment he had taken off the robe and how you had blushed at your fingers touched his skin had been the confidence boost he needed to be a little more sure of himself. Seeing the way that you had reacted to him made him feel ready to go out and do the photoshoot.

You watched a soft smile pass over his face, and you wondered what could possibly be going on in that gorgeous head of his.

“Alright,” you giggled at his expression, now seeming much lighter than he had before. “I guess you should head on out. I’ll clean up here and then I’ll be right there.”

Mason nodded, slipping the robe back over his shoulders before he turned to walk out of the room.

With the sudden boost of confidence, he spun on his heel, dipping his head to place a quick kiss on your cheek, and then he was out the door before you had the chance to react.

Your eyes went wide as you took a moment to process everything that had just happened. When you turned to the vanity to begin tidying up, you caught sight of your beet red cheeks. You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath as the biggest grin took over your face.

This boy was certainly going to be the death of you…

tag list:@landoslover @thoseboysinblue @lovelynikol16 @swimmingismywholelife @masonsrem @bracedes @neverinadream @lizzypotter14 @notsoattractivearenti @chilwellspulisic @mm-vii @10vnderhaze

[be-with-me-so-happily]

There At The Box

ONE SHOT

|| Prev - The Grammys ||

Summary: After reuniting at the Grammys, it is now time for the Brit awards, where Harry has been nominated for four. He has invited YN to join him, and she will do whatever it takes to be there for him, as long as she can make it.

A/N: Finally got this out, over a week later. But it's here. Legitimately didn't think there'd be a part 2, but how could I not when our boy won 4 for 4 Brits?!?!

Warnings: Some explicit language, airport troubles, alcohol consumption

"You've got to be kidding me!"

"I'm sorry Ms. YLN, but we had to delay the flight."

You pinch the bridge of your nose, doing your best to take deep breaths and not completely lose it on this innocent attendant.

"How long will it take?"

"I'm…not entirely sure. It could potentially take a couple of hours…"

"This isn't happening." You mumble, throwing your face down into your palms as you sit there, helpless, in your seat on the airplane. "Diana, Peter, can you do anything? Please tell me you can do something."

Your manager and assistant give each other worried looks and it makes your heart sink.

Unfortunately, you had a prior commitment earlier in the day in Edinburgh, but told him that you would fly out as soon as it was done. You planned to have your outfit, plus hair and makeup teams, there on board with you and head straight to the venue from the airport. Everything seemed to be scheduled out nicely and going accordingly. Until now, that is. Because the jet you had managed to rent seems to be having some sort of mechanical issue, and is keeping you from being exactly where you want to be. Right by Harry.

You just got back with Harry, practically six days ago. He somehow, through the magic that comes from him being Harry Styles, managed to get you a seat at his table for The Brits. You were so honored, and happy, and excited that he wanted you there with him, and there's nowhere else you'd rather be.

"We're working on it, YN."

"There's just not much-" Peter gets interrupted by a swift elbow to his side by Diana.

"We're working on it."

You're never a diva, at least you try your hardest not to be, but this is the one moment you wish you had the capacity to demand that everything gets fixed and figured out so that you can get what you want.

"I know you're trying." You sigh. "Just… let me down easy once you know for sure."

You stand as best you can on the airplane, while your stylist zips up your dress and your makeup artist applies things to your face during commercial breaks.

Everyone around you is already buzzing over Harry's first win of the night, for Best Pop Act, when Peter begins to hush them down and turn up the volume on the television. It's the second award Harry's nominated for, and you're already on the edge of your nerves.

"So the Brit Awards goes to…" Lucien Laviscourt begins, asking his co-star for a drumroll as he opens the envelope. "The man that just does not stop. Harry Styles."

The camera shows Harry's head drop and a wide grin immediately appear on his face. He yells a little 'lets go' as he stands up and makes his way to the stage. You can tell his emotions are already building as he looks down at his second award.

"Umm, thank you again. Umm… I wanna start by, umm, I wanna thank my family for being the most supportive, understanding, patient, loving, umm, family that I could've ever asked for."

He goes on to thank his mum, and the crowd goes wild when he mentions the other members of One Direction. As if you weren't already gutted to be missing out, that part pains you. To be there in that moment would be absolutely thrilling, and if it were not now safely carrying you and your team to the destination you so desperately want to be at, you'd be cursing the plane for making you late.

"I'm really, really grateful for this and I'm very aware of my privilege up here tonight, so this award is for Rina, Charley, Florence, Mabel, and Becky. Thank you so much."

Your eyes water as he mentions his 'privilege' and honors the women who were looked over for nominations in that category. If ever there were to be someone, other than one of them, to win, of course it should be him. He is such an ally, and supporter, and even though you don't feel as if he should apologize for winning, your heart is so warmed at how humble he is. How willing he is to give the spotlight to someone else.

The group cheers on for the next few awards, and you join in when Wet Leg wins their second. Shouts ring out when Harry wins this third Brit award for Song of the Year.

With each win, or even glimpse you get of Harry, your heart is torn further into two. You're so proud of him, and happy for him, but you are also simultaneously filling up with guilt that you can't be alongside him, or even just in the room, to support him. You know he won't be mad. You know it's not your fault, and he will understand. But you can't stop it.

The entire cabin of people laugh as Harry walks off stage to kiss Lewis Capaldi, and as the jet finally pulls into the hanger. But you can't help the sadness it's causing alongside the joy.

Finally in the car, and on your way from the airport, you huddle between Diana and Peter as Stanley Tucci presents the nominees for Album of the Year.

"And the winner is…" Stanley opens the envelope and takes a big breath, you holding your own as your hand squeezes the phone. "Harry Styles. Harry's House."

The three of you scream out, watching from behind the screen, as Harry heads back to the stage, for his fourth and final time.

Tears begin to form and Peter quickly hands you a tissue to not ruin the hard work your team put into your makeup look.

You watch on, as he hugs and laughs with Stanley, expressing how much he loves him as soon as he lifts the microphone. All the emotions, and probably a small amount of alcohol, fueling his bright smile.

"This, uh… this night has been really, really special to me and I will never forget it. Thank you so much for the welcome home, I appreciate it so much. There is no place like home. Thank you, thank you, thank you." He takes a breath for a moment as he looks down to the crowd of fans and peers, causing you to feel that even though his mind is most surely swirling around, that this moment is really sinking in. But what's sinking in more and more for you is the fact that you aren't there. "I’m so, so proud to be a British artist out there in the world. I’m so proud to be here tonight celebrating British artists and British music. Thank you, thank you, thank you. I’m gonna hand it over to Tom and Tyler. Thank you so much for this, I’m so grateful. Thank you.”

You hand the phone to Diana, watery eyes and a smile displayed on your face. You missed it. In person, at least. But, as pained as it makes you, you are still going to show up for him. And you are going to celebrate with him the rest of the night.

"Well, to the after party it is."

You make a mental note to give your styling teams extra long vacations soon, because their magic has enabled your hair to stay in place and the usual stress-induced sweat to stay at bay.

You do what you can to catch your breath as you prepare to step out from the back seat of the car, and head into The Box.

A deep breath, followed by another, and as soon as the door swings open you are bombarded with bright flashes of light.

Your security guard guides you inside and it takes a moment for your eyes to adjust to the dim lighting, and your ears to adjust to all the new noise.

Instantly, and almost instinctively, your attention is drawn to that beautiful, loud laugh that you know so well, and you barely make out the figure of a very happy Harry Styles, beaming from the events of the night. All the sadness, guilt, and pain melt seeing him so joyful, and is replaced with pride. Pride, and the desperate need to be by him now.

You push your way through the crowd, and as you find yourself a few feet from Harry, who has yet to see you, your body is halted as Lizzo stands in front of you.

"Hey honey!" She exclaims, exuberantly. You attempt to glance past her for a moment, and when you look back you find her expression has quickly changed. "I thought you were gonna be at the award ceremony, what happened?"

"Don't even get me started…" You begin to scowl at how things unfolded earlier, but quickly wave it off, not wanting to slip back into that negativity. Especially since you're there now.

"Damn. Well, I missed you!" She states, wrapping her arms around you. Another glimpse of Harry sets your heart fluttering as you pull away from your friend's embrace. "Harry really missed you."

"I'm here now." You reply.

"YN… he's a little drunk…"

You let out a loud laugh, finding humor in the fact that it doesn't come as a shock to you.

"I figured as much."

"Yeah but, like… he was really bummed you weren't there." She replies, as solemnly as possible in such a loud, vibrant atmosphere. "And he had a few to drink…"

"Okay…"

You glance past her again and this time meet Harry's gaze. You give Lizzo a quick smile and maneuver around her, rushing up to him and wrapping your arms around his neck, placing a quick kiss on his cheek.

"Hey there superstar! I'm so proud of you!" You exclaim, pulling back to meet his gorgeous, yet glazed over, green eyes.

"You didn't come." He states, a frown appearing between his brows.

Your eyes grow wide and your heart stops. That was not even close to a reaction you thought he would have. You smile though, hoping to ease the tension that you feel coming on.

"I'm sorry. The-"

"You didn't come!" He repeats suddenly, the furrow between his eyes becoming even more intense, causing a tightening in your chest.

"Harry… I was trying…"

"You coulda told me you weren't coming."

"I was trying! I texted you, Gemma, and Jeff!" You scoff, crossing your arms over your chest.

"I was a little busy…"

"I know, Harry." You reply through gritted teeth. You understand that alcohol is playing a role here, but his attitude is still not warranted. But this must be what Lizzo was trying to tell you. Or potentially warn you about.

Harry shakes his head and looks to the ground, the frown almost permanent on his face.

"This was supposed to be an amazing night." He sighs, swirling around the contents in the glass he has in his hand.

"What the hell? You just won four Brit awards! How is this not an amazing night?"

"You should've been there." He scowls, causing your jaw to clench and your entire body to tense.

"This isn't fair."

"No. It's not." He runs his free hand through his hair, annoying you in the way that it still manages to fall back into place perfectly. Especially at this moment.

"I think… I think you should walk away." You utter, your heart hurting and your eyes beginning to water.

"Fine." He quickly replies, turning around as fast as the words left his mouth, and walking in the complete opposite direction of where you stand.

You could fall over right there, feeling as if you were just punched in the gut. This is not how that moment was supposed to go. Or this night. It was not even a consideration that he would be upset. You thought he would understand, but he didn't even let you explain.

So, not only were you not able to be there to cheer him on when he won, but now you aren't even able to celebrate with him at the party. A sinking feeling enters your mind. One that causes your feet to instantly head in the direction of the exit.

The worry you had, before the breakup, comes creeping back in. What if he thinks this is too difficult to do with you?

Your plan for escape was foiled before you even made it to the front door. Rhian and Hester from Wet Leg managed to grab your attention, by grabbing your arm, and pulled you into their conversation with the rest of the band.

It's not that you really minded talking with them, especially since you wanted to extend your congratulations anyway, but your mind keeps wandering back to your conversation with Harry. The interaction has left you in a less than ideal mood for celebrations.

Your eyes wander around the room, and land on the man you always seem to want to find in a crowd. Your breath hitches when you see he is looking right back at you. The expression on his face is no longer of anger, or frustration, or whatever he was feeling that left you two needing some space. Now, his features have softened, but still don't display any positivity.

Rhian's laugh catches your attention again, and you turn back to focus on the conversation unfolding in front of you. At least the people close by are happy you're there.

You suddenly feel a presence appear next to you and turn to the side to see Harry's saddened expression meet yours.

"Hello friends! Congratulations again." He states, removing his arm and embracing each of them for a moment.

"Thank you Harry! For everything!" Rhian giggles, turning to Hester as they gush over how unbelievable their wins were. You remember that feeling. It really doesn't change, even when you win another award, and you love seeing how happy they are. They deserve a fun night. Truthfully, so does Harry. So you decide to return to your previous plan of getting out of there.

"I think I'm going to call it a night everyone." You state, keeping your gaze on the girls, but noticing Harry's shoot right over to you.

You give them all a hug, shooting a polite smile to the man next to you, and turn to head to the exit.

You feel an arm snake around your waist and squeeze your side, which makes you slow your speed dramatically.

"Can I have a moment with you…" Harry whispers, his lips close enough to your ear that you feel his breath on your neck and it makes you shudder. "Before you go? Please?"

You manage a nod and let him guide you to a corner that seems to be a lot less crowded, and a tiny bit more quiet.

He stands in front of you, leaning against the wall beside him, and drops his head.

"YN, I'm…" He sighs, rubbing one hand against the back of his neck. His eyes flicker up to yours, and you determine that the expression you saw earlier was one of sadness. "I'm… I'm really, really sorry."

Surprise fills you, because so does frustration.

"Harry, I don't think you know how much I wanted to be there for you tonight! My damn flight got delayed and we tried everything to get here on time!" You exclaim, your breathing labored due to your quick response.

"I know. Peter just told me." He replies quietly, dropping his head again to look down at the floor.

"But you should've listened to me. I thought we were going to talk about things when they bothered us, but you wouldn't even hear my simple explanation for why I wasn't there tonight! How is this even going to work between us if this happens not even a week after we get back together?" You blurt out.

Harry immediately straightens up and your chest tightens. You didn't mean to let that all out. Not there at least. But, you promised to communicate with him and if he isn't going to, then you will. Although, you never truly meant to question the reunion of your relationship.

"Fuck, YN, I'm so fucking sorry." He answers, a shakiness and hint of worry in his voice. "It was a crazy night. I was so grateful when I won, and genuinely happy that I did, but each time I got sad that you weren't there. And… maybe I got a little worried."

"About what?"

"That… it's so fucking stupid… that you changed your mind about coming because… maybe you changed your mind about me."

He pulls his lips inward and closes his eyes, giving you a moment to cover your mouth in an attempt to hide the unintentional laugh that threatens to come out. You don't mean to, but you find it funny that after your little confession at the Grammys, he would question whether you still want to be with him. And that you had the same worry about him.

"Harry…" Your palms cup his cheeks, holding his face in front of yours, waiting for him to open his eyes. "Hey…"

He pries them open slowly, and you can feel his body relax under your touch.

"There was, and is, nowhere else I'd rather be than by your side, cheering you on." You smile, swiftly being matched by his delicious, dimpled grin.

"I'm really sorry. I shouldn't have… reacted that way. And I should've listened. I'm an idiot. I just missed you. So much." He states, moving his hands to grab your waist and drawing you closer to him. "So, so much."

"I missed you too." You bite your lower lip. "But we have got to be better about talking to each other."

"I know. I will. We will." He sighs with a small smile, and his nervousness makes you giggle.

"I love you, Harry."

"I love you too. This really is an amazing night."

"Good." You place your hands in his chest, tracing the outline of the tattoos peeking out from his top. "But you know… I am still a little upset with you about something…"

His eyes go wide with shock and maybe even a little guilt, which you quickly want to squash.

"I saw you kiss Lewis, and then Stanley Tucci!"

Harry's expression immediately changes as he lets out that loud laugh that you can only fall in love with more each time you hear it.

"Well, you weren't there…" He shrugs, taking a sip of his drink as his gaze flickers down to your lips.

"Hm. I think I need to take back what's mine." You immediately reply, feeling a heat and need for him quickly growing inside. "Let's leave."

"What?" He chuckles, staring into your eyes as if to gauge your sincerity. You give him as lustful a look as you can, without being too obvious, and another grin quickly appears across his face. "Let me finish my dri-"

"Take it with you…" You whisper, your fingers traveling up the nape of his neck into his curly locks. You lick your lips, leaning closer to his, and press them firmly together.

"Jeff?" Harry shouts, swiveling around to find his friend. "Call the car. We're heading out!"

Main Masterlist

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If your name is blue, I couldn't tag you

[wheelsgoroundincircles]

1956 Chrysler Norseman

The Dream Car at the Bottom of the Atlantic: 1956 Chrysler Norseman

Despite its sleek and dramatic styling, this Chrysler show car is remembered mainly for its sad fate: For decades now, it has been sleeping at the bottom of the Atlantic.  Here’s the unfortunate story of the 1956 Norseman. 

Throughout the 1950s, the Italian coachbuilder Ghia of Turin enjoyed a prolific partnership with Chrysler, creating many of the Motor City automaker’s most memorable show cars. Chrysler provided the designs, chassis, and running gear, while Ghia’s artisans created the hand-crafted bodies, typically at a fraction of the cost and time required in America.

However, there was at least one Chrysler-Ghia collaboration that was never officially shown to the public: the ill-fated 1956 Norseman. On its voyage to Detroit aboard the Andrea Doria, the Italian passenger liner collided with another ship, the Stockholm, and sank around 50 miles off the coast of Nantucket, claiming 51 lives. Since July of 1956, the Norseman has rested in the Andrea Doria’s hold at the bottom of the Atlantic, and a handful of photos are all that remain.

Designed under the supervision of Chrysler styling chief Virgil Exner, the Norseman showcased a number of distinctive features, but arguably the most spectacular was its fully cantilevered roof, reportedly conceived by Chrysler stylist Bill Brownlie. With no A or B pillars, the top was supported entirely by the buttress-like C pillars, aided by a pair of thin steel rods in tension at the forward edge of the panel. Other distinctive touches included hidden headlamps and floating bumpers front and rear.

The Norseman was constructed on a 129-inch wheelbase chassis—the same wheelbase as an Imperial, we note—while a 331 CID hemi V8 provided the power, coupled to a PowerFlite two-speed automatic transmission. According to Chrysler, the idea car, as the automaker called its show car prototypes, represented an investment of 50,000 man-hours and $150,000 to $200,000, while Ghia’s portion of the build consumed $15,000 and took 15 months, it’s said.

This photo of the Norseman’s cockpit, above, also provides a close look at the pillarless roof construction and the elaborate one-piece windscreen supplied by PPG Industries. Four bucket seats upholstered in two-tone metallic leather were separated by broad consoles front and rear, while the front seat backs pivoted to provide easier access for rear passengers.

Since the Norseman went to Davy Jones’ locker before it was ever officially photographed or displayed, very few images exist. (There is even some dispute about the color of the paint.) The few available photos were all taken at Ghia in Turin, including the fascinating shot below of the wooden body buck on which the aluminum body panels were formed. The rare snapshot provides some insight into the tremendous amount of hand labor required. While the Norseman and its unfortunate history are well-remembered today, few if any of its exotic features ever made it to a Chrysler production vehicle.

[baby-yongbok]

Poetry

Chapter Three - Plan B

Hyunjin × Fem!Reader

Chapter Three - Plan B

Genre: Fluff, the cute slow burn type

Summary: Hyunjin had some amazing things lined up for your first date but the universe had other plans for you two.

Word Count: 5,953

A/N: I wrote this and queued it then I changed 50% of it last minute 🙃. I hope you enjoy this chapter! Honestly I don't know how mini this series is gonna be lol I have a lot of plans. See you next Thursday at 6 💕

Part Two

✧Poetry Series Masterlist✧

✧Main Masterlist✧

Hyunjin’s Pov - 6:28pm

I’m sure that this photographer is fed up with me, I would be too if my model kept looking at the clock and not the camera. In my defense, this shoot was supposed to be over thirty minutes ago. I took the earliest schedule to make sure that I would have enough time to get ready for me and y/n’s date today. I planned to get there early like I usually do so that I can see the moment that she walks into the restaurant. I don’t think that she’s noticed the way that I look at her yet, the way that I watch her. Actually, now that I think about it that sounds a bit creepy but I don’t mean it that way. It’s like photography for me, I just love seeing her from a different lens, strangers point of view. I love admiring her beauty and pretending that she has no idea that I exist. That might sound silly since she does in fact know that I exist and seems to enjoy my existence enough to go on a date with me but I can’t seem to help it.

All of the times that I showed up early to our Thursday bookstore date at Adore was solely because I wanted to see the moment that she walked through the door. I wanted to see her before she painted a smile on and fixed her hair in a way that she thought that I’d find appealing, I wanted to see her for her. So, I make sure to arrive at least thirty minutes early just so I can enjoy the minute or two right before she sees me, just so I can capture that moment. Unfortunately, I don’t think that I'm going to be able to do that today. 

“I think we got it.” The photographer's tone is drenched in annoyance but I’m in too much of a hurry to care. I thank him quickly, not even bothering to take a look at the photo proofs, right now I have one mission and that’s to change and get to the restaurant. I rush to the front of the room where my stuff and my stylist are, luckily my stylist for this shoot is my roommate and one of my best friends. Han was one of the first friends that I ever made in this industry. We met at my first Versace shoot where he was a junior style consultant but now he’s calling the shots. 

I rummage through my bag, looking for my phone to check for any messages from y/n but what I see instead makes my heart drop. Apparently the clock that I’ve been watching this entire time is an hour fast and there’s only twenty minutes until our reservation, well, there was twenty minutes until our reservation. The second thing that catches my eye is a cancellation text from the restaurant, it says that they’re canceling due to the weather but last time I checked there was only a bit of rain.

“Fuck.” I whisper to myself, running my fingers through my styled hair. I clearly didn’t whisper well enough because when I looked up I noticed a very confused Han staring at me. 

“Did your date cancel?” 

“Not my date but my reservation, apparently there’s a weather advisory.” I sigh, placing my phone down on the table and then picking it up again. I should call her, I have to let her know what happened but what do I tell her? I need a plan B.

“Weather advisory?” Han looks up the stairs towards the door that leads outside, still wearing an expression of confusion. “Ah, we’re in the basement. There’s no windows.” 

How did I not notice that sooner? I look back down at my phone, opening y/n’s contact and staring at it. I don’t have a plan, I don’t know what to do next. How many other restaurants are closed because of the weather? I bet it’s not even that bad outside. 

“Uh, Hyunjin.” I got so lost in my thoughts that I didn’t notice Han go up the stairs to the door and open it. The roaring of heavy winds echoed throughout the large room and from where I was standing outside looked like one huge blur. I made my way over to him quickly, standing and staring in disbelief when I got close enough to take in the god awful storm. “You might want to call your date.” 

Han looks over at me but I keep my eyes fixed on the pouring rain. There’s no way that anyone is open right now, hell, I’m surprised that this basement isn’t flooded right now. 

“What do I tell her?” 

“Maybe you guys should reschedule.” That’s honestly the last thing that I want to do right now but I can’t think of a better plan. Maybe she has one? I’d have to call her to find out but I can’t bring myself to dial her number, maybe it’s because we’ve never spoken on the phone before? 

“Maybe I’ll text her.” I unlock my phone and start typing but the feeling of Han’s gaze on me stops me before I can send the message. I side eye him for a second before turning my head completely, he has his arms crossed and eyebrows raised and I mimic him prompting him to speak. “What?”

“Are you afraid to call her?” I scoff at him, shaking my head and looking back down at my phone. “No fucking way, Hwang Hyunjin is nervous.” 

“I’m not nervous, I just don’t want to bother her.” He chuckles and I roll my eyes, I might be nervous to call her but the last thing that I need is for him to get a hold of that information. I’d never hear the end of it.

“You don’t want to bother the girl who’s going on a date with you and is probably already waiting for your call?” I clear my throat as I smooth out the suit jacket that I wore for the shoot. He has a point but I’ll never let him know that. 

“That’s not it I just -” I look down at my phone as it starts to vibrate in my hand and my heart stops. “Oh?” 

“What?” Han asks, leaning over a bit to get a look at my phone screen. 

“She’s calling me.” I stare wide eyed at the screen, I can’t help it, this is the very first time she’s called me. This would be the first time that we talk with our actual voices outside of the cafe. “What do I do?”

“Uh, answer it?”

“Right...right.” I took a deep breath before swiping the button and putting the phone to my ear but what I heard on the other line made my eyebrows furrow in confusion. 

Is she talking to me?

Y/n’s Pov - 6:16 pm

“Are you sure that you’re going on a date today?” My roommate Changbin asks as he stares out of our living room window. 

“Uh, yeah, he hasn’t said anything otherwise.” I call back from my bedroom as I look in the mirror to put my earrings on. “Why?”

“Have you not looked outside? It’s insane. I literally just watched our neighbors trash can get blown over the 7/11 across the street.” I sigh as I make my way into the living room.

“He would’ve called me if the plans changed right?” I look over with Changbin, hoping that maybe he can help calm my mind. I’ve been confiding in him when it comes to seeing Hyunjin, asking him what I should wear and how my hair looks before I go out to meet Hyunjin. I even asked him for advice regarding this date so he knows just how anxious I am. Changbin and I are bonded like blood, he’s my best friend and he knows just what to say to calm me down, well, he usually does. 

“He should yeah, but maybe you should call him.” I freeze as I take in his suggestion, Hyunjin and I have never spoken on the phone. We’ve been texting nonstop, day and night, but we’ve never called each other. My silence seemed to have grabbed Changbin’s attention, he looks back at me with curious eyes until suddenly it clicked for him.

“No way.” He turns, walking over to me and standing with his arms crossed over his broad chest. I avoid eye contact because I already know that he’s going to make fun of me. “You two haven’t spoken on the phone yet?”

His words are loud and covered in disbelief, I glance over at his amused expression before looking down at my feet. I shrug, trying to play it off before answering in a bit of a whisper.

“It’s complicated.”

“All you have to do is press his contact and put the phone to your ear, how complicated is that?” He bites back sarcastically and I roll my eyes. I know that he’s right, it’s really not that hard but I can’t help that I’m anxious. Talking to Hyunjin is easy and relaxing but at the same time it makes me feel like I’m about to jump out of a plane for the first time. I turn on my heels, stalking back over to my room and picking my phone up from my Vanity. Changbin follows close behind me and watches as I unlock my phone and open my contacts, I scroll down to Hyunjin's name and press it. The call button is right there, all I have to do is press it, it’s simple.

“This is the part where you call him.” Changbin whispers over my shoulder and I groan, throwing a mini tantrum. 

“Maybe I’ll just text him.”

“For fucksake, there’s no way that you’re that nervous to talk on the phone.” I turn to him and I’m more than sure that he can see the distress written on my features. 

“I’ve never called him before, Bin.” I whine as I stare down at Hyunjin's contact.

“Well, there’s no time like the present.” Before I can process what’s going on Changbin snatches my phone from my hand and presses the call button before handing it back to me. My eyes go wide once I hear the first ring, my finger hovers the end button but I don’t press it. It would be embarrassing to hang up and have to explain what happened. I groan again before putting the phone up to my ear. My eyes land on Changbin’s smiling face and I instantly flip him off.

“I fucking hate you.” Before Changbin can reply I hear a confused voice on the other line and my heart drops. Shit, he thought I was talking to him.

“Did I do something wrong?” Hyunjin asks, confusion laced in his tone. 

“Oh, no I’m sorry I was uh, talking to my roommate… anyway, uh hi.” I turn away from Changbin and move to sit at my vanity.

“Hey, I uh, I assume that you’re calling me about this god awful storm.” 

“Yeah, it picked up pretty fast.” Hyunjin sighs on the other line and I take a deep breath to try and steady myself. He did a lot of setting up for today’s date and now it’s all ruined by the weather, I can’t imagine how he feels right now. “ Are we still, ya know.”

“Um, well, the restaurant actually canceled the reservation and I’m sure that just about every other place is doing the same.” 

“Wow, okay, so uh..I guess we can do this another day.” I tried my best not to let my disappointment bleed into my tone but I’m positive that I failed when I hear yet another sigh come from Hyunjin.

“Yeah I guess so.” I shake my head even though he can’t see me but I can’t bring myself to say anything in response. I’ve been waiting for this day since the last time I saw him and it all got ruined by some fucking rain, that’s just great. I open my mouth to reply but stop when I hear some whispering on the other line, it’s not Hyunjin's voice but it sounds like it’s coming from right next to him. I try to make out what they’re saying but the sound of Hyunjin whispering back interrupts the process. After a couple seconds of him whispering to whoever he’s with I clear my throat to grab his attention. 

“Sorry about that, uh, I um… I think that I have an idea but it’s totally fine if you don’t want to do it.” There’s a nervous shake to his voice that comforts me a bit, at least I’m not the only one that’s anxious.

“Oh? What’s the idea?” 

“Maybe I could… come over to your place? We could have a home date, order some food and watch a movie. I mean, only if you’re comfortable with it, I don’t want to cross any boundaries.” 

My gaze shifts over to where Changbin has been impatiently waiting in the hallway. He looks over at me with furrowed brows and now it’s our turn to whisper.

“What?” Changbin asks, leaning closer to me.

“He wants to come over.” I whisper as quietly as I can and Changbin’s eyebrows fly up in surprise.

“He gets ten points for being bold. Do it.” 

“But the apartment is a mess.” I motion towards the living room and Changbin looks behind him, scanning the room carefully. 

“We literally just cleaned yesterday.” Anxiety climbs up my spine as I realize that there’s no way to get out of this. It’s not that I don’t want to have this date, I want it more than anything, the problem is I have never in my entire life had a man over to my shared apartment but there’s no time like the present, right?

“Fine.” I whisper back at him, rolling my eyes in defeat.

“Everything alright?” Hyunjin asks from the other line and I sit up straighter in my seat at the sound of his voice. 

“Yeah, uh let’s do it. A home date sounds good.” He’s quiet for a second, most likely trying to calm down his hammering heart because I am definitely trying to do the same thing.

“Great so, uh do you want to keep the same time?” 

“Yeah seven still works, I’ll uh, send you my address.” Changbin gives me a thumbs up, trying his best to encourage me through my anxiety.

“Okay well uh, see you soon.”

“Yeah, see you soon.” I slowly lower the phone from my ear before hanging up and practically throwing it onto my vanity. He’s going to be in my house, in my room, oh my gosh. 

“See that wasn’t so bad.” My mind is racing, now I have to prepare for an entirely new date. I need to clean my room, I’m way too overdressed for a home date, I need to redo my makeup. Do I even have enough time? What movie do we watch?  “Y/n?”

The sound of Changbin calling my name snapped me out of my thoughts, I don’t have time to sit here, I need to get moving. Oh my god, he’s going to be in my house.

“Out. I need to get ready… again.”

“I don’t think that there’s much for you to do.” I glare over at my roommate and he holds his hands up in surrender. “I’m going, I'm going.”

He backs out of my room, closing the door with him. How in the hell do I prepare for this date now?

Third Person Pov - 6:57pm

 You spent forty minutes rushing around your room and moving things around. Your room wasn’t even messy but it wasn’t exactly the most romantic setting either. You organized and decorated your bookshelf, lighting some candles and turning on your fairy lights. You vacuumed and changed your sheets so that everything was fresh. After spending way too much time revamping your space you turned your attention to your appearance. You got dressed, again, trying your best to pick something comfortable but not too casual, this is a date after all. The more you think about it, the more comfortable you are with the change of plans. Instead of some expensive wine and some fancy restaurant you get to indulge in cheap wine and fast food on your bedroom floor. It’s more your speed, more intimate, romantic. The idea of it makes you blush, you and Hyunjin always settle into your own bubble when you’re together but tonight it really will be just the two of you. The thought of it is scary yet exciting.

You haven’t heard from Changbin since you sent him away earlier, you were thankful that he gave you your space to prepare instead of hovering but you knew that he’d be back to check on you before your date started. That’s why you’re not surprised when you hear the small knock on your bedroom door. 

“Come in.” You call out just as you complete your look, pulling on your forest green sweater. Changbin opens your door and leans against the frame with his arms crossed over his chest. He looks you over and shakes his head in approval. 

“You look comfortable, it’s very you.” You chuckle lightly, turning towards your mirror to study your look. Your curly hair is pulled up into a messy bun and your green sweater is paired with a pair of high waisted black leggings and a pair of fuzzy green socks to match your sweater. 

“You think that it’s okay?” You ask, your eyes meeting his in the reflection of the mirror. He moves from his spot at your door frame and comes up behind you, he places his hands on your shoulders and gives a reassuring squeeze. 

“You look wonderful as always, and from what you’ve told me this guy is already head over heels in love with you.” You scoff, turning around to be face to face with your roommate.

“I never said that, that’s just what you think.” You move from in front of him and take a seat at your vanity. You decide that your look could use a subtle touch of lip gloss and maybe a necklace. Changbin goes back over to your door frame leaning against the wood as he watches you.

“I promise you that everything that this guy has done up until this point is just screaming ‘I’m in love’. I even bet that he’s going to kiss you tonight.” Your breath hitches in your throat as you take in Changbin’s words. Is Hyunjin going to try and kiss you tonight? What if he does? It’s been nearly a year since you’ve kissed a man, are you even still good at it? Were you ever good at it? “Hey, get out of your head.”

You’re brought back to reality by Changbin poking your shoulder lightly. 

“You think he’s going to kiss me?” Just as Changbin opens his mouth to reply, a deep rumble of thunder rips through the apartment.  

“First let's see if he’ll even show up.” You groan before picking up your phone and checking for any new messages from Hyunjin. Maybe you should cancel, having him travel in this storm is dangerous and the last thing that you’d want is for him to get hurt. Just as you're about to reply you’re interrupted by another sound but instead of thunder it’s the sound of knocking at your front door. Your heart rate quickens as you look at the time. 

“Fuck, that’s him, oh my gosh.” You rush to stand from your vanity chair, looking in the mirror one more time. “I can do this.”

You start to walk out of your room but just as you pass Changbin he grabs your wrist lightly and flashes you a big smile. “You deserve this, ya know?” 

“What do you mean?”

“You deserve to live the life that you read about and you deserve to have your fairytale ending. I know that you’re nervous but you got this, okay?” You smile back at him nodding your head in acknowledgement. Changbin has always been there for you through your ups and downs, especially when the two of you were in university together. You were the classic hopeless romantic looking for her prince charming in all the wrong places. Changbin was your shoulder to cry on whenever you ended up with a broken heart which happened more times than you’d like to admit. “And if you need me to kick him out just text me.”

He lets go of your wrist and you can’t help but to laugh at his previous statement. 

“I don’t think that will be necessary.” You hear a knock at the door again and you rush over to answer it. You take a deep breath before turning your lock followed by the knob and opening your front door with a smile. That smile quickly drops into a look of confusion once you take in the sight in front of you. Before you stands your date holding orange roses while in a soaking wet black suit that looks expensive enough to pay your rent for two months. His long black hair is slicked down and dripping and you’re almost positive that everything in the bag that he carries is ruined.

“Oh my gosh.” You gasp out, a faint chuckle passes Hyunjin’s lips as you stare at him in shock.

“May I uh, come in?” You nod quickly, moving to the side to let him in. Once he’s inside and you’ve closed the door behind him the two of you stand in a bit of an awkward silence.

“It’s raining just a tiny bit.” Hyunjin whispers towards you and the two of you can’t help but to break out into a fit of laughter.

“Hyunjin, you’re soaked.” You watch as he slips off his shoes and places them neatly by the entrance. He may not have realized it but he placed them right next to yours. The sight of his large shoes next to your smaller ones brings a small smile to your face. 

“Yeah, well, my roommate ended up needing to use my car for an emergency. I tried to order an uber but they kept canceling on me. I even tried to catch the bus but the next one didn’t come at a decent time. I figured that if I wanted to be on time my best bet was to walk.”

“You could’ve been a bit late, I would have understood.” Hyunjin shakes his head, a slight grin on his face.

“I never want to be late getting to you.” You can’t help the blush that creeps across your cheeks as his words sink in. “Oh, um, these are for you.” 

He takes a step towards you, handing the wet roses over to you and you accept them with a wide smile. “They’re beautiful.”

“They are, but I must admit that they have some very serious competition.” You tear your gaze away from the flowers and look up at Hyunjin with furrowed brows. He reaches forward and takes your hand in his. The small touch makes your body feel electric as always. “You look stunning tonight.”

He leaves a small kiss on the back of your hand and you swear that the butterflies in your stomach have multiplied.

“As do you.. Even though you’re soaked.” You laugh again as you take in his appearance. Keeping your hand in his you decide to lead him away from the main entrance and over to your bedroom. You can hear music coming from Changbin's room and you can’t help but to feel thankful for his attempt at giving you some privacy. You lead Hyunjin through your living room and past the kitchenette until you reach your room. 

“You have a very nice apartment.” Hyunjin comments as he takes a quick look around. 

“You don’t have to lie.” You chuckle as you lead him into your bedroom, closing the door behind the two of you. 

“I wouldn’t lie to you.” You smile at his response, That sure does sound familiar.

“Well then, thank you.” You turn to your closet and start to rummage through it. “I should have some clothes that you can change into here.” 

“You have mens clothing in your closet?” You can hear the slight confusion in his voice and it makes you a bit nervous. Does he think that that’s odd? 

“Well, my roommate gives me the clothes that he doesn’t wear anymore so I have some mens clothing, yeah.” You try your best to sound nonchalant but you’re sure that the shakiness in your voice gave way to how you really felt. Hyunjin flashes you a soft smile as he nods.

“Your roommate is a guy? Are the two of you close?” He asks while his eyes scan your room slowly, taking in all of the personal details. 

“He’s like a brother to me.” You grab a set of clothing from the top shelf and turn back around to him. “We met in college and have been best friends ever since.”

“Well, I hope to meet him soon.” You hand Hyunjin the clothes and he smiles. “Beer Pizza?” 

You look down at the white t-shirt with maroon lettering and you can’t help the embarrassed blush that covers your cheeks. You have a man wearing the most expensive suit you’ve ever seen in your bedroom and you gave him a silly graphic t-shirt to wear?

“I can find something different.” You mumble as you start to turn back towards your closet but Hyunjin's gentle grip on your wrist stops you. You turn around to his smiling face and your heart calms down a bit at the sight. 

“It’s fine. I just thought that the design was kind of… fun, ya know? It’s not what I’d usually wear but I like it.” You nod and he lets go of your wrist. “ Where should I uh..” 

“Oh, right um you can change in here. I’ll go put the roses in some water, you can use the towel on the back of the door.” You grab the roses off of your vanity and rush out of the room, once you hear the click of your door closing all the way you take a deep breath and try to calm yourself. You can’t help but to feel a bit embarrassed by your reaction to the clothes you gave him but who could blame you? That man looks expensive, I mean you would too if you did what he did for work… Wait, what does he do for work?

You think to yourself as you fix your roses in the pretty blue vase that you got from some thrift shop years ago. How have you been seeing this man once a week for five weeks and you still have no clue what he does for work? He’s in your apartment and you don’t even know that small detail? You sigh at yourself as you place the flowers in the middle of your kitchen island and head back to your room. 

“I should really ask him.” You whisper to yourself as you grip your bedroom door knob. You knock twice and Hyunjin calls out a soft ‘come in’ before you turn the knob. You start to walk in but stop dead in your tracks as you catch a glimpse of Hyunjin's back as he pulls the t-shirt over his frame. Your cheeks heat up instantly and you feel a blush creep over you for the millionth time tonight and the date only just started. 

“May I use some hangers? I need to let this dry properly or else I’m in big trouble.” Hyunjin laughs nervously and you nod. 

“Why would you be in trouble?” You ask in an attempt to get your brain to focus on something other than the very appealing back muscles of the man in your room. 

“It’s not my suit. I begged my stylist to let me keep it on so that I could rush over to you.” He replies with a slight chuckle. 

“Stylist?” You ask yourself in a whisper as you try to figure out what job he could have that would require such a thing. Hyunjin smiles as he steps closer to you, taking the hangers that you’ve fished from your closet. 

“I never told you what I do for work, did I?” You shake your head and now it was his turn to blush. “I suppose that I always try to avoid that conversation when I first meet people. It gets hard to tell who wants to be your friend for the money and who is actually interested in you.”

“Money? What money?” You joke and Hyunjin chuckles. 

“I know that I can trust you. For some reason, I’ve felt that since I met you…” Hyunjin’s sentence trails off into a whisper. He seems to be in deep thought for a second but he snaps out of it before you can ask what he means by that. “Anyway, I’m uh, I’m a model for some luxury brands. Hence all of the Versace that I wear and the YSL suit that I got soaked in.”

“Oh?” You can’t help but look Hyunjin over slowly, taking in his features and his frame. Of course he’s a model, He’s the personification of perfection in the fashion world's eyes.

“Is.. that alright?” He asks, scratching the back of his neck nervously. You perk up at the sound of his uneasy tone and grin. 

“Yeah, I just can’t believe I didn’t figure that out. You’re so beautiful, of course you’re a model.” You freeze as you realize the words that just left your mouth. You look down at your rug quickly as your face flushes. 

“I’m beautiful?” Hyunjin asks, clearly amused by your confession. “ I believe that I’m in the same position as the roses I gifted you, I definitely have some very serious competition.” 

He steps forward so that he’s right in front of you and gently places a finger under your chin so that your flustered gaze meets his soft one. He’s smirking down at you softly, taking in the beautiful rose red that’s sweeping across your features. You stare back at him but you can’t help but to glance down at his blushed lips. The smirk pulling at them makes your heart beat faster than the embarrassment that's melting away.

“Thank you for the compliment.” Hyunjin whispers and now it was his turn to look at your lips. Beautiful and shining with the coat of lip gloss you put on minutes before he arrived. You both have the same thought, the same desire. 

“You’re welcome.” You whisper back, blinking up at him with doe eyes that he swears carries the galaxies. You lean into the gentle touch he has on your chin just a bit, drawing yourself closer to him. Hyunjin can feel his heart beating a mile a minute, he can hear his brain telling him what to do but he can also hear the doubt whispering to him and for some reason the whispers always win. With a small sigh Hyunjin retracts his hand and you instantly feel yourself missing his electric touch. He takes a step back and picks up one of the hangers you gave him from your full size mattress.

“Are you hungry? We should figure out what we’d like to eat.” He asks, avoiding eye contact with you. You do the same, as you try to slow down the fast beating of your heart. 

“Yeah, I’ll see what’s open.” You reply quietly before stalking over to your vanity and grabbing your phone to browse through a delivery app. “What are you in the mood for?

“Just about anything, you pick what you want and I’ll follow.” 

He puts his suit on the hangers and then moves to place the wet items on the back of your door. He watches you as you mindlessly scroll through the restaurants, rocking back and forth lightly. He can’t help but smile but unfortunately there’s only a small trace of happiness in this gesture. His thoughts are racing and he can’t help but to feel like he’s drowning in them. What is he doing here with someone as beautiful as you? Someone so smart and stunning and open to love. What could his damaged heart possibly provide you? Hyunjin can’t help but to bite his tongue as his doubts start to attack him, flashbacks to all the things that have tainted him, all of the things that he wants so desperately to tell you even though the two of you have only just met. He wants to hear you say that none of it matters, that even with his heart being ripped out of his chest before he met you you’ll still love him, that you’ll teach him how to do the only thing that he’s desired to do for years. There’s a hint of hope in his thoughts and it only grows bigger when you look up at him. Your curious eyes ground him immediately and he can’t help but to smile again, that hint of hope budding into a small flower in his heart. Maybe he can do this?

“See anything good?” He asks as he walks over to you, he stands behind you and places a hand on the small of your back gently. You relax into the touch and you both grin a bit. 

“I’m buying so go crazy.” He chuckles and you roll your eyes. 

“We can go half.” Hyunjin clicks his tongue in disapproval as he sits on the edge of your bed. 

“Absolutely not, what kind of gentleman would I be if I let you pay on the first date?” You sigh, turning to face him.

“I just like for things to be fair.” He offers his hand to you and you take it without a second thought. He leads you forward a bit, opening his legs to allow you to get closer to him.

“If I am to be fair then I must treat you the way that my heart so desires. I must gift you all of the world's greatest wonders before I can call you one of my own.” A shy smile adorned Hyunjin's lips full lips before he licked them, pulling them into a thin line right after.

“Who was that by? It was beautiful.” He reaches his free hand up to scratch the back of his neck lightly, a mere chuckle leaving his lips.

“Uh, that was actually an original.” Your eyes widen slightly as a blush sneaks up on you. “That bad?”

Hyunjin chuckles again, this time avoiding your gaze

“No.. I just, I guess I’m surprised? I wasn’t aware that you wrote poetry and that was…that was beautiful, Hyunjin, really.” His eyes meet yours quickly and he can feel his nerves melt away. 

“Thank you.” He whispers shyly before clearing his throat a bit. “I only just started writing again. I guess I found my muse.” You watch him as he grins a bit, he sits up straighter trying his best to compose himself. A shiver runs over you and you smile a bit, he can’t be talking about you right? There’s no way that you’re his muse…right? The two of you seem to snap out of your thoughts at the same time, smiling at each other with shy yet soft gazes. The air feels electric again, is this how the entire night is gonna feel?

“So, what are we thinking for dinner? I’m starving.”

← Previous Chapter ♡ Next Chapter →

[untaemedqueen]

At Your Service

Escort!Jeongguk x CEO!Reader

Genre: Strangers to Lovers!AU, Angst, Fluff, Smut

Series Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Cold Heartedness, Emotional Trauma, Healing, Smut, Dark Humor, Unexpected Pregnancy, Almost Instalove, Instalust

Warnings For This Chapter: Morbidity, Dark Humor

Chapter 2. 

The start of your morning always begins with a shot of espresso on your back patio and a look through of the past week's sales.

This morning, unfortunately for you, you can't possibly start off your day as usual. Not when Namjoon is standing on your doorstep at the crack of fucking dawn.

Even with his hands held up high with a brown paper bag full of freshly baked blueberry muffins from Angostinos and the other carefully carrying smoothies, he still has a gigantic smile plastered onto his face.

"Good morning!" Namjoon beams, brushing right past you into your sterile mansion.

"What's so good about it?" you grumble, placing your hand over your eyes like a vampire witnessing the sun for the first time in their life.

You slowly shut the door, notes of Joon's high pitched whistling floating through one ear and out the other with constant consistency.

It is in fact very odd that the tall, handsome man is in your home at the moment. Namjoon has always respected your private life and he never intrudes, never.

So on a Friday morning, with breakfast in hand is quite frankly bizarre.

"Why are you here?" you inquire, stepping into the open kitchen and leaning against the grand black marble pillar while your co-worker arranges breakfast on a plate.

"I can't bring you breakfast?" he chirps, sliding his sunglasses up and over his head until his hair is perfectly placed beneath them.

He's probably here to be nosy.

"No. It's illegal. Why are you here?" you ask again.

He stops arranging the muffins to look up at you slowly. He can hear the morning scratchiness of your throat with each word and he can certainly feel your demonic gaze piercing through his three piece suit.

Even now as you lean against the pillar, your black silk robe that trails along the cold, stone flooring is billowing around you like you're a goddess of deadly destruction.

Swallowing thickly, Namjoon averts his gaze when his eyes begin to trail over the one exposed leg that peeks out from beneath your robe.

"I came over to see how the escort thing went."

Bingo.

Call a horse a horse and it'll gallop all the way to the finish line for you.

"It went fine," you reply, walking over to one of the hard, stylistic black barstools and tentatively sitting.

There's no person on Earth that could sit down on this thing for more than ten seconds without getting a bruised coccyx and maybe a genital ache.

"So you picked a guy then?"

God's favorite pet project is acting just a bit too needy for you so early in the morning. Whenever he acts like this at work you can always just have a glass of wine and breathe, but without your espresso -- it's a buzzkill.

"Yes. His name is Jeongguk."

Joon can tell you're being curt and snippy now but when are you not?

So like always, he pushes past it.

"Got a picture? I'm curious to see what your type is. Does he look like me? Is he my long lost twin?"

You can only roll your eyes as you demurely point at the binder you took home at the far end of the bar.

Joon suddenly perks up at the thought of seeing multiple candidates and he's off in a split second.

"Make me an espresso while you be nosy."

"It's not my house," he murmurs, looking around.

"Figure it out, you woke me up," you breathe, looking down at your perfect nails.

"He looks like a fuckboy," Joon muses, sipping his smoothie.

Looking up from your espresso, you simply shrug. "He was very polite when I met him."

Fucking hot too.

"So he's willing to go with you to this wedding? You told him everything about it?" he inquires, brushing some of the muffin crumbs off the table into his hand and sprinkling them back onto his plate.

"He's coming over tonight to talk about some sort of game plan so I'd say so," you reply.

Namjoon's eyebrows furrow and his features give away almost immediately how much he hates that idea. "What? That's dangerous! You don't even know this dude and he's coming over to your house!?"

"You worry too much," you offer, patting him on the shoulder.

In all reality, you hadn't really thought about that. You were too entranced by how fucking hot Jeongguk was in that small office during the interview.

You acted like a child, really. It was like you've never seen an attractive human before and honestly… it really showed.

"Do you want me to come over after work and make sure he won't do anything?" Joon offers.

"No," you reply quickly, shaking your head.

He isn't your father. He doesn't need to just show up and you certainly won't embarrass Jeon Jeongguk like that.

"This is professional. And it will remain as such," you promise, sipping your espresso.

Unfortunately.

With a groan, Guk sets down the bar of weights above him.

"Nice, you're getting fucking strong, dude. You can lift more than you weigh." Jimin, his best friend chirps, tossing him a towel.

The escort catches it easily, patting his face gently as he sits up on the bench. "Yeah, I've been getting into working out more and more lately."

"Ever since Chloe?" Taehyung inquires, shaking his protein drink.

Just the sound of her name makes the youngest nauseous. "Chill out."

Jimin holds his hands up innocently before grabbing his gym bag with a sigh. "Got any jobs lately? Women don't want random dick anymore, man. They all want relationships and love and… commitment."

Tae snorts softly as he swallows the thick protein shake.

"I have a client I'm meeting in a few hours. I'm going to a wedding with her." Jeongguk announces, fixing his tank top in the mirror and flexing his biceps.

If his best friends were dogs, their ears would be perking up and their heads would be tilting at his admission.

"Oh really?!" Jimin drolls, draping himself over the bench press and looking at the youngest through the mirror.

"Yeah. She seems really nice," Guk shrugs, grabbing his dress shirt from the hook beside him.

"Is she hot?" Tae inquires with a sly smile, resting his elbow atop Jeongguk's shoulder.

The escort doesn't know how to reply. Most of the time when he hangs out with his best friends he himself is never under their gaze and questions are never barreled at him, he somehow always avoids it by switching the subject back to them.

But now, he has to answer.

When he first saw you in the meeting room guzzling your champagne with awkward, quick moving eyes, he found himself fond of how unsure you were. You were dressed head to toe in thousands of dollars worth of clothes and yet, you carried yourself like someone making little money.

He actually liked that.

It isn't everyday that a client seems down to Earth. It's been a long time since he hasn't felt on edge at a first meeting.

Were you hot though?

You certainly were attractive. You carried yourself well. You made him want to help get your payback immediately.

"Yeah, she was pretty cute," he admits nonchalantly.

"Just cute?"

Oh Christ.

Enough.

"I gu-"

"Leave him alone!" Jimin chortles, patting Guk on the back, "You know how he gets."

Thank God.

The youngest never talks about clients. Not anymore and he'd like to keep it that way.

While you were basically just an enigma wrapped in Balenciaga, Guk should determine on his own if he'd like to figure you out -- without the help of Hell's own personal gatekeepers.

His eyes skim over the practically empty gym until he finds the large clock on the wall.

"I actually have to start heading out. I have to meet up with Y/N in a bit."

The others exchange a look when he speaks your name softly and it's almost too hard to keep their smiles contained.

If they can count on one thing, it'll be that if Jeongguk really does find an interest in you they'll be sure to hear about it the next time they see him.

Entering your home after a long day of work, you find it very hard to do almost anything.

You don't cook for yourself, you don't clean, you don't get to sit down and relax and watch television.

You simply just… exist.

Today is the same.

Although, in just a little while, the handsome man you're paying to come to an event with you will be doing the exact same thing.

For the first time in a long time you feel bad.

He'll have to sit on embarrassingly hard furniture and stare at medically clean marble walls.

There's nothing to keep someone entertained in this house -- not even you.

You think about the backyard, how perfectly trimmed and neat it is with the black flower bushes and the white roses and maybe that's the place you'll take him. Maybe he'll find that you have some substance while you're back there.

Setting down your purse on the counter, you ponder what to do to make Jeongguk feel welcome.

It's not his fault you're dead inside, it's no one's fault really no one but the two little slimy fucks that are getting married.

It seems you mull it over for almost too long because the doorbell rings while you're deep in thought. The rich, meaty sound echoes throughout the empty, vastness of your mansion and it suddenly sends you into a panic.

"Oh fuck!" you gasp, turning around in circles like a madman as you smooth out your dress.

Your hands fly to your hair, trying to smooth it out without even having a reflective surface to truly make sure you look presentable.

When you waltz by the screen that shows you who's at the door, you're almost floored immediately.

This is only the second time you're seeing him now but he's just as handsome as the first time. He's taking in the mansion before him, looking around at everything like it's a grandiose amusement park and he isn't even inside yet.

There's something cute about it if you're being honest, the way he's staring at the fourteen foot tall double doors with his jaw practically on the ground makes you smirk even the slightest bit.

You stop your fiddling, leaving your long, sweeping black gown alone and your hands don't even reach for a strand of your hair.

It's almost like he's a siren and you're completely still and calm with him in your sights.

Taking a deep breath, you round the corner and open up the double doors with very little flourish.

"Hi," you chirp softly.

Finally, Guk picks his jaw up off the floor and he gives you a smile that's practically Earth shattering.

"Hey," he breathes, slinging his leather jacket over his shoulder.

Within seconds you're turning back into that awkward, ridiculous woman you were during your first meeting a few days ago.

You take him in for a second, appreciating the thick steel chain hanging around his neck and the perfectly ironed dress shirt that he's wearing.

He looks perfect if you're being honest. So perfect that your only reaction is to turn right on your heels and march back into your sterile mansion for some sort of comfort.

Guk follows behind you, closing the doors and ogling at every little thing he sees.

"Selling wine pays well," Jeongguk gasps, whistling at the art pieces he sees.

There's the faint sound of opera bleeding through the mausoleum walls that buffers out the cold silence.

"I… um… I didn't pick up anything for dinner, if-if you're hungry," you announce, grabbing the champagne bottle and two stemless glasses.

"Oh! We can order whatever you like. That'll actually be helpful for me, I'll get to see your favorite type of food and make a note of it for when we go to the wedding," the escort replies.

This is work.

The fucking wedding.

You're really getting flustered up over someone you're paying to go with you someplace?!

Get a grip.

"Good idea," you breathe, chuckling awkwardly as you make your way to the vast backyard.

"Holy shit, this is beautiful." Jeongguk gawks, looking over the perfectly cut hedges and blooming flowers.

If he had to guess, he'd say you were a neat freak. There's not a speck of dust or a single crumb throughout your entire mansion and it makes him wonder.

Most clients he meets to find out more about them, it's merely just a formality.

But he's genuinely curious about you.

He's interested in how someone like you thinks and how you go about life.

"Please sit," you offer, sitting down on the black wicker chair that overlooks the stone pond just inches away.

Clearing his throat, your guest does the same.

He makes an effort to sit properly, although it does look like he's hurting himself in the process. His back is bent strangely and his hands are gripping at his bare knees through his ripped jeans uncomfortably.

He must not want to touch anything for fear of making a mistake.

You feel as if you should try and make him more comfortable, which is big for you when you seemingly adore how the interns at work literally run in the opposite direction when they hear your Louboutin heels clacking towards them.

"Treat this like your own place, it's okay," you promise, popping open the champagne.

Jeongguk gives you a polite smile. "Oh I don't think you'd want that. There'd be protein bar wrappers everywhere."

When you give the faintest hint of a smirk it seems to settle him a bit more.

Your smile is pretty, Guk thinks, it's a shame you don't smile very often.

Sliding him the glass of wine, you look out towards the backyard that you very rarely come to look at.

"Salmon sounds good for dinner?" you inquire, bringing the glass to your lips.

The escort can only nod. "I like salmon. Sounds doable to me."

This really isn't as awkward as you thought it would be. It doesn't feel painful to sit beside him.

That's nice.

Taking a sip of the wine, Guk wants to simply fall to his knees at the taste. It honestly tastes expensive, like you but there's notes in it that make him feel comfortable drinking it.

He's not used to this upper class sort of stuff. He's well off, sure, but he's not rolling in money.

"What kind of questions did you have in mind?"

He lifts his head a fraction only to see your head tilting toward him. With the setting sun in the background, you look like a grand painting like one of the ones he used to study in college.

It's a stunning sight.

Why the fuck would anyone hurt you?

His throat and voice box are nowhere to be found in all honesty, they've gotten lost somewhere within him and he's just not quick enough to find them before you look over at him inquisitively.

"Jeongguk?"

"Yes! Questions!" he coughs loudly, setting down his glass of champagne.

You're too busy berating your own self to catch his small moment of being flustered.

"My questions are simple in a sense. What's your favorite color, favorite type of music, favorite pastime? Then there are harder questions like your favorite memory, who your friends are. Just to get a sense of who you are so when we get to the wedding I'll know all the right things to say."

You nod thoughtfully, turning back to the stone pond as you sip delicately from your glass.

"My favorite color is lavender," you whisper.

There's a softness to your voice, a type of vulnerability that Jeongguk swallows thickly at. He finds himself thinking about your mansion, lavender is nowhere to be seen. Colors that aren't black and white simply don't exist in this expensive realm and while he thought that might be a stylistic choice, the way you've just spoken tells him about a million and one things all at once.

You're so very broken and these people that are getting married are the cause. He assumes that you were vastly different to the person you are now and he wonders for a moment what that person was like.

"Favorite type of music… I'm not sure I only listen to opera now," you answer, staring down at the water as it ripples at the slightest breeze.

"Why opera?" Guk inquire innocently.

"Drowns out the pain…"

God, you're fucking morbid.

You're absolutely horrified that you're coming off as this kind of psychopath. But then again, didn't you want this? Didn't you want people to fear you? Didn't you want to push people away and keep yourself locked in a castle of hard, sterile and nauseating?

"I'm sure it must be really difficult to open up and I'm sorry if it's pushing you. I just want to make these people eat their own shit and the only way I can do that is finding out more about you," Jeongguk offers, reaching over the table and laying his large hand over yours.

The chill from his many rings makes a shiver shoot down your spine and you find yourself trying to become smaller in front of him at the feeling.

He does want these people to pay. He wants them to rue the day they ever thought it would be alright to hurt you. It doesn't happen often when he finds himself aching for his client, usually because they only need him for a high school reunion or a date to their parents' holiday and they promised they have a boyfriend to get them off their backs. But he does feel your pain, he does understand even with the most minute information.

"What about your favorite memory?" Guk asks, trying to lighten the mood.

The question makes you think hard. You try to recall your happiest moments and although they're locked behind some doors, you think you might have a skeleton key somewhere nearby.

"I'm thinking," you promise.

The escort only nods carefully, still keeping his hand on top of yours as he looks around the perfectly kept garden.

He's coming to realize that all this money you have and the life you live is simply a show. If someone was to speak to you for more than two minutes they would realize what a complete and utter set up this is. You're living your life like an actress in a play, just letting the setting pieces set up behind you while you stand alone on stage.

Chloe was the opposite. She was boisterous and cantankerous and everything he didn't want to know but she drew him in so fast that it wasn't easy to leave when she sunk her expensive nails into him.

He wasn't moved by her, he wasn't hoping to help her -- he was merely with her. He was moving her set pieces for her so she could stay in the spotlight.

And suddenly Jeongguk realizes that he's drawing parallels between you and his ex which isn't right.

"My favorite moment is when my dad took me to the zoo for the first time. Zoo tickets were really expensive for my family back then. We barely did any activities besides going to the park because it was, y'know, free. But my dad knew how much I loved animals and how much I wanted to see them in person," you begin with a deep breath.

The escort can see how deep in your memories you are, the way your irises flit back and forth as if you're reliving right in this exact moment and the corners of your lips flickering upwards like a smile will almost crack your face like perfect china. But there's something endearing about it.

So perfectly endearing.

"I went the whole day running around and seeing all the animals, we stayed until they closed the gates and my dad even got me a stuffed animal to commemorate it even though he had to take money out of the rent for it. It's one of the best memories I have. I still have the little elephant upstairs in my bedroom," you finish, turning to Guk with a smile.

Your smile is true and wide, showing your perfectly white teeth beneath your dark berry lipstick and Jeongguk can feel his heart stutter for even a fraction of a second.

There is no way in hell he's not getting invested.

And there's no way in hell that he's leaving that wedding without making both of your ex's hate that they ever hurt you.

<---- Previous Chapter                                           ----> Next Chapter

[madeintheniamh]

I feel like Lottie gives me rebel teen vibes compared to Tilly...... so could we please please have a one shot of teen Lottie doing something rebellious ;)

hehehe... loved writing this one

a hairstyle for a styles

stmf one shot #19

You weren’t that fussy with how the girls looked growing up- whilst Tilly was more similar to you in that she liked to have her hair done and wear matching socks and fancy dresses, Lottie followed much more closely to Harry. But you did have a rule, which was that you wanted the girls to keep their long hair. Both of them had inherited the typical Styles hair genes- with Tilly’s hair being long and dark blonde, and Lottie’s being a mad, curly chocolate brown lob that formed ringlets around her head. There were only a few things that Lottie didn’t like about herself- she was much more confident than her older sister- but her hair was unfortunately one of those things.

new imessage from kitty:

just chop it. you’re gunna look amazing 😉

“Fuck it,” she muttered to herself, as she took the scissors to her hair and made the first cut. “Fuck,”

It was shorter than she had intended, with the offending chunk now barely touching her collarbone, whilst the rest of her hair still rested halfway down her spine. There was no going back, she thought, as she took the rest of the thick curly lob in her hand and chopped it off at her neck, and then proceeded to stare in the mirror for a good-few-minutes, realising her mistake, her long brown hair now scattered all over the bathroom floor. She was glad you weren’t home, but she had no clue what she was going to do when you did arrive home.

The first person to see the botched haircut was Tilly, who audibly gasped.

“Oh my god,” She screamed. “Your hair,”

She ushered Lottie downstairs, still virtually screaming at this point. Harry was sat in the living room, guitar in hand, as the noise made him look up.

“Hey my best girls, whoa, wow,” He choked slightly. “What happened?”

“I think it looks better,” Lottie smiled.

“Better!” Tilly scoffed, running her hands through her sister’s hair. “It looks like a toddler’s cut your hair!”

Harry sat up slowly. “It looks good, from the front,” He laughed. “But it’s not very even, and what is your Mum going to say when she gets home?”

“Why,” Tilly moaned, as she directed Lottie towards one of the barstools in the kitchen. “Your hair was so nice,”

Harry laid one of the tea-towels out on the floor, and grabbed a pair of scissors from the cupboard, passing them to Tilly.

“You want me to use these? On hair?” Tilly gasped. “These are for cooking!”

“We don’t really have a choice,” He sighed. “Just try and make it a bit better before your Mum gets home, surely it can’t get much worse,”

Tilly’s brows furrowed in concentration as she attempted to make both sides of her sister’s hair even, with a lot of colourful sounding words escaping from her mouth in the process. Harry stayed watching the entire time, laughing every-time Tilly would forcefully grab hold of Lottie’s chin and wrench it upright.

“Stop moving, or it’s going to be even worse! And stop laughing, Daddy, it’s not funny,” she scolded, whacking Harry’s back with one of the tea towels they had laid out on the back of the chair. “This is serious,”

Twenty minutes later, Lottie’s hair looked somewhat better. Whilst it was still slightly uneven, it was pretty good considering that Tilly had never cut hair before, and in the process, Harry had called his hair stylist to come round the next day and try and make it look a little bit more presentable.

“Quick, hide!” he shouted, as he heard the front door unlock, you entering the house with a few bags full of shopping. You pretended to not have heard all three of them shuffling around in the kitchen, as Tilly attempted to shove the scissors back in the drawer. When you walked in, Harry was stood in front of Lottie, blocking her from your view, Tilly stood next to him.

“Harry,” You began to laugh, as you put one of the bags down on the worktop. “Why are you standing like that,”

“Like what?” He asked, a dimple beginning to show on one of his cheeks. “Just standing here, that’s all,”

“Tilly,” You looked over at her. “I feel like you and your Daddy are up to something, I hope you’re not playing pranks on me again, I told you to stop that,”

She smirked slightly, trying to avoid your eyes, but found Harry’s instead, and they both burst out into a roar of laughter, their movement revealing Lottie to be sat behind them.

“Your hair!” You gasped. “Harry! Did you encourage this?!”

“We were trying to fix it!” He laughed. “To be honest, it doesn’t look half bad,”

“Lottie, why didn’t you just tell me, you wanted it shorter.” You sighed.

“You wouldn’t have let me anyway!” She replied, standing up from the chair. “And Daddy says it looks good, so it’s fine,” She winked at Harry, as she lent into his arms.

“It does look good, Lottie baby,” He played with a loose strand of her now shoulder length hair with his fingers. “But you always look good no matter what, my best girl,”

________

there you have it. my full intro to rebel teen lottie. more will come soon. thank you to my bestie becca for helping me craft lottie’s personality somewhat (we have many secrets about both her and Tilly that will be revealed gradually teehee)

this forms part of my slipping through my fingers series! I have linked the masterlist for the rest of the series here. as always if you have any requests feel free to send them to my inbox and I will try my best to write them for you. love you all have a wonderful Sunday and week xxx

(my ear is still throbbing from having my helix pierced today so I’m going to bed now)

[spahhzy]

Jaune: Hey, Bleiss, nice tie! *thumbs up* How are you?

Weiss looks at annoyed: Arc has mistaken me for some buffoon named Bleiss . It seems logical cause she also works at 'H&H' and does the exact same thing I do. She also has a pension for exquisite dresses and great glasses. We even go to the same stylist, although I have slightly better hair..

Jaune: So how goes the Dust deals and photoshoot?

Weiss: it's...going exceptionally well.

Jaune: Really? That great! Oh, uh, and how's Pyrrha? She is a really great girl, isn't she?

Weiss: Oh yes, I'm very lucky...

Yang: VB! Congratulations on the new sales record!

Jaune: Ah gee, thanks!

Blake: Listen, Jaune, Fish?

Jaune looks at them before pulling out a picture and hands it to Blake: Get that to Ren for next weeks photo cover challange, and you know me, Blake, I'm just a phone call away!

Blake takes the picture: What about friday?

Jaune: Oh can't unfortunately I got a dinner reservation at 8:30pm at Ambrosious with Neo.

Yang, Blake, and Weiss look at each other before Jaune waves goodbye to them.

Yang: How the hell did he get a Friday night reservation at Ambrosious!

Blake: maybe he is bluffing.

Weiss looking at the photograph still in Blake's hands, reaches into her bag before also pulling out a photograph.

Yang: What's that ice queen?

Weiss slides the photo to the group, revealing a back shot of the Schnee Cheeks.

Weiss: New photo from the photoshoot. What do you think?

Yang: wooah, very nice!

Weiss: Nora emailed them to me yesterday.

Blake: Nice Pose.

Weiss: Jack-o-pose, and the lighting was natural sunlight.

Yang: That's very cool, Ice Queen, but that's nothing... look at this.

Yang reaches into her bag and pulls out a photo of her as well, She too was in the same Jack-O-pose her butt was the main feature of the photo, as well as some of her breasts were visible due to the size of Yang booba's.

Yang: Jackopose while using these ol' girls to spice up the rest...what do you think.

Weiss swallowed a lump in her throat as the jealousy began to set it.

Blake: Woah, look at you getting all fancy. Who would a thought?

Weiss: I can't believe Blake prefers Yangs ass too mine!

Blake: But wait... you haven't seen anything yet.

Blake sets Jaune's photo down before digging into her own bag and pulling out her own photo.

Blake: Feast your eyes on the bellabooty...

It was Blake in the exact same Jackopose as Yang, Weiss, and nothing was different from them others but could tell the her butt was bigger than both Weiss and Yangs.

If Weiss's jealousy wasn't skyrocketing already, it was now.

Weiss kept a straight face as she rubbed her hands together.

Weiss: Impressive...very nice...hey let's see Jaune's photo!

Blake and Yang looked at each other before putting away their photo's timidly as Blake flipped over Jaune's photo, and Blake showed Jaune photo to Weiss.

Jaune was doing some barbell squats, in only but some shorts, the sweat gleaming down his body, but nothing was more proficient than the indomitable Arc Ass.

Weiss: Look at those glorious round cheeks, the tasteful thickness of them...oh my god, I could get lost in them!

Weiss dropped the photo from her hands before standing up and walked out without a word to the others, whomst just looked at her confused.

-

Weiss is feeling 'Hip to be Square'.

[eclecticysm]

Rethinking Taylor Swift's "Lover" Bodysuit

Image from Vogue, shot by Jeff Kravitz

When Taylor Swift began her Era's tour last year in March, it quickly swept the nation. The movie was a hit, she was topping charts, and everyone and their mother was trying to get tickets. One costume in particular from this tour (okay, a lot of them) became a big hit: namely, the "Lover" era bodysuit. Made by Versace, beaded to the nines and sparkly as a disco ball, there's no denying this bodysuit is a beautiful showstopper. But is it the right choice in costume for Taylor and her "Lover" album? Now, take all this with a grain of salt. Taylor Swift is beautiful no matter what she wears, and the costume is undoubtedly gorgeous. However, I think with a little more intentionality and thought towards the album she's performing for, her look for Lover could be an absolute showstopper.

In my personal opinion, the "Lover" bodysuit simply isn't suited to the album it's for, nor does it work as well on Taylor as it should. It's a beautiful costume, but it isn't styled on her at all. Her hair is straight with bangs, and her makeup is a light shimmer look with a red lip- an iconic and gorgeous look for Taylor, but not one that can stand up to how bold the bodysuit is. This combined with the lack of accessory beyond a necklace, and the bodysuit unfortunately drowns Taylor out.

I'll get into why I think the bodysuit doesn't work for the album and the direction I think her team should have taken in a moment, but I first want to focus on how this bodysuit COULD have been made to work if their hearts were really set on it. The bodysuit is bold. It's festival wear, something you might wear for a show out in Vegas. A bold costume needs bold styling. A little hair and makeup goes a long way. Bringing back her windswept curls from her initial Fearless era, using a pinker shade of lipstick and a darker tone of eyeshadow would have done wonders for this look. (Getty Images)

I want to point out again that Taylor's accessories are very minimal for this costume. The boots are a good accessory on their own, and the necklace is nice, but there's a lack of balance: there's nothing on her arms or her ears. (Kevin Mazur via Getty Images)

With a little more accessorizing, this costume would be taken to the next level. Gloves are a fun way to do it, but for the soft romantic vibe of "Lover" and the playfulness of this costume, the way to go is some crystal jewelry. Think big. I've chosen some pieces from Swarovski to compliment the look. Some fun blue earrings, some bracelets to layer, and you can never go wrong with a big ring. (There's a million ways to go for this, of course- these are just examples.)

And there's way to go further with it. A big fur coat, to really play into the vintage romantic feel! Hair gems! Really fun nails! This is a costume that I feel has a lot of wasted potential: While I still don't think it suits "Lover", I think it really could've been an even bigger moment than, admittedly, it already was. I have a different vision for the "Lover" costume, though! Now, I'm no pop star stylist who works with Versace... but I do love to offer my own two cents. First things first, we need to consider the 'vibe.' "Lover" is a soft and romantic album with a little pop playfulness. Think "Cruel Summer" and "Paper Rings". It's fun music, but it's not quite the same vibe as "Lady Gaga in Vegas" as the costume might lead you to believe.

I also want to consider Taylor's general vibe over the years. Her fashion, her music, her marketing- it's very light and airy, and she has an almost vintage feel to her look.

I think there's a way to combine the bold, sexy and playful feel of the Versace bodysuit while fitting the vibe of the album and Taylor's personal look: Go for the old Hollywood look. Silken robes, soft wavy hair, and Taylor's signature red lip. Maybe even a feather boa, if we're really feeling fun!

These are some example pieces I think would make for a fantastic "Lover" look. (They're silk lingerie gowns and robes from Apilat Wedding, a custom wear lingerie and boudoir wear brand.)

I think the flirty and playful lingerie look could work really well for the "Lover" album, especially considering her ever so romantic performance of the song "Lover" with the dancing couples on stage. Pair it with square cut diamond earrings and some sparkly stiletto heels, and you've got a certified Moment on your hands.

I want to reiterate that I think the iconic bodysuit IS a cute look. I just think it could have been styled better, or perhaps used in a context it makes more sense for.

I want to cap this off by pointing out a costume from the Era's tour that I think Taylor's styling team did a fantastic job on: Her brand new "Midnights" bodysuit by Zuhair Murad. (Getty Images)

This is a costume that's well styled, well suited to Taylor, and fits the vibe of the album it's for. "Midnights" has more of a mysterious diva vibe to it than "Lover" does, and this costume embodies that. It's styled well- the fringe jacket is very "Taylor", the bold red lip fits the deep blue of the costume well, and while I still think it could use a little more jewelry without the jacket, the garter and the slight mussed up hair goes a long way in making this look like a cohesive look. Plus, I won't lie, I'm a sucker for a starry motif. <3

What do you think about Taylor's "Lover" era costume? Do you have any thoughts on how you'd style it? Do you think it works as is? If so, why? Reply, send in asks, get discussing! <3 Stay cute, Ky

[dewdewick]

Shadows in the dust | Chapter 4

Pairing/s: Finnick Odair x fem reader

Summary: At the age of 18 you thought you’d soon be free of the hunger games, unfortunately fate has a different plan. You are picked as a tribute for district 2 and thrust into capitol life.

Warning/s: Angst, Hurt/comfort, Trust issues, Death, disassociation, murder, Animal murder, Blood, Torture, Mental illnesses, manipulation tactics, Weapons, Swearing, Canon typical violence, Mentions of psychological distress, Use of Y/N, Fem reader, descriptions of clothing reader wears, explicit descriptions of weapon use

A/N: wrote part of this on a plane lol. Hopefully y’all like it! As always thank the betas and I love them.

Word count: 5.0K

*******************************************************

She smiled at the young man next to her, scooting over and snuggling into his chest. Just one more moment of comforting human interaction, one quiet moment of peace. She felt a bit numb, her vision a little fuzzy. Today might be the day she died, today might be the day Finch died. And no matter what only one person was coming out alive.

His arms wrapped around her and he let out a sleepy grunt, his chin resting atop her head. “Mornin' sugar” he mumbled out, his morning voice deeper but soft at the same time. She took a deep breath, it felt as if she hadn’t been breathing for an hour. She blinked the fuzziness out of her eyes and spoke her good morning into his chest. He only chuckled, a tired sigh following his laughs.

“What time is it?” he asked gently, his fingers playing with the collar of the silky pajamas she wore. “No idea, but I'm sure they'll be in to prep us any minute.” she grimaced, holding him a bit tighter. He hugged her back just as tight, “I promise I'll come find you, just find somewhere to hide and run away from the cornucopia. I'll get supplies and come find you ok?” he whispered in her ear. “I’ll keep myself alive, I'm not above making a poison or two if I have to. Plus almost every arena has rocks to throw. You worry about not getting killed ok?” she said, a determined feeling in her gut, it swirled with fear and hunger, a displeasing blend of emotions.

“I'll still find you.” he repeated, pulling away to sit up a bit and look at her face. He stuck out his little finger, “pinky promise” he grinned. She interlocked her finger with his as she laid on her back, a smile present on her face as well. He laid back in their mess of pillows and blankets, their fingers remaining intertwined as long as they had left. As she predicted their mentors came to fetch them and get them ready separately, the warmth of their hands disappearing quickly. Two avoxes followed and as she and Finch left the room she saw the dismantling of their fort.

Aerith took her to a separate room and gave her breakfast, a spread of everything she could remember within her time in the capital. She had a cup of hot chocolate and looked at her pinky, curling it into the rest of her fingers. When she finished her food she was dressed in a loose sweater and pants. Aerith then moisturized her face and put a chapstick on her lips. It was a quiet and repeated activity for Aerith, like washing a dish or throwing out trash.

The old woman took her to an elevator, ushering her in as the doors closed. The elevator shot up quickly, taking them to the roof where a hovercraft awaited. Peacekeepers took note as they boarded the craft, assigned seats waiting for them. She sat next to Aerith and her leg bounced a bit as she waited, watching the other tributes walk in with their stylists as well. After a moment Finch walked in, trailed by Hebe who sat next to her. The kind woman gave her a reassuring smile and took her hand, squeezing it lightly.

It was about 5 minutes before the last tributes and stylists entered the hovercraft, taking their seats before the vehicle took off. Men and women in white coats began to walk around, starting with district 1. She heard Dutchess and Ammo make small pained noises, her hand gripping Hebe’s a bit tighter. A woman approached her “Give me your arm” she said authoritatively, reaching out.

She gave her left arm, wrist up and the woman took it. Quickly she jammed a needle under the skin, pulling a trigger. A small light blinked under her skin and she made a pained noise. The woman pressed a gauze pad to her skin, moist from a salve. The wound cleared up quickly, as if it was never even there. The medical staff went to all the tributes to administer the trackers before they almost disappeared completely.

The craft was full of soft chatter, last minute advice and well wishes. Hebe kept her hand and Finch’s held the entire ride, a small gesture but comforting. Aerith gave her small bits of advice, mostly about finding water as soon as possible. She appreciated the help, even if she had been told a million times already. The craft landed abruptly, peacekeepers immediately opening the doors and ushering the district 1 tributes up.

She was taken with Aerith to an underground room and locked inside. Aerith looked at the wall where a garment bag hung and walked over, pulling out an army green jumpsuit and a dirt brown jacket. “Let’s get you changed.” Aerith instructed simply, unzipping the jumpsuit. She stripped down and Aerith gave her a sports bra and a fresh pair of underwear, waiting until she put them on. She then zipped her into the jumpsuit and fit like a glove, custom made just for her.

Shoes and socks were put on her feet and her hair was tied back as much as possible for fear of anything obstructing her vision. Finally Aerith took out the necklace she had been given by her family, her token. Her old but nimble fingers clasped it around the young woman’s neck. “There, all ready” She spoke softly, turning Y/N towards her. “I will tell you what I tell all of my tributes. Fight, run and most of all be ruthless. At the end of the day it’s kill or be killed and I know you best so I’ll be rooting for you. Don’t let them underestimate you because you aren’t a barbarian like your district partner. You are strong enough to fight and stronger than many I’ve seen win before.” She spoke lightly.

It was a confusing moment, being told to murder and that it was ok because she was loved. Somehow it made her a bit happy though, despite the vulgarity of it all. Aerith handed her a glass of water, trying to get her as hydrated as possible. She drank it in silence before a male voice informed them they had 2 minutes left.

Aerith had her stand, slipping the canvas jacket on her shoulders and zipping it up. She tucked any loose hair away, smoothing her hand over the young woman’s cheek. The male voice started to count down from 60, a glass cylinder opening in the corner of the room.

The young woman froze, true dread settling in her stomach. Aerith took her hand, leading her to the cylinder. “Don’t let them see you cry” she insisted as she placed the girl in the tube. The male voice only seemed to get louder, the time running out.

The door slid closed and she took a deep breath, her hands shaking. The platform rose and she was met with blinding sun and the familiar sounds of wind. As her eyes adjusted she looked around frantically, she was on a small platform surrounded by water. The gleaming cornucopia in front of her on an island of its own. She looked behind her to see a scorching desert, red rocks and all.

The screen on the cornucopia displayed the number 60 and the same man spoke. “Welcome to the 69th hunger games. May the odds be ever in your favor.” He said as the clock struck 50.

She looked around once more for Finch.

40

She saw Dutchess staring her down.

30

She cracked her neck and knuckles.

20

Her eyes met Finch’s, he nodded to a beach behind her.

10

She took a few deep breaths, getting ready to dive in.

0

Her ears rang as she dove in, swimming towards the shore as fast as she could. The water was fresh and ice cold, her skin prickling at the feeling. Water got in her mouth and she spit it out to breathe. She swam hard and fast, an arrow narrowly missing her head as she made it ashore. A tin water bottle sat on the shore alongside a single rope, she snatched it quickly and hunched down to avoid more arrows. Filling the bottle she looked up to see the young girl from district 7 running through the water to her.

3 arrows landed in the child’s body in quick succession, a gurgling sound escaping her as an arrow pierced through her eye. Y/N gave a horrified sputter as the girl fell into the water. Blood splashed her legs as the girl fell, the red liquid mixing with the water. It splashed at her feet and she picked up her rope and 2 nearby arrows. her feet nearly slipped as she tried to run. Sand and blood stuck to her wet shoes as she escaped across the beige landscape.

She heard both screams and cheers behind her accompanied by the ringing. Her heart pounded in her chest, her breathing just as erratic as she ran as fast as she could. Running across the bumpy terrain she saw a rock formation a distance away in her path. She passed red rocks more frequently as she made her way towards it, spotting a cluster at the base of a hill as she got closer. Skidding to a stop she slid behind them, bugs of all sorts skittering away as she made her landing.

She looked at the rope, forearm sized thin metallic bottle and 2 arrows in her hands as she caught her breath. She could still hear distant screams from the lake, now accompanied by a desert breeze. She looked up to see a large hill backing up to a cliff formation. Prickly cactus and tumbleweeds littered the ground, some with strange colors.

Cannons began to erupt and she counted until they stopped at 13. She sighed quietly, closing her eyes for a moment. 13 was more than half, she knew the tributes of these games meant business. Someone would be after her at some point and she needed to find shelter. Her mind drifted to Finch for a moment but she willed the thoughts away, not wanting to think of his possible demise.

She looked up at the rock formation behind her once more. Maybe there would be an overhang she could rest underneath? Anything would be better than hiding behind a few rocks out in the open. She stood, tying a loop at the end of her rope and starting to make the hike up the hill. She made sure to be as quick as possible, not wanting to be spotted by anyone.

She crouched down once at the top, looking over the horizon to see if she could spot anything. She saw a few people at the cornucopia but couldn’t make out faces really. As far as any other tributes she was out of luck, they were nowhere to be seen.

She walked as carefully as she could down the other side of the hill, cactus and thistle bushes littering the ground. Red rock slowly grew black, the texture feeling less dusty under her feet. She looked up to a rock she could see sticking out of the formation, deciding on it as a target. She knotted the rope a few times as footholds and threw the looped side to try and catch the rock. Eventually she did after a few tries, tugging on it to make sure it could hold her body weight. She placed the arrows between her teeth and grabbed the rope.

She hoisted herself up, using the knots so as to not fall or tear up her hands. She climbed as far as she could, holding the top knot with her feet and reaching the rock. She pulled herself up and sat, looking up at the rocks and spotting a higher overhang. It would be a good hiding place, at least until she could get her bearings.

She repeated her climbing technique until she got to the overhang. Exhausted by that point, she set her water and rope next to her as she sat in the crevice provided by the large rock. She finally had a moment to think, a moment to breathe.

She opened the water bottle, taking a few small sips. enough to wet her lips but not too much in effort to save it. Dust blew on the large hill in front of her, swaying the prickly bushes atop it. She saw a tiny bit of movement coming from the side of the hill causing her to fold in on herself.

Two cottontail rabbits sprang across the hill in a sort of race, a burst of brown, black and grey. She smiled at the sight, even in the arena animals were still animals. The two rabbits stopped to nibble at a patch of green weeds at the base of the kill. Their pink ears standing upright in caution. She looked to the arrows in her hand once again and then at the position of the sun. it would be ok to make a fire until dusk, the breeze would erase and smoke trail.

She took an arrow, aiming it for one of the rabbits and throwing it quickly and with force. Unfortunately for her it missed, sending the rabbits fleeing as quickly as they came. She sighed a curse under her breath, she would need a better weapon if she was to hunt. She looked out to the hill once more, spotting a few possibly edible fruits on top of cactus but nothing more.

She sat watching for almost an hour, that is until she once again saw movement. It looked as if a rock moved slowly across the base of the hill. She squinted, that couldn’t be right could it? Was she hallucinating?

She saw it move again, noticing small tan legs and a round head poking out.

A desert tortoise. She cringed to herself, she had seen it eaten before but declined to try it. The tortoise made its way slowly across the base of the rocks and she took a deep breath, looping her rope around the rocks. She made her way down to where the animal walked, picking up her arrow from the ground. “I’m so sorry Mr.Turtle” She said, mostly to herself.

She quickly stepped on the tortoise’s shell and drove the arrow into its head. Her hands shook as blood spewed from the animal's body. Her breathing picked up as her vision went blurry once more. Picking up the limp animal and gently setting it aside, she gathered some dry brush for a fire. All of this felt fake like a dream or hallucination that she was experiencing was this real? Was she actually dead in the water by the cornucopia?

She looked down at her hands, covered in blood and caked in dirt. Her fingernails, painted that pretty red color, now blended in with the blood sticking to her skin. And as suddenly as it all started, it stopped. She was herself, she was real, she was there, she was alive.

She walked up to a cactus nearby as she caught her breath and got her bearings, examining the fruit on top of it. It looked like a prickly pear, but it also looked off somehow. It had a bright red color, not as pink as she originally remembered. The thorns seemed wrong too, barbed instead of straight like normal. They were most likely poisonous, but that could come to her advantage at some point. She kept it in a mental checklist for later if she needed it.

She continued to collect the dry brush and sticks, using them to make a small fire. As the fire latched on to the wood she provided she added more, along with a few stones. She used the tip of one of her arrows to pry the bottom shell off the tortoise, her brows furrowed as she did. She used the sharp edge of the arrow to cut the head and legs off the animal. Disemboweling it onto the ground, she set the limbs and shell in the fire.

Once cooked she scraped the skin off, eating the meat inside. It had a strange taste, like a mix of pork and chicken. She ate all she could, using the arrow to scrape as much off the shell as possible. She placed the shell over what remained of the fire to dry it out, thinking she might be able to use it as a bowl or possibly storage late on.

Sitting in the dirt she looked up at the sky, it had to be late afternoon by then. The sun would set soon enough and she needed to get back to higher ground. She took the shell off the coals, standing and heaping dust onto the remains of the fire. Climbing back up to her perch, she looked out to the cornucopia again, a fire sat at its base.

She wondered who it could be that set it, Ammo and Dutchess? Possibly the careers from district 4. She once again willed any thoughts of Finch away, she would find out soon enough if he was alive. Another flicker of fire caught her eye instead, closer than she would’ve liked but far enough away that she felt safe. It sat to her right at another rock formation with a circular crater at the base. It didn’t seem like a smart place to hide in her mind, anyone who stumbled across it would have the advantage of the higher ground.

The fire was burning bright and she hoped whoever set it would stomp it out soon, she didn’t want to hear their screams. The sun started to set after a while of her observing the competition and she offered a small smile at the colors of the sunset. The clouds tinted pink and the horizon dipped into a dark orange and yellow color.

She laid with her head on the coiled rope and an arrow in her hand, watching the sky. She thought of how her family must be watching, she wondered if they were celebrating her success so far. She looked at her necklace, opening it and looking at the photos encased for just a moment. She took a deep breath and closed it, unwilling to cry at such a moment.

The sky continued to turn darker; pink, orange and yellow replaced by indigo and a deep violet. Stars peeking out from beneath clouds and all was quiet for a moment. Crickets chirped and she heard rustling from the ground below her perch.

The capital flag appeared in the sky, lighting it up in place of where the moon had just been. Music played as faces appeared, cannons once again booming. She watched the faces carefully, her mind checking off the dead. Both tributes from 3 dead, the boy from 5 and the girl from 6 joining. The boy from 7 appeared and she took a deep breath as it faded to the little girl she had barely begun to know. Once the girl faded she began counting again, the tributes from 10 and 9 appearing quickly. The girl from 11 and both from 12 finished the count.

The panem flag appeared again and then faded back to the moon. She closed her eyes in a mixture of sadness and relief. Sadness for the lives lost, so many children with no choice. Sadness for the families of the 13 children that would not be coming home. However the spark of relief lived in her heart, Finch.

Finch had lived, Finch was alive. She hoped the fire next to the cornucopia was his, she hoped he was safe. She let her eyes close once again as the breeze began to pick up, turning to wind. A chill ran down her spine as she huddled into her jacket.

The wind whipped and howled, an unnerving lullaby as she moved to the back wall of the overhang. She huddled into herself, her possessions kept close to her chest. Cold began to set in as she dozed off and for a short while she fell into a dreamless sleep, her situation and stress melted away into complete nothingness. It was only about 4 hours however until she was awakened by a mixture of strong winds and screams.

Her eyes snapped open as the wind and cold both whipped at her face. The sound of screams echoed from below, a sharp piercing noise from a girl. “They’re eating me! God help! they crawled out of the sand!” She shrieked into the darkness. Y/N couldn’t see what was happening but the other voice explained it for her. “What the hell are those things?! It looks like a Leech with a giant mouth!” The male voice yelled.

Horrible guttural screams followed from the girl as she begged the boy to stop touching her. “You’re losing blood! They’re sucking your blood!” He reasoned as the girl let out more pained wails. Y/N covered her ears, not wanting to hear anything else.

The girl screamed for hours, the boy only adding to her pain as he desperately tried to help. She screamed her throat raw, barely able to let out more than a cracked wail by the time the sky began to change to a light blue. Y/N had to get away, it was all too much. She took her possessions and crawled out into the wind.

She was immediately blown to her knees, the rock scraping her skin. She winced and let out a small pained noise as she felt small rocks embed themselves into her flesh. She did her best to crawl to where the wind wouldn’t hit as hard, looping her rope around a rock and climbing down to the ground. Screams seemed to be her companion, the girl letting out pained noises every so often.

Her feet landed in the dirt and she whipped her rope a few times to get it down. The wind was dying down a bit but it was still strong. She knew walking against it was a bad idea now that she was on the ground.

She would have to pass the two tributes in order to leave. A weight settled in her stomach as the sun began to peek over the horizon. She looked at her tortoise shell, arrows, water bottle and rope and wondered what weapon she could even use long distance. She supposed she could use an arrow but her aim didn’t seem great with the rabbits the previous day.

She stared at the objects, trying to think of an idea that could help her. Suddenly she heard shuffling nearby, she picked up a rock quickly and held it by her head, ready to throw. A small mule-deer came into view, obviously startled once it saw her as well. She stood still for a moment, eyes locked with the animal. Taking a slow step backwards, the rocks beneath her made a small crunch. Just like that the deer ran, gone as quick as it came.

She lowered her arm, her jacket whipping in the wind. She looked at the rock in her hand, smiling as an idea finally came to her. She took one of the arrows, whittling it against the upper edge tortoise shell. A hole big enough for her rope was made after a few moments and she quickly made two others just like it. She strung the rope through the holes and slung the makeshift bag over her head and onto her shoulder.

She took a few rocks, placing them in the shell with an accomplished smile. Clipping the carabiner of her water bottle to her contraption she began walking, towards the screams of another tribute.

She didn’t have to walk long in the light of dawn until she spotted them, the boy standing in protection of his friend. Unfortunately she was spotted as well, the boy held a pitchfork up to defend them. “Who are you?! What district?!” He demanded, his feet automatically assuming a fighting stance.

“2, but I’m not here to hurt you! I just want to find my friend!” She said with a raised hand, a buzzing returning to her ears. The boy raised a brow, walking towards her a bit. “And how do I know you aren’t lying?” He quipped, the pitchfork aimed at her abdomen. “I’m small and I have no experience fighting, I don’t even have a proper weapon” she said as she poised herself to run.

The boy gave a peculiar look but was interrupted by a wail from his partner who she couldn’t see. “Do you have medicine?” He asked quietly, lowering his weapon a bit. “No but I can try to make some, I’m good with herbs and I know what numbs pain.” She said, spotting a few yucca plants nearby. Her hands felt numb at the moment, a sensation as if cotton balls were filling her head.

“Help us and I’ll help you, I know how to kill rabbits.” The boy proposed, lowering his weapon a bit more. “But trick me and I won’t hesitate to kill you where you stand,” he warned. She only nodded, taking a few steps forward “Y/N” she said quickly, introducing herself as her mother taught. “Marpat, district 8.” He said quickly, motioning her to follow.

He took her to where his partner laid. She was pale, so pale it was a wonder she was alive. At the tribute parade she had a lovely dark complexion, but now it was like she was a different person. Fat slick black bugs sat all over her body and clothes, the skin around them raw and weeping. The large bugs had wings and thin limbs that looked as if they dug into the skin like needles. For some reason Y/N didn’t react to the insects, the smell or the gruesome sight.

After a moment Y/N spoke “Have you taken any of them off?” she asked, projecting calmness in her voice as she kneeled next to the girl. “I tried, Kuba wouldn’t stop screaming.” Marpat explained with an anxious voice.

“I can’t fix this…they’re sucking her blood, eating her skin.” She explained “they’re mutts, probably have barbed teeth or something like that” she added as she chewed her lip a bit.

“What do I do? I can’t kill her, she’s my friend.” He said desperately “can’t you get them off without it hurting? Or give her something to ease the pain?” He asked, kneeling next to her. “Even if I did, she’s dying. She’s not getting better.” She said, looking at the girl's face. Kuba had dried tears down her face and a tired look in her eye.

“Do you….want me to do it?” Y/n felt a calm but far away sensation coming over her. It was like she was slowly losing herself, losing consciousness while she was awake. Marpat had a terrified look in his eye but he looked down at his friend's emaciated body. He slowly nodded, turning and walking a few feet away, as to not see what was about to happen.

Y/n felt as if she was sleepwalking, watching her hands as she picked up one of her arrows. She looked down at the dying child in front of her and did the unthinkable. She slit her throat, her hand over the girl's eyes as she was splattered with blood. She felt so incomprehensibly numb, so cold, so not herself. She didn’t feel anything as she stared at the hot thick blood on her hands. It didn’t feel like what it was, it didn’t feel like anything. She barely blinked as she continued to cut deeper until the wiggling stopped.

She didn’t react when the cannon went off just as she didn’t react when Marpat called her name. However she did react when she was touched, whipping around and plunging the arrow deep right below the ribs of the person behind her. She felt so far away as he fell to his knees, so cold as he begged for his life. She felt like cotton filled her brain as she smashed his skull with a rock. It was like she was watching a movie, a clip from some other games past. Someone else was doing this and she didn’t have a choice but to witness the horrific scene.

It was like she was doing the dishes, taking out the trash. If she was conscious enough she might have wondered if that was how Aerith felt before the games. How it affected a person to watch children they personally knew die time after time. Instead she just picked up her things quietly, along with the pitchfork from the limp hands of Marpat. Walking into the desert as she could only really think of one word, Finch.

[indigosfindings]

tiff thoughts part 4

escape from the 21st century was, like, riotously fun. it's far from thematically empty (the time travel aspect is not subtle about what it represents), but it's not especially thought-provoking either--it's very "style over substance", but god it's a fucking great style. the action sequences, the stylistic flips & tone shifts, the animated flourishes, the off-the-wall humour--all extremely fun & aesthetically coherent. it's not concerned at all with the scifi stuff being Mechanically Internally Consistent, but frankly it doesnt need to be. the pacing is breakneck, and when it's funny it's hilarious

the shrouds is as mystifying as it is a testament to cronenberg's mastery of tone. the marketing led me to expect a deeply grim, sombre, still film, and nothing could have prepared me for its surprising degree of levity--not to mention mystery-thriller elements--and especially the fact that these things dont make it any less provocative! at first it comes off as structurally incoherent (it doesnt even really seem to be about the shrouds!) but by the end i felt that it was tied together in a deeply satisfying way--the themes of feelings of ownership emerging in grief & the synchronicity of the mysteries of death with the mysteries of both tech & politics were both meaty & toothy imo. the use of ambiguity, while very Pointed, was greatly to the film's benefit, the design of the shroud itself was amazing, & it was well-acted--the biggest stylistic weakness was the repeated sense that the script seems to be written with an expectation that the audience isnt, like, paying attention ("terri, your sister-in-law" "terri, your wife's sister" "terri, the sister of your wife" etc etc etc)

the strange cuts short film compilation was overall extremely strong! my thoughts on the 6 shorts:

gender reveal was fun and had a pretty biting sense of humour, but it was held back by the sort of narrative/structural directionlessness that's unfortunately common in short films--it's one of those things where the "writing prompt" is basically the entire story.

the sunset special 2 was EVERYTHINGGGGG. the audiovisual design is so fucking off the wall that i was barely suppressing the instinct to shriek for the whole runtime. it's creative in its critiques of both advertising & vacation culture, and it manages this with one of the craziest aesthetic sensibilities ive ever seen. i am OBSESSED. the sudden allusion to resident evil drove me insane. a short film crafted with the soul of the bug

the beguiling was tight & sharp. enamoured with the idea of racefaking-as-horror. extremely accurate in its skewering of a specific Kind Of Guy. it's tense, contained, well shot, & well acted. the director apparently has a feature in the works, and im extremely excited

don't fuck with ba was solid. i liked how campy, stylized, & over-the-top the action was, and while the multilingual premise was fun (i LOVED the use of subtitles) it mostly parsed as, like, set dressing. the whole thing felt less like a coherent, self-contained short and more like a pitch or proof of concept for a movie.

stomach bug was pretty good. the body horror element is good, & empty-nest syndrome combined with xenophobia made a really intriguing vector. the sense of boiling tension is palpable

never have i ever was, like, fine? i guess? the entire premise & execution (1st-person POV of a woman being kidnapped and murdered) plays heavily into the sorts of cultural anxieties that orbit the true crime sphere, and those dont really do much for me. before the screening the host warned that the final short of the set was "unrelenting", "extremely scary", etc (and consequently like 20 people walked out before it came on!) but in practice it was so tame and pulled so many punches that it really wasnt that scary at all lol

[shawoluvs]

I never actually watched the video/clip in question where colorist remarks were made but I am glad an apology has been issued quickly and, what I hope, if genuinely. I didn't really want to make any sort of post when this all happened because my thoughts/feelings on the matter are coming from a place of privilege, but what I would like to say is that colorism is unfortunately not new to kpop as an industry, and it isn't a problem that stems singularly from idols. It is an issue with all areas of the industry, from make up artists and stylists to photographers and managers.

When an idol makes a colorist remark there is always a fully understandable flare up of anger and hurt, which is always valid, but we need to do better at calling out the consistent colorism that most fans (specifically white fans, myself included) don't always register. I'm talking about make up artists using skin-bleaching/skin-whitening make up on artists. I'm talking about photographers taking heavily filtered pictures and presenting them as fact. I'm talking about companies selling us whole photobooks of paper-white looking idols because their skin has been edited to look that way. I'm talking about the cameras and lighting on music shows purposefully washing idols out. I'm talking about even paparazi shots being white-washed to the extreme.

Fans, too, often contribute to this. It happens when fans post heavily edited white-washed pictures. It happens when fans positively engage with these white-washed promotional images. It happens most of all when colorist remarks are made and the first thing some fans do is run to an idol's aid and make excuses for them. Yes, idols are surrounded by colorism in their industry and fed the idea that paler complextions are more beautiful and desirable, but that doesn't mean we don't point out the prejudice in those beliefs. Just because they might not have meant any harm - and just because those opinions are normalised and encouraged by the industry around them - doesn't mean they shouldn't be informed of their prejudice. It's how people grow and change and, hopefully, how we not only make kpop a more welcoming place but the world as a whole.

To summarise. Colorism is a kpop-wide issue and should be called out. It does not start and end with the odd remark made by an idol, the industry as a whole needs to do better. Most idols are grown adults who can handle a little personal growth, you don't need to defend them as if they're children with no worldly knowledge. Stand with fans and don't be an arse.

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

Lovebirds

Timari January: Replacement (Art) by @maribat-calendar-events

Summary: They find an old project from art class while moving.

Back to Timari January 2023 Masterlist

Tim slumped on top of Marinette, his chin resting on her shoulder to let him see what she was doing in his darling box. “You know, it’s not right to snoop.”

She snorted dismissively, but her hands stilled where they had been sifting through the many photos he had opted to take with him to their new house. “You got nudes in here that you’re trying to hide?”

He rolled his eyes. “No, I have those in a separate box.”

Marinette made a choking sound and her head whipped around to look at him to see whether he was joking. He kept his face perfectly impassive.

She squinted at him for a moment before shaking her head, grinning. “Anyways, I just wanted to see. I haven’t gotten to look at your photos in ages,” she said.

“Can I go through to make sure you don’t see any of the bad ones?” He asked, smiling nervously.

“... why would you go through the effort to develop bad ones?”

He huffed. “I was a kid. I didn’t know about shot composition.”

“Then why keep them?”

He thought about it for a moment before shrugging. “Couldn’t get rid of them, I guess.”

She hummed lightly.

Tim shooed her off so he could lean over the box. She huffed a little, clearly not enthused at the idea of going back to unpacking, but did so without any real complaint. She resumed her desperate search for bedsheets, neither of them wanted to sleep on a bare mattress if they could help it.

He grabbed a handful of pictures, the laminated pages just barely sticking to his hands. And then he started flipping through them. A tiny smile made its way across his face. He hadn’t seen a bunch of these in years, and there was something kind of adorable about seeing how bad he had been back in the day. Some of it wasn’t his fault, admittedly, catching people in motion was difficult with a camera, especially at night, but still. Looking at the blurs of color on dark backdrops that he had used to think of as tastefully stylistic rather than unfortunate…

It was a simpler time.

Besides, it made the few good pictures littered through the box seem more amazing. A shot of Robin and Batman awkwardly standing in line for smoothies. A picture of Robin in free fall, his cape fluttering in the ‘wind��. A picture of Batman poised perfectly against a rare moon in Gotham, a dark silhouette against the light.

And then he reached something at the bottom of the box that was too large to be a photograph.

Maybe it was a collage?

He pulled out a large sheet of laminated paper. It took him a moment to recognize it, but when he did he laughed out loud. “Holy shit, Mari, look.”

She blinked once, setting down a random vase so she could make her way across the room to stretch over him. Her eyes sparkled with recognition. “Ooooooh, I remember that,” she said, leaning closer.

The ‘that’ in question was a finger painting mural that their class had collaborated on during art way back when they were about to graduate from kindergarten. The base was a professionally done drawing of a forest, the trees sporting an almost ungodly amount of branches. This wasn’t the main feature, though. It was a backdrop for the actual finger painting the kids had done. Really, it was less of an art project and more of a ‘stamp your thumb in a spot and then turn it into an animal’ activity.

“When I put my bird next to yours everyone went ‘ooooooooo’. A classic,” Tim said quietly, pointing to the pair of tiny fingerprints in the top right corner. They had both opted to turn theirs into birds, because it ‘just made sense, they were in trees!’, but you wouldn’t know that from looking at it. They looked like smiley faces with feet.

Marinette and Tim’s blue and red birds had overlapped somewhat, turning the area between purple. Marinette had insisted that he had ruined it by ‘turning them into a Venn Diagram’, he had cried, and she had cried because he was crying and had begged for forgiveness.

It was quite a day.

He rubbed the two laminated birds, smiling. His thumb nowadays could cover up both of their old fingerprints. “I’m guessing you don’t have your copy anymore?”

She pouted. “No. It was the worst day ever and I tossed it into a river before it got home. My favorite pink skirt got ruined, why would I want to remember that?”

He snorted into his hand.

“You’re laughing. That’s my villain origin story and you’re laughing.”

He grinned and pressed his hand against his mouth as hard as he could in hopes that that would muffle his amusement even partially. He could still remember the pure horror on her young face, which looked particularly pale when compared with the bright green paint that one of their classmates had spilled on her. At the time, that had seemed like the biggest thing to ever happen to them.

She grinned and took a seat next to him, her eyes on the pair of birds. She leaned into him a little, almost mirroring the way they leaned against each other in the picture. At least they didn’t meld together like the birds had, that would have been inconvenient.

She absently rubbed her thumb against her palm, as if remembering the way the paint had felt on her finger all those years ago. “I almost poisoned a bunch of customers because I forgot to wash off all the paint on my hand before helping my parents.”

“... wait. Is that why I got a bunch of bread the next day?”

She cleared her throat.

“You told me the blue was just food dye!”

“Technically, I said that the blue wasn’t mold. And it wasn’t.”

He sputtered.

“And, I mean, you’re fine now, so it’s all good.”

His eyes narrowed at her. She was avoiding eye contact, so she definitely felt bad about it. But. He would have preferred an apology. Since she wasn’t offering one, he thought it was perfectly reasonable to resort to torture.

“How do you know that? I could be un-bread for all you know.”

She groaned. “I’m going to strangle you.”

“I’m a ghost! You can’t do that! Your hands would go right through me but, hey, at yeast you tried!”

Her eye twitched. “One more,” she dared him.

“... hey, you don’t gotta be a brioche about it –!”

She grabbed him by the front of his shirt and dragged him into a kiss. “Shut up,” she muttered against his mouth.

And he did.

[crusherthedoctor]

1, 7, 12, 18 for Sonic :P

1. the character everyone gets wrong

All of them.

If I had to pick one, then I'll be predictable and go with Eggman. Other characters may come close or even exceed in terms of how often they're turned into something they're not (Sonic and Shadow being the two that immediately come to mind), but for obvious reasons, it's a bit more personally infuriating when it pertains to the good doctor.

7. what character did you begin to hate not because of canon but because how the fandom acts about them

I try not to let fandom alone sway my thoughts on a character too often, since I prefer to judge a character through… well, the character, and their showing in the actual product(s).

That said, there have been exceptions that are too overwhelming for me to ignore. Usually this relates to characters I already hated in the first place, like Surge, so it's no major loss. But for a more regrettable example… Amy.

Now let me make it clear that "hate" is MUCH too strong a word in this case, since I wouldn't say she's a straight up bad character or wish she'd be removed. I still like the basic concept of her character, and I still appreciate her good portrayals and what she's able to bring to the table.

But for a multitude of reasons - most notably, the one-two fuck you punch of Frontiers and Prime making me realise that the amount of times where I think she's been portrayed legitimately well pale significantly in comparison to how many times they've dropped the ball with her, even compared to other characters - she's unfortunately been losing me all over again. And the fandom's current attitude with her, such as their tendency to defend everything she does when they'd eviscerate her if it were any other character, their tendency to break their own rules in order to give Amy preferential treatment ("Respect the ordinary girl!… but plz let her go Super and be more powerful than Knuckles and Tails combined and one-shot Eggman's strongest robot and beat the entire cast in a fight tee hee"), their tendency to spark #Rally4Sally-style hysteria every single time she's not in something, and rabid Sonamy fans… acting like rabid Sonamy fans, has only amplified this.

Maybe the tide will turn yet again if she gets a string of better, less eyeroll-worthy portrayals in the future. But for now, when taking her overall history into account, I've come to the regretful conclusion that she's arguably the most overrated of the recurring game cast at this point in time, and ultimately the fanatic sides of her fandom are no different to that of Sally's.

There's also Silver. Like with Amy, "hate" is an exaggeration, but it's no secret that I've never found him that interesting, whether in his canon game form or the flanderized penis hour mood that Evan Stanley loves to turn him into. But in the distant past, I had frequent encounters with fans who would lash out at me if I said so much as a single negative thing about him. Needless to say, this did not raise my enthusiasm for the character.

Finally, the Freedom Fighters. On their own, they're probably not the worst conceptually, even if Sonic being a member himself doesn't work and goes against his character. But they are so hyped up the ass and touted as being infinitely superior to the game cast that I can't muster any goodwill for them anymore. This only increased after I was reminded of just how often they made massive dick moves in Archie, and how they rarely got called out on it in any meaningful capacity. So even putting their fandom aside, they're kinda hard for me to like anymore.

12. the unpopular character that you actually like and why more people should like them

Obligatory mention of Black Doom for being the Best Shit Villain, compared to Mephiles and all the other ones who are inexplicably popular. Black Doom was the key to all this, so I'm glad they got him working, cause he's a funnier character than we've ever had. He's stylistically designed to be that way. (Jokes aside, how sad is it that even with my unironic goggles on, there have been so many shit villains in this franchise that Doom isn't even in the top ten worst at this point?)

For a more sincere example, we have Marine. Everyone had a hateboner for her at the time, and some people still do (one of them being Flynn apparently), but I never found her annoying. I understood the development they intended for her, and I thought it was handled decently for the most part. I also scratched my head at the flack she received for her Australian accent and lingo, since I never saw anyone complain about Bunnie and Antoine's stereotypical Texan-ness and French-ness respectively… oh, right, they're Freedom Fighters, so they can get away with it. -_-

Then there's Elise, who was just underdeveloped at worst (that and having a realistic human design, but that wasn't exclusive to her), and did not deserve the vitriol that she ended up getting. As far as non-Blaze princesses go, I actually prefer her over Sally at this point, because Elise doesn't have an extended history of being an unreasonable prick to Sonic for bullshit reasons, and never tried to change him either. That Elise was the one in '06 who got labeled as the worst character of all time, when a literal recolor was standing right there, was one of the early indications to me that this fandom might not always have the most agreeable takes.

She's not outright hated like Elise is (was?), but since she has a similar dynamic with Sonic, I'll mention Shahra as well. I used to think she was a bit bland outside of her relationship with Majin Ganondorf, and I expressed that opinion even quite recently. But in the past month or so, in light of how much I've grown to either hate or be disillusioned with certain other characters, I'm beginning to appreciate her non-abusive partner-related traits a lot more now, and her bond with Sonic is admittedly sweet. The Sonic Likes Tall Girls meme we have going on may have also contributed. Secret Rings is still by no means a game I care much for outside of its villain and some level aesthetics, but Shahra is a good character in retrospect IMO.

And I share your appreciation for Infinite and Zor. I approve of the intent with Infinite's character and think it was handled well despite some rushed aspects, and fail to understand why people single him out for being one-note when this franchise is stacked with one-note villains, and Zor's lines are genuinely hilarious and I will die on that hill. The latter's transformation into Unironic Generic Edgy Guy #6 in IDW was devastating for me. :(

18. it's absolutely criminal that the fandom has been sleeping on…

Actually playing the games.

Eggman being a villain.

Eggman being a competent villain.

Rouge being more than who she is at first glance. As in, someone who is deceptively intelligent, more caring than she lets on, and will ultimately do the right thing despite her jewel thievery hijinks. AKA, not a villain.

The Hard-Boiled Heavies. They were rightly beloved come their debut, but ever since Mania came and went (and not counting their appearance in Seasons of Chaos that I'd prefer to forget), it's like fans collectively forgot about them. I'll say it till the cows come home: they had more personality in a game without dialogue than Sage did in a game with it.

Darkspine Sonic. It does have its fans, but it tends to get overshadowed by the lame as fuck Dark Super Sonic from X, and the equally lame as fuck Fleetway Super Sonic. I may not love Darkspine per say, but as far as dark forms go, I can recognize the thought that was put into it, and I appreciate that it allows Sonic to utilize his feelings in a positive way via keeping his rage focused on the guy who deserves it. This is much more in-tune with Sonic's character than a generic evil form would be, and it also avoids the unhealthy and unrealistic implications that anger, sadness, etc is inherently a bad thing that must be dismissed or concealed at all costs.

The Advance trilogy's soundtracks. Yeah, they get their kudos, but still not enough. >:[ I consider these compressed GBA ditties to be among Sonic's best, and find them more memorable and impactful than many a generic orchestral soundtrack you hear in plenty of games nowadays.

In light of Grass Simulator 2022, Sonic having an actual aesthetic of any sort. Other games did this so well, including CD, the Genesis and Advance trilogies, Mania, SA1, Heroes, Colours, Secret Rings, the Riders games, some of SA2, some of ShtH, even 3D Blast of all games. You can have all the technical graphic detail you want, but in the end, a plain grassy field does not fill me with inspired wonder in the same way as environments like Studiopolis, Night Palace, Red Mountain, Quartz Quadrant, or Twinkle Snow.

[disniq]

Season 1, episode 3, "Origins"

Prepare to get flashbacked, folks.

So, previously; Dawn was thrown off a roof, Rachel was kidnapped by The Family. And now, conveniently, Kori is parked below just the building right in time to see Rachel bundled into a sensible family car.

We get an entirely unnecessary flashback of Kori finding a photo in Rachel's house and killing a cop, which does nothing to show how she got from there to here but just go with it.

She follows The Family, who are on route to their boss. They stop at a gas station, and Kori takes the opportunity to burn Dad alive. (She also blows up the bathroom Rachel is in, but it’s fine, shh, “I think you’re safer with me.”)

This is what every family trips feels like when you're a queer neurodivergent

Dawn is in a medical coma at the hospital, and this somehow leads into another flashback of a young Dick with his social worker.

Bruce Wayne wants to foster him! Isn’t that great news, sure that won’t end badly for anyone.

Young Dick is taken to the huge castle-esque manor (which i love, btw) and shown to a bedroom so bougie it has it’s own chandelier and a walk-in closet already filled with teenage-boy sized clothes.

Bruce, dude. You’re coming on a little strong here.

Alfred is the only one a little dubious about this development;

(This is why the killed Alf off-screen.)

Unsurprisingly, Dick takes this as his cue to run away.

Back in the present, Dick gets a lead from a police colleague despite the fact that he just walked out a week ago and never went back to work lol. She helpfully tells him Rachel has been spotted on cameras with a a six foot black woman with magenta hair, who leaves charred bodies in her wake.

Meanwhile, Rachel and Kori head to the place in the photo, Saint Paul’s convent and bond over having uncontrollable powers and a total lack of understanding about themselves!

They stop at a diner, and Kori fucks some guys up for harassing the waitress to a disco soundtrack which is, undeniably, pretty dang cool.

More flashbacks - I’m so sorry, the pacing of this episode is a mess - and Dick social worker is very insistent that Dick give Bruce another chance. If only you knew, lady.

I do like the stylistic choices here, though. Having Bruce being almost entirely absent from these scenes makes his presence feel like the looming, intimidating thing it probably was, especially in the shots of the big, broody, empty Manor that young Dick is left to wander alone.

During one of those wanderings, he finds the garage full of classic cars and, rapscallion that he is, takes one for a joyride.

Remember when you antagonised the police, Dickie. Fun times.

Kori and Rachel reach the convent, which it turns out they have both been to before. Rachel was sheltered here as an infant with her fake mom, and Kori came by a year ago in her search for Rachel. It’s all very Nuns of the Chattering Order, and yes that does make Rachel the lost antichrist.

There’s an arcade down the street that Kori has a mysterious locker key for, so she takes Rachel there and exchanges the key for… a second key!

Rachel gets to eat, play some pinball, and meet a fellow protagonist!

Dick - who used his super secret Bat-tech to track Kori’s numberplate - also turns up at the arcade. For plot convenience, he gives Kori the benefit of the doubt despite her record thus far and both of these untra-violent people actually talk out a problem from once! Yay!

You, ah. You forgot the *checks notes* six counts of murder so far.

Turns out the cops think Rachel killed her fake-mom, so Dick, who a day ago was looking to wash his hands of this kid, suddenly feels responsible for her. Kori, who gently kidnapped Rachel for entirely self-serving purposes, has also apparently decided over the course of the last half an hour that she too can't let Rachel out of her sight, so they all go back to the convent together.

This is, unfortunately, what counts as relationship development in this show.

We get one final Baby Dick flashback, wherein Dick admits to his social worker that he’s not running away and stealing cars for fun, he’s running away and stealing cars so he can hunt down his parents’ murderer and kill them.

Bruce overhears this conversation, and leaves Dick a letter offering him a job better way.

Elsewhere, The Family (minus Dad) report to Dr Adamson, a creepy guy with an egg fetish who really wants Rachel to open the door. He magnanimously decides to give them one more shot.

Bet you thought I was kidding about the evils of heteronormativity, huh

ANYWAY, back to the convent and the A plot!

We get this conversation between Dick and Rachel, which I think informs a lot about Dick’s relationship with Bruce, and also his attitude towards Jason later.

Dick: Listen I need you to-- Rachel: What?! Trust you? “Other people can help”, is that it? No they can’t. They’ll just make promises, but in the end they’ll fail. They’ll all leave, just like you. Dick: Yeah, you’re right. Rachel: What? Dick: You’re on your own. No one can help you, not really. I was just like you once. Thought if I leaned on someone, if I trusted them, all the pain would go away. I was wrong. Anybody that tells you any differently is lying. The loss is here for good now, there is no getting over it. But you can control it, you can channel it. No one else can do that for you. Just you.

Kori takes the opportunity to steal Dick’s car, to head to the storage locker her second key opens, and Dick chases after her. Depite both of their promises not to abandon Rachel again, there they both go!

And, surprise surprise, the nuns immediatly drug the kid!

Turns out, the nuns want to lock Rachel in the basement to keep her away from her father and prevent her from being used to unleash evil upon the earth.

It… doesn’t go well for them.

Kori finds her Connecting the Dots meme storage locker, full of alien writing and pictures of Ravens. Dick shows up, and together they piece together enough of the murderboard evidence to decide Rachel is the Devourer of Worlds, part of a prophecy. WooOOoooOOOo *spooky hands*

They’re interrupted by a sudden earth-shaking explosion, because guess what?

Rachel BLEW UP THE FUCKING CONVENT

[Titans Rewatch]