#(no honestly i’m very disappointed in myself that my time management failed me once again. bc i wanted the chapter to go up at 7pm not 11pm

[celestial-toys]

*closes 13 tabs on astrology and greek mythology*

ES Ch.5… is now complete.

[mardiecarisusassy]

Back in elementary school, around grade 3, I joined a declamation contest. My mother, a dressmaker, created a chef's costume for me because my piece was titled "Peppi the Proud Pizza." I practiced diligently, memorizing every line and preparing to win.

When competition day arrived, I remember standing in our school's auditorium, which could probably fit around 150 people. I stood in front of all those faces, ready to deliver my piece, but suddenly, all the preparation disappeared from my mind. The only words I could manage were, "It was a rainy day when Peppi was made."

I looked at my teacher, who was encouraging me with her gestures and facial expressions, silently telling me, “You can do it.” But the words just wouldn't come. Eventually, I walked off the stage. Later, at home, I laughed it off, but deep down, I felt disappointed in myself. I never joined another declamation contest again.

Fast forward to today, there's an organization at work called the Toastmasters Club. It’s a group where everyone is encouraged to practice public speaking. I signed up, hoping to improve, only to discover that there was an audition process. To qualify, I had to deliver a 5-minute speech, which came as a surprise. I had assumed I could just join to practice without the pressure of an audition. For a moment, I considered backing out. I didn’t feel ready to stand in front of people again. Memories of my childhood declamation failure resurfaced, making me doubt myself.

But then, I decided to push through. I chose to base my icebreaker speech on my favorite Japanese proverb: "Nana korobi ya oki," which means, "Fall down seven times, stand up eight." It felt fitting, not just for this moment, but for my life. Despite past failures, it's a reminder to keep going, to keep standing back up after each fall.

The proverb encapsulates what I needed to do at that very moment, try again, face my fears, and give it my best shot, regardless of the outcome. It’s about resilience, perseverance, and knowing that failure is just part of the journey. Whether I succeed or not in this audition, the important thing is that I stood up once more and gave it another try.

I was thrilled when I found out that I secured a spot in the Toastmasters Club. It was a proud moment for me because I knew that I wouldn't have been accepted if my icebreaker speech wasn’t good enough. I felt a surge of confidence, knowing that all my preparation had paid off.

Then came my first meeting. I assumed I would just observe since I was new, but to my surprise, I was called to participate in a 2-minute impromptu speech. When they announced my name, I nervously said, "I’m not prepared, but okay, I’ll try."

The topic was about whether it’s better to apologize in person or through other means. I had a few seconds to gather my thoughts, but when I stood up, the first words that came out of my mouth were, “Thank you for that wonderful question,” as if I were in a beauty pageant! I couldn’t help but laugh at myself afterward. My grammar was off, and I failed to deliver a clear point. Honestly, the speech was a mess.

In that moment, all the confidence I had gained plummeted. I felt embarrassed and disappointed, but thankfully, the feeling didn’t last long. I realized that this experience was exactly what I had signed up for, to improve. I received feedback afterward, and it became clear to me that this feedback is what I truly needed, not perfection.

My realization is It’s easy to feel discouraged after a mistake, but moments like these teach us the value of humility and growth. Not every attempt will be perfect, and that’s okay. What matters is our willingness to keep trying.

Failure doesn’t define us, how we respond to it does. Whether it’s stumbling in a declamation contest as a child or fumbling through an impromptu speech as an adult, each experience adds a layer to our growth. It’s in those moments, the ones that test our self-confidence, that we build resilience. We learn to laugh at ourselves, pick up the pieces, and move forward a little wiser than before.

[invisibleanonymousmonsters]

Father of Mine – 2/2

Character: Bruce Wayne x Daughter!Reader

Summary: With the tragic passing of her mother, Y/N learns to the truth of who her father is.

Word Count: 4,100+

Warnings: absent father, subtle violence, mention of family death

A/N: The reader is described as tall in this fic. Bruce Wayne is 6′2 and I’m tall, so I’m indulging myself with no apologies. Read it or don’t.

Part 1

Bruce was working in the cave when Alfred interrupted him.

“Master Wayne, a guest has arrived unexpectedly.”

Bruce gave him a strange look. Hardly anyone showed up to the manor unannounced.

“Ms. Y/L/N,” Alfred added.

“Right,” Bruce sighed.

“She’s waiting for you in your office.”

Bruce found Y/N pacing in the room, refusing to take the seat that he was sure Alfred offered her.

“Y/N,” he greeted, remembering how she disliked the formalities last night.

She whipped around at his greeting. “Am I your charity case now?”

He feigned confusion. “I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about.”

She looked offended by his lie. “Don’t insult my intelligence. You paid all of my outstanding expenses that my mother left me.”

Bruce opened his mouth.

“Don’t try to lie to me,” she warned.

Bruce closed his mouth.

“Look, I don’t need your help,” Y/N sighed in obvious irritation. “Did you or did you not pay them?”

He took in a shallow breath, “I did.”

Y/N clenched her jaw as Bruce finally admitted his deed.

“I was only trying to help.”

“You can’t just throw money at me and expect it to make up for being a no-show.”

Bruce tensed. 

Did that mean…Did she know?

“You read the letter?” He asked.

“No,” she clarified. “But I figured it out.”

“I had no idea,” he tried to tell her.

“I don’t care,” she almost snorted.

“You have ever right to be angry with me…”

“I’m not angry. I’m annoyed.”

She took a defiant step toward him and crossed her arms.

The heeled boots she had on caused her already tall height to make her be eye to eye with Bruce. 

How many people had faced off with Batman and cowered with fear? 

But she didn’t submit or show any signs of intimidation.

“Do you think I cried myself to sleep every night as a child, wondering where my dad was or why he didn’t want me?” Y/N hissed.

Bruce didn’t respond.

“You think I give a fuck about the father-daughter dances? Or whatever the hell people think dads are only capable of doing?” She narrowed her eyes. “The thing is…I didn’t need you. I didn’t need you then and I don’t need you now.”

Bruce felt sick as he listened to her.

“I have the sneaking suspicion that you wouldn’t have been there for those anyway,” she added roughly. “My mom loved me more than enough. I didn’t need anyone else. And she made damn sure of that.”

“So I’m not your charity case to make yourself feel better after my mom made it clear she thought it was better to keep me from you, than to ever tell you that I existed. Says a lot about what kind of person she thought you are, huh?”

When Y/N finally stopped, she was taking deep breaths.

Bruce wondered how long she had that all bottled up. He didn’t think anything she said was a lie. Y/N didn’t need him. That had become clear.

She had grown up to be a successful, intelligent, and independent young woman.

And she got that way without a father figure of any sort.

After a few moments, Bruce finally bowed his head and cleared his throat. “I never intended on making you feel like a charity case.”

Bruce saw as Y/N took in a deep breath and the guilt slowly took over her expression.  

“Look,” Y/N sighed, “we finally know the truth. Let’s just…let’s just move on with our lives. OK?”  

Bruce couldn’t deny that the suggestion hurt.

After processing the news over the past week or so, he realized he wanted to get to know her. This wasn’t the first time a child of his had been dropped on him far too late. He had failed Damian in so many ways because of it. 

But Y/N was a young woman, fully developed and independent now. And Bruce couldn’t help but wonder that him being absent from her childhood had only benefitted her.

“If that’s what you want,” he finally told her.

Y/N didn’t know him well enough to hear the underlying pain in his words.

So she simply nodded and walked past him, having nothing more to say.

——————

Bruce adjusted his tie. He wanted nothing more than to rip it off his neck.

But he was on his best behavior tonight.

This year, the Gotham Gazette was given the honor of hosting the Pulitzer Prizes. And since Bruce and Wayne Enterprises donated quite a large sum of money to the Gotham Gazette, they felt inclined to invite him.

Bruce had every intention of skipping, until he found out that Lois Lane was receiving an award and Clark would also be attending.

He figured the least he could do was congratulate her and say hi to both of them.

That’s why he was trying to find them as soon as possible so he could and get the hell out of there.

Bruce finally spotted Clark talking to a woman whose back was to him. All he saw of her was the black dress and y/h/c hair. 

He made his way over.

Clark noticed him when he was a few feet away.

“I see you’ve finally left your cave,” he teased with a lift of his brow. “I honestly didn’t expect you to show.”

But when the woman Clark was speaking to turned to look at him, Bruce swore he felt his heart stop.  

Y/N’s eyes widened slightly, clearly just as surprised at seeing Bruce.

None of this went missed by Clark. “Oh, do you two know each other?”

Bruce didn’t know how to respond. What would Y/N want? 

So he hesitated.

“I shot him for a cover once,” Y/N answered quickly.

She was a shockingly smooth liar.

Maybe she got that from Bruce, too.

But she didn’t realize that Clark could hear her heart rate quicken, catching the fib.

“And how exactly do you two know each other?” Bruce asked, recovering quickly.

“Y/N works with Lois a lot,” Clark answered. “She basically refuses to work with any other photographer.”

Y/N managed to force a smile.

“I should actually go find her and say my congrats,” she answered. 

“And I need to hunt down a drink,” she mumbled. 

Both men caught it.

Clark was rather taken aback by how she fled.

The Y/N he knew was always charming and kind, usually life of the party. He’d never seen her dodge a conversation in such a way before.

As soon as she was out of hearing range, Clark gave a intimidating glare to Bruce.

“Want to tell me what that was about?” He asked Bruce.

But Bruce only clenched his jaw.

“Past fling?” Clark asked with a somewhat disappointed tilt of his head.

“No. Nothing like that,” Bruce quickly corrected.

Not only did the idea make him feel sick. But if rumors started of the two of them being romantically linked, Bruce knew it would only make Y/N hate him more than she clearly already did. 

Thankfully, Clark took his denial seriously.

“She’s not my biggest fan,” Bruce added darkly.

“Y/N is a good friend,” Clark told him – almost in warning. “Lois and her have become rather close over the years.”

Then Clark smirked. “She does know how to hold a grudge though. And she’ll make your life hell...if you deserve it.” 

Bruce’s brain hurt as he realized how easily Y/N and his path’s could’ve crossed. She had been friends with Clark and Lois this whole time?

“I’m happy for her,” Clark added.

“Happy for her?”

Clark looked at Bruce as if it was obvious. “She’s being awarded tonight, too.”

How could Bruce not have realized? Why didn’t he think of looking at the list of people being awarded tonight? He’d been dreading attending so much that he didn’t even consider it.

“Bruce?” Clark asked with concern.

“Hmm?” He was not one to hum or mumble.

“You alright?”

Bruce didn’t have a lot of friends.

But Clark Kent was one of them. And him and Diana had noticed how Bruce was acting off for weeks now. Bruce was notorious for remaining stoic and giving nothing for people to try and guess what he was thinking or feeling. But they both knew it was something different. 

Someone over Bruce’s shoulder suddenly waved Clark over.

“If you’ll excuse me,” Clark told Bruce politely.

Bruce’s first instinct was to leave now that he knew Y/N was also in attendance.

But he knew he couldn’t act so cowardly.

Was he really that scared of his own daughter?

His eyes glanced around the room looking for her.

He spotted Y/N at one of the bars.

Either her conversation with Lois had been quick, or she simply used that as an excuse to get away from Bruce.

Bruce walked up beside Y/N at the bar.

He knew she felt his arrival by the way her body tensed.

“Had I known you would be here I would not have attended,” he told her while looking straight ahead.

Y/N ignored his apology. “How do you know Clark?”

“He’s a friend,” Bruce answered casually.

Then he allowed himself to take a sideways glance at her.

Her jaw was clenched.

He wondered what thoughts she was holding back.

Y/N really did remind him of her mother.

When they were together, Bruce was convinced she was the prettiest girl in the world. He wondered if Y/N had found someone in her life who told her the same.

“Congratulations on being honored tonight,” Bruce offered sincerely.

“Thank you,” she answered shortly.

A beat passed between them.

Bruce was about to give up and leave her be.

“Does Clark think I’m one of your one-night stands now?”

Y/N might not know Bruce well, but everyone was familiar with his romantic history. He wasn’t one to keep the same woman around for long. 

“No,” he quickly answered. “I made sure to prevent such a rumor from starting.”

Y/N finally slowly turned to him, her annoyance clear. “And you’re convinced that he really believed you?” She asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Yes, Clark has always been rather good at detecting a lie.” His tone was so confident that it left little room for argument.

But Bruce knew a losing battle when he saw one.

He dipped his head. “Enjoy the rest of your night. Congratulations again.”

But Bruce lingered, debating if he wanted to say what was on my mind.

“You look very beautiful. Just like your mother.”

There was nothing creepy or contrived about it.

Y/N blinked at the compliment, completely taken aback.

“Goodnight, Y/N.” Bruce dipped his head and finally surrendered, leaving the party.

Y/N felt a presence behind her shoulder as he watched him leave.

“Was Bruce Wayne just hitting on you?” Lois asked with amusement.

“No. Not at all,” her tone was dazed and confused.

“He’s a good guy,” Lois told her lightly.

“Doubt it.”

“I mean it,” Lois insisted. “The media has given him a bad image. But I think he likes it that way,” she shrugged. “It’s not easy for him to open up. He’s not quick to trust.”

Lois thought she was building up a possible suitor for Y/N, having not a clue that she was describing Y/N’s father to her.

But Y/N was too busy thinking about how much Bruce sounded like her.

—————

A few weeks had gone by since Bruce and Y/N had run into each other at the ceremony.

It got Bruce to thinking: would he and Y/N had run into each other at some point in life – even without her mother’s posthumously confession?

Y/N knew Lois and Clark, lived in Gotham, seemed to know the same people through her work that Bruce was forced to interact with to keep up his persona.

Would he have sensed a connection had that been the case?

The possibilities kept Bruce up at night…along with the guilt that had already been eating away at him since he first read the later. And he’d read it 100 times more since.

Of all the boys, Dick was the only one that knew of Y/N’s existence. And if he hadn’t been at the right place at the right time, Bruce never would’ve told him. He had just been in shock after reading the letter that he blurted out the realization while Dick was in the same room.

Since then, Bruce didn’t linger in a room alone with him, knowing Dick would finally let all of his questions loose. And Bruce wasn’t ready to answer them.

While Tim was the one to connect them, he never followed through with what the situation was. He already had too much to deal with on a daily basis. Tim simply thought he was doing a nice favor for a beautiful woman. 

But if Bruce had told him, Tim would immediately do every possible background check on Y/N. He would be suspicious of the timing and underlying motives. He would probably assume that Y/N’s end goal was to get money or fame – or both. Bruce knew eventually Tim would come to the conclusion that Y/N wanted neither of those things. But it would still get an unnecessary rise out of the boy.

Bruce didn’t even want to think about how Damian would handle it. He knew his son felt a certain level of pride from being the only blood-son of his. Knowing he had a sibling – and an older sister at that – would most likely enrage him. And that wouldn’t make anything better. 

Jason…Well, Jason would get a kick out of Bruce letting down yet another child. And it would just be worse that she was blood related. He’d be curious about Y/N. Hell, he’d probably be tickled by the no-bullshit attitude Y/N had towards Bruce and her harsh efforts to keep him out of her life completely.

Now, Bruce sat at a Justice League meeting.

They were only a few minutes into a council session when his communicator started going off.

The boys knew not to contact him unless it was an emergency. So, he quickly excused himself and stood to leave the room.

“What is it?” Bruce answered, his Batman voice in full form.

“There’s been an attack at city hall,” Dick reported back hurriedly.

Bruce frowned. The boys had handled much worse things on their own before. There had to be more to it than that.

“Scarecrow,” Dick confirmed. “He released a fear toxin. It’s bad Bruce. The mayor has been infected, along with half of their staff. I think it’s a new string. Our antidote doesn’t seem to doing anything. Even if it did, we don’t have nearly enough for the amount of victims.”

“The others?” Bruce asked quickly – meaning Damian, Jason, and Tim.

“They’re fine. Jason’s trying to get everyone out before they inhale too much. Tim and Damian went after Scarecrow. GPD is in a panic.”

Bruce turned to see Clark had raced to his side. Clearly he had been eavesdropping on the conversation. But the expression in his face prevented Bruce from getting into an argument about it.

“What?” Bruce asked him, knowing something was wrong.

“Lois and Y/N were at that council meeting,” Clark breathed out.

“We’ll be there soon,” Bruce told Dick before hanging up.

—

Bruce thought he knew fear from the few times his boys had been in trouble. But it was nothing compared to the fear he had knowing it was Y/N this time. She wasn’t a trained vigilante; she was just an innocent civilian. Bruce had not insured that she was trained and could take care of herself.

As soon as Clark dropped them on the ground, they were in the midst of the chaos.

“Lois!” Clark yelled.

People were too distracted to notice Superman and Batman had arrived.

Bruce looked over to see Lois rushing to Clark. He could tell it took all of Clark’s willpower not to embrace Lois from his relief.

“Are you OK?” Clark asked as he dipped his head and his eyes raced across his wife’s body.

“I-I’m fine. I got lucky. Somehow I was out of range of the gas explosion.”

“Y/N?” Bruce interrupted. “Did you see Y/N?”

“She was helping these kids get out and I was getting shoved out of the building. I tried to get to her but it was impossible with everyone’s panic. I think she’s still in there.”

Before Bruce could turn to Clark to come up with a plan, Clark flew into the building. A few people finally noticed the presence of superheroes and started murmuring.

“Nightwing, Red Hood – I’m at the front entrance of City Hall.”

Clark flew back to them not even 30 seconds later.

Y/N was unconscious in his arms.

“Oh my god,” Lois muttered at Y/N’s condition.

“She’s gone into shock. We need to get her to the medics,” Clark informed them. “She was exposed to the toxin more than the others.”

But Bruce was already shaking his head. “They won’t be able to help her.”

Clark gently handed Y/N to Bruce as he explained, “There are others in there.”

Just then Nightwing and Red Hood dropped in front of them.

Nightwing immediately recognized Y/N and his eyes shot up to Bruce with worry.

“Nightwing, I need you to take her back to the cave,” he tried to sound as controlled as possible.

Bruce was confused why Dick hesitated to take Y/N out of his arms.

“Do you have the batmobile? I brought my motorcycle,” Dick sounded apologetic when he explained.

Jason stepped forward before Bruce could answer. “I got her.”

As if she were the most fragile being ever, Jason carefully took Y/N’s unconscious body from Bruce’s grip. He could see in Bruce’s gaze that she was someone special. How and why, Jason would figure out later. 

Jason had seen Y/N trying to help as many people before she was completely poisoned from the toxin. She’d risked her life to help. 

Watching Jason cradle her into his body caught Clark off guard, always seeing the brute strength and almost animalistic energy from Red Hood whenever they so happened to fight beside each other.

“Meet us at the cave,” Bruce clarified. “Alfred will know what to do. We have to help out here more.”

Jason nodded before he hurried away with her and rushed to his hidden car.  

——————

Y/N’s eyes snapped open and she shot up, sitting in a cot.

“Hey, hey, hey,” a voice she didn’t recognize said beside her. “You gotta relax.”

She turned to see a mammoth of a man sitting beside her, wearing vigilante gear with at least two guns being displayed at his sides. But it was the red helmet completely hiding his face and true voice that made Y/N feel uncomfortable.

“What the fuck,” she groaned at the sight of him.

Just a few seconds later, two men rushed into the room.

Bruce walked in still in his Batman uniform, but without his cowl – to Jason’s shock.

Clark was beside him, making Jason confused as to why he was still here. Surely he would want to be with Lois. 

Y/N took in the sight before her.

“You were poisoned with a new strand of Scarecrow’s toxin,” Superman explained.

Y/N had seen plenty of pictures and shaky video of him. But now that the man stood before her, she immediately recognized him.

“Clark?” She gasped.

He didn’t say anything. But his expression didn’t fight her realization, just silently waited for the truth to settle.

“Does Lois know?” Was her next question.

Clark smirked at that. “Of course.”

Y/N gave a slight nod.

But now her attention switched to Bruce. 

The Batman symbol was large across his chest, and his cape was still intact.

She looked around her surroundings and then up at the ceiling.

They were in a cave.

“You’re…you’re…” she couldn’t finish her sentence.

“Batman,” Bruce finally offered.

Y/N’s eyes were wide with panic.

How was this possible?

Now that the others had exposed their identity, Jason felt inclined to take off his helmet. Clearly, it was making her uncomfortable.

The hiss of his helmet being removed caused Y/N to finally look away from her father and to Jason, who still wore a domino mask. But it was far less frightening than the helmet.

“We’ll give you two a moment alone,” Clark spoke for both him and Jason.

Jason nodded and stood up from the seat beside Y/N, and walked out. 

Clark lingered in the doorway. “I’ll be right outside if you need me,” he told her.

He might’ve revealed his Superman identity to her, but she was still his friend.

Y/N managed to nod in thanks, but was clearly still shook by all this news.

Bruce very slowly made his way to the chair that Jason had just been sitting in.

“How are you feeling?”

She shook her head. “Body’s sore. Migraine is killing me. What happened?”

“You were more exposed to the toxin more than the other victims. Jason brought you here. We had to make a new anecdote, and quickly.”

Bruce wanted to add that she could’ve died. But he didn’t see the use in scaring her.

“Oh,” was all she managed to mumble.

An awkward silence settled between them.

“Very few people know the truth about me,” Bruce explained.

Y/N’s gaze flickered up from her lap to look at him.

“I don’t expect you to forgive me. But I figured I couldn’t ask you to allow me into your world if I didn’t allow you into mine.”

She was silent.

“Y/N…” Bruce cleared his throat. The time had come. “The reason I left your mother was because I was starting this life. I pushed her away to protect her. I knew I couldn’t be the man she deserved while also being Batman. Had I known the truth…”

His words died out. It was starting to become harder to control his emotions.

He leaned forward in his chair, just getting slightly closer to her.

“Had I known about you, I would’ve…” He cleared his throat to try and hold back his tears. “I never would’ve abandoned you or your mother.”

He leaned back then. “But I know those are just words. And to you, they probably sound like empty promises for the past.”

“She never knew?” Y/N whispered.

In the few moments she was allowed to process this information, her mind immediately wondered if her mom had known about Bruce’s double life all along. And that’s why she kept him away from her.

Bruce shook his head.

“Thank you…for trusting me enough to tell me your secret,” Y/N finally told him. “I promise I’ll never tell anyone,” she quickly added, feeling like she just needed to clarify that to him.

He gave her a small small, “I know.”

Y/N winced as she thought about how terrible she’d been to him all this time. Now that she knew the truth – the whole truth – she was looking at everything with a new perspective. Even what she knew about Bruce Wayne, the spoiled socialite... it was clearly all wrong. 

He used it as a cover. It was all a cover.

“I’m sorry for how I’ve treated you,” she whispered shakily.

But Bruce shook his head before she could even get the apology out.

“Do you think it’s too late for us?” She breathed. 

Could they ever find any fragment of a father-daughter relationship?

Y/N was an adult – she had been for years now. And she made it clear she didn’t need nor want a father.

“Believe it or not, this isn’t the first time this has happened to me,” Bruce sighed.

Her brow furrowed. “This meaning…?”

“My son, Damian. His mother kept him a secret from me. She didn’t reveal his existence until he was nine. And she only did it in an attempt to disrupt my life.”

“This seems to be a rather strange pattern in your life,” Y/N couldn’t help but point out.

Bruce glared at her, causing her to chuckle.

“My point is,” he continued, “I don’t think it’s ever too late.” And he cleared his throat quickly. “That is, if you want to try.”

“I think I do,” she answered with a shy smile.

It was the first time she’d done so in his presence.

“I don’t know anything about raising a daughter,” Bruce rubbed his face as he attempted to make the joke. But she could tell there was sincerity there, too.

“Well, I’ve already been raised,” Y/N laughed.

There.

That laugh.

It brought Bruce back to his teenage years. It sounded so much like her mother. Her face lit up just like her’s had.

“You remind me so much of your mother,” he gasped.

Her face dropped at his confession.

“Really?”

He nodded. “She said you were just like me. But there’s more of her in you than I think she ever realized.”

Bruce saw his much his words effected her.

Y/N’s eyes were shiny with tears, but she managed to hold them back.

“So what now?” She quickly asked, obviously trying to distract herself so she wouldn’t have a complete emotional breakdown.

“Well, Alfred should have dinner ready soon. Would you stay?”

She gave him a tear-filled smile. “I’d like that.”

“You can meet the rest of them,” Bruce told her casually as he stood.

“The rest of them?”

He nodded. “Well, you only have to meet Damian now. You already met Jason, Dick, and Tim in passing.”

“And here I thought you had no idea how to be a father…” Y/N muttered with amusement.

Bruce helped her get out of bed, making sure she was alright to stand and walk on her own.

“Well, depending on which of them you ask, they might tell you that you’re right.”

--------------------

Thank you to everyone who read the first part. Let me know what you think <3

BONUS: This Game of Ours

[imagining-in-the-margins]

The Birds & The Bees (S.R. | Pt. 3)

Summary: Reader earns her nickname, and Spencer sinks to a new level of sin. A/N: Here, take your first dose of smut 💊 ✨ Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader Category: Slow Burn (NSFW, 18+) Content Warning: Drinking, alcohol, masturbation (male) Word Count: 5.3k

MASTERLIST | Series Masterlist

——————————————————

If I had to pick my favorite thing about working for Spencer Reid, it would probably be something that most people wouldn’t expect. Sure, it was nice to be able to work with a human encyclopedia, and he was definitely very nice to look at, but neither of those things contributed to my love for my job.

It was the sense of belonging. An overwhelming feeling of serenity that existed, flowing freely beneath the surface like a network of roots twined together. I never felt out of place when I was with Spencer — which couldn’t be said for basically any other time. Especially not now.

Halloween is one of my favorite holidays because it’s just absurd. You harass your neighbors while dressed in a costume and they reward you with something sweet (or, in some cases, change). As I’ve grown older, not much has changed aside from the creativity and length of the costumes.

... and the sweet treats being replaced by the bitter sting of alcohol.

“You do realize that guy was hitting on you in there, right?” my friend shouted from less than a foot to my right.

“He was just being nice.”

“Yeah... in a bar,” another girl chimed in, “On Halloween.”

I tried to remember the face of the man they were talking about, but my memory of his eyes blended into the flashing lights of the club. Even if I wasn’t drunk, I knew it would have been hard to remember him. Because the truth was that he wasn’t the person I wanted to see when I closed my eyes.  

“Leave her alone. She’s trying to stay pure for her professor,” my friend snickered.

Despite the treachery, I still caught her before she almost pushed us both straight off the curb in her drunken state. But it wasn’t her opinion I was worried about, because at that point, I was certain she would remember none of it by the time class rolled around come Monday. It was our other acquaintance that I responded to, with a very squeaky and unreliable, “I am not doing that!”

“Yeah, what she wants isn’t pure at all,” the mess on my shoulder droned. That was enough of a reason for me to drop her, although it really resulted in both of us barely staying on our feet on the somewhat crowded sidewalk.

“Stop! It’s not like that!”

“Sure it’s not.”

Then, something else caught her attention. Knowing her, I figured that it was either a man in a scandalous costume, or it was a two for one drink deal plastered in front of a bar. I assumed it was the latter, because as soon as she finished talking, she grabbed hold of our hands and yanked us against the brick wall of the next bar.

“So you wouldn’t mind if, theoretically, Professor Reid saw you in your costume?” she asked.

I like to think that I am a relatively smart girl. After all, I had made my way to graduate school, and Spencer seemed to think that I wasn’t a complete hopeless idiot. But in that moment, I couldn’t understand why on earth she would ever think to ask me that.

Running my hands over the fuzzy pink bodysuit I was wearing, I tried to picture his reaction. As soon as I tried to look down, however, the two floppy bunny ears affixed to the hood dropped over my eyes.

“I-I mean, I guess not…?” I mumbled, my face growing hot from something other than the alcohol, “I’m wearing it in public, so...”

But then she said it — the most terrifying two words I’d ever heard in my life.

“Okay ­– good.”

My eyes shot up immediately, trying to follow her eyes through the crowd of drunk, costumed people. By the time that I spotted him, somewhat thankfully dressed in normal clothes, I was powerless to stop it.

“Dr. Reid!” My friend’s voice rang out into the night, “Dr. Reid, come over here!”

The moment our eyes met, I knew I was fucked. Totally, completely, and utterly fucked. A clever little grin filled his cheeks as he quickly spotted me trying to hide under my hood.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” I shrieked, but he was already on his way over.

“You said you didn’t mind!”

In a panicked whisper, I bit back, “I didn’t say call him over here!”

When he grew closer, though, I corrected myself. Because it was not just Spencer who was walking over. There was someone else with him. Another man, just as tall and just as beautiful as Spencer, but with a dark complexion and an even more wicked smile.

As for my company, they had already scattered into the bar behind me, leaving me with a wordless, dumbstruck look on my face that was very poorly hidden behind bunny ears.

“H-hey Prof— Dr. Reid,” I managed to get out.  

“Hey,” he answered in a tone I’d never heard before. A slightly guarded, very entertained but mostly awkward stretch of the vowel.

The man beside him, however, was quick to question.

“Who’s this?”

As I said before, I like to consider myself a relatively bright person. But the alcohol that night had been both free and strong. So, when I was asked by a handsome man who I was on the Devil’s night, I answered honestly.

“I’m a bunny!” I cried, bringing my hands together over my chest and turning to present the small pink pompom affixed to my lower back.

“I can see that,” the stranger replied through a genuine chuckle. But while the action was amusing to at least two of us in the conversation, Spencer looked mortified. It wasn’t necessarily negative, though.

I couldn’t be sure, of course, considering that I had already consumed more liquor that night than I had in the past month, but something told me that Spencer was less humiliated by me, and more worried about how blatant his response to my answer was. Because when he spoke, he did so through a smile.

“She’s uh... my teaching assistant.”

“Teaching assistant, huh?” his friend repeated, clearly amused.

There was almost a challenge to the title. Something about the way he said it setting my heart into overdrive. Unable to control my own treacherous tongue, I continued to dig myself a wonderfully sized hole to jump in to.

“I’m also very good at hopping,” I said.  

Once again, the better company of the two laughed. Spencer, however, covered his smile with a hand that brought attention to just how red his face had grown over the course of a few seconds. I was so distracted by it, lost in the way I could still see upturned lips just from his eye shape alone, that I failed to acknowledge the other man for a suspicious length of time.

“Well hey, don’t let me get in the way of you two catching up. Reid, I’ll go tell the hostess we’re here, so the others know where to go.”

With a firm pat on the shoulder, the man almost turned to walk away. But before he could, I drew him back again.

“Ooh, is there a party?”

Spencer, finally able to speak again, rushed his reply.

“No, it’s nothing.”

It was obviously not nothing, though. Judging by the toothy grin that his friend flashed, it was a very big not-nothing.

“Did he not tell you?” he asked with an incredulous, mischievous tone, “It’s his birthday.”

And it was, by far, the most insulting, scandalous news I’d heard that night. Enough to elicit a sharp gasp and hand reaching out to grab his wrist in a way I knew I shouldn’t have.

“You didn’t tell me it’s your birthday!”

My mind was racing, kicking myself for having not figured it out sooner. I was trying to recall the monthly staff newsletter, but then quickly remembered that I usually relied on Spencer to summarize them for me.

“It’s not my birthday,” he explained with a sigh, “It was a few days ago.”

His friend seemed pleased by my response, although he clearly saw it dwindling. My heels had already dropped back down with my hands that fell away, signaling a very different emotion than the excitement from seconds prior.

“We’re meeting up with some people for drinks and dinner. You want to come?” he asked, trying to convince me before it was too late.

But the moment had passed, replaced by loud, insecure ranting that insisted that Spencer wouldn’t have avoided telling me his birthday unless he didn’t want me to know. That meant he either didn’t enjoy making a fuss out of his birthday, or he didn’t want me to, specifically.

“Uhh...”

“Don’t answer that,” Spencer cut in, swiftly raising a hand to dismiss the other man whose name I finally learned. “Thanks Derek, I’ll be there in a minute.”

“Suit yourself,” he mumbled back. But Derek, in all of his disappointment, didn’t fail to draw out one more flustered laugh from the two of us who remained as he gave a tiny half-wave and sang, “Goodbye, Bunny.”

Spencer’s neck craned back, never once leaving his friend until he had safely entered the restaurant. Once he was sure that he was safe from ridicule, or at least observation, his entire demeanor changed.

“I’m sorry about that,” he offered, but I couldn’t accept. If anyone had been a bother here, it was me (and my friends).

“No, I’m sorry I bothered you!” I rushed.

The silence stretched between us, an unsettling reminder that we rarely interacted outside of work. That he’d never known me to party, and I’d never thought of him doing something as routine and normal as celebrating a birthday. It shouldn’t have been strange, but it was.

Perhaps that feeling was what drove me to continue, proudly stating, “I promise that I will have all your work ready first thing in the morning.”

It wasn’t until Spencer’s eyebrows furrowed and his mouth opened in a strange, lopsided grin that I’d realized I made a mistake.

“Um...” he spoke through laughter, “Tomorrow is Saturday.”

“I’m very motivated?”

Thankfully, he saw the humiliation and was happy to offer me a graceful escape from my humiliation. “How about I give you until Tuesday, instead?”

“Yeah, that’s probably for the best, huh?”

I gladly took it, staring down at my heels as I tried to find anything else to focus on. Anything that wasn’t his eyes that seemed even more powerful after dark. But true to the magnetism I always experienced in his vicinity, I was drawn back into golden irises full of an emotion that made my heart beat twice as hard.

“Where did your friends go?” he asked. I didn’t trust myself to answer, so I just threw my thumb over my shoulder and towards the bar behind me. I didn’t turn away from him then, too scared to acknowledge that I would be leaving him soon. That we would go our separate ways again and I would have to wait until Tuesday to drown in the honey of his eyes again.  

Sure enough, Spencer gave a solemn nod and cleared his throat before mumbling, “Right. You should probably go find them, so they don’t get worried.”

But I didn’t want to leave. I wanted to stay with him, the rest of the world be damned. I wanted to feel his eyes on me longer, especially when they started to wander my figure that I’d secretly hoped he would see.

I could pretend to hate my friend for calling him over all I wanted, but when I slipped into the costume hours earlier, I’d wondered what he would do if he saw me like this. And now that the answer was in front of me, torn between the exposed skin of my thighs and chest, I wanted to experience it for as long as possible.

With my fingers on the zipper to try and calm my heart, the inebriation manifested in soft giggles as I replied, “I think I’m pretty safe with you, Professor.”  

Spencer didn’t need to vocalize his disagreement. I saw his contention in the form of wayward eyes falling to my hands that fiddled with the tiny piece of plastic keeping me covered. When they trailed back up the zipper teeth to meet my eyes again, they were filled with a hunger that took my breath away.

Unfortunately for us, though, our smitten haze wasn’t shared by anyone else in the vicinity. Especially not the drunk pack of men who passed, completely unaware of the amount of space they took up on the sidewalk. I don’t even remember one of them running into me, but I definitely remembered what followed in extreme, vivid detail.

Spencer caught me, quickly and more gracefully than I thought him capable of moving. His arms were locked around me, not only preventing me from face planting on the concrete but causing me to press my face directly against him.

Before he had a chance to say or do much of anything else, I placed my hands on his chest and tore myself away from the warmth of his embrace. Because I was already drunk enough on the alcohol — I didn’t need to be any more inebriated from him.

“S-See? You caught me!” I squeaked.

I didn’t miss the fact his hands stayed on my waist even with the added distance, his fingers subtly digging into and stroking the plush fabric. I didn’t try to stop them, either.

“Are you going to be okay? Should I take you home?”

I knew it wasn’t how he’d meant it, but my inner voice still pleaded, Yes, God, please, yes! My outer voice, however, clung to reason and respectability.

“No! Don’t miss your birthday dinner!” I insisted, but he didn’t look convinced. “I’m fine, seriously. I just suck at walking in heels.”

Any part of me that would have normally been offended by his insistence that I couldn’t handle myself while drinking was quelled by my desire to keep his hands on me as long as possible. Although there was enough space for my arms between our chests, I swore I felt his fluttering heartbeat against my fingers. I thought of hummingbirds.

Resigned to my stubbornness, Spencer took a moment longer to stroke patterns through the pink fabric wrapped around my waist before he sighed, “If you say so.”

“I do!” I giggled, leaning closer like I might convince him not to leave at all, “So you better listen up, mister Professor man.”

The look he gave me was sweet, honeyed bliss. But even that seemed minuscule in comparison to the way his hands slid over my sides, making their way over my shoulders and gently brushing the errant bunny ears back out of my face. He left them there, too, with a barely-there caress of my face.

“You look cute,” he said, like it wouldn’t break my heart.  

Shier than he’d ever seen me before, I somehow managed to still look him in the eye as I answered, “So do you.”

It was a good thing I’d been paying attention, too. If I hadn’t been staring into his eyes, I would have missed the flash of chaotic playfulness that appeared just as he glanced down at the space between our chests.

I wouldn’t have been prepared at all when he dropped one of his hands from my face to the zipper of my costume. Not to say that anything could have prepared me for the way it felt to have his knuckle brush against the skin just below the lace bralette that had been meant to protect my modesty.

Before I could even comprehend the delicious friction of our skin, it was gone. Spencer pulled the zipper up to my chin, releasing the plastic in favor of grabbing hold of my chin once more.

“Be careful with that zipper,” he instructed, “I don’t need you getting hypothermia this early in the semester.”

Unsure of how else to respond, my body responded on instinct as it stammered, “I-I promise.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked again, and my autopilot continued.

“Double promise. Promise squared.”

“Okay. You have my number so... call me if you need anything.”

I absently nodded, but Spencer accurately concluded that I hadn’t actually processed what he’d said. When he let go of me, he took the time to smooth out the bunched up fabric over my shoulders. I tried to convince myself that he was just interested in the soft fluff, but it was hard to ignore the hunger that’d only grown stronger. The darkness that rivaled the moonless hallow’s eve.

“I don’t mind giving you a ride home if it means you get back safe,” he said with a deathly seriousness strongly contrasted by the flippancy that followed. “Otherwise I’ll have more work for Tuesday.”

I was grateful for the shift, because it made the loss of his hands hurt less. My chest filled with laughter that quickly burst from me with frantic, messy words.

“Of course! The work. For Tuesday. Okay! Thank you!”

“For what?” he also said through laughter.

“I— don’t know.”

Spencer turned away from me, looking behind him at the obligations that would tear us apart. I wondered if he, too, was busy contemplating how well it suited just how different we were. How two establishments side by side could house such different things. How we were frequenting opposite ends of the spectrum.

Whatever he was thinking about, however, it didn’t break his spirits too badly. Because before he sent me on my merry way, he flashed me the goofiest little bouncing peace sign before he sang, “Hop along, little bunny.”

So I did, turning back to my life and letting him return to his. But I couldn’t shake the feeling of his eyes following me until the darkness of the bar swallowed the space between us.

Still, I didn’t need him to be there to remember how it felt for his hands to roam my body like familiar territory. I saw that look in his eyes every time that I closed my own and remembered how it made my legs shake like weak stems bending to the wind.

I decided then that it wasn’t the worst thing in the world that he’d seen me in my costume. In fact, I think he quite liked it.

 ——————————————————

 There are few things more relentless than Derek Morgan. Death and taxes, perhaps. When it came to mocking me, there wasn’t a single missed opportunity. Even at the darkest hour, I trusted him to be consistent and predictable.

That was precisely why it made no sense that I had made it through an entire dinner and drinks outing with the team without him mentioning what had happened. Not even once. I almost let myself be relieved. Perhaps time spent with a child that can talk back did him some good, I thought. But when the time finally came for us to take our leave, I realized my mistake. He wasn’t holding back out of the kindness of his heart.

No, Derek wanted to wait until there was no escape route. He wanted to have me trapped in a car hurtling down a highway before he spoke the words that he’d been waiting to say all night.

“So... Bunny.”

“Her name is (y/n),” I quickly corrected. Unfortunately, Derek wasn’t in a merciful mood. Although there was a notable smirk on his face, his next words were uttered with a hefty dose of skepticism. A warning that it was a subject that ought to be approached with a critical sincerity.

“Her name is Trouble. That’s what her name is,” he said, shaking his head.  

“She’s just my teaching assistant,” I said like I might actually convince myself, though we both knew that I wasn’t going to convince him. “It’s fine.”

“Is that what they’re calling it nowadays?”

But that time, it was me who issued the warning.

“Stop,” I ordered, meeting his eyes to find him hiding his genuine concern under jokes that weren’t really jokes at all. “I respect her. She’s very bright and she earned her position.”

“I never said she didn’t. I know she’s probably smart, but I also saw the way you looked at her.”

The words felt like a blow to the stomach — yet another reminder that my affections for her were so thinly veiled they might as well be scrawled across my skin. He didn’t need to be a profiler to notice that I was fond of the girl, but it certainly made it worse.

Because he knew that I was lying when I muttered, “You don’t need to worry about it.”

He knew that I was lying, but he still asked, “Why’s that?”

“She’s...” I started, pausing while the word tried to form on my tongue. The word that had haunted me ever since those damned girls mentioned it. That short, simple little noun that had taken a cursory affection and turned it into full blown lust.

“She’s a virgin.”

Derek’s brows jumped up his face, his jaw dropping the same way mine had when I first heard the news. Then, just as I had, he put the pieces together and realized that it should have been a foregone conclusion.

“Trouble with a capital everything,” he half laughed.

But this wasn’t a joking matter, and I really wished that I could make him believe that. That definitely wouldn’t happen, though. Not when he looked up to see me hiding behind my hands, sinking into my seat like it would get me out of the conversation.

“Don’t be ridiculous. She’s obviously waiting.”

It was the wrong thing to say. I should have seen his response coming from a mile away. But I didn’t, and so I was forced to listen to his childish giggles that were followed with an even more lighthearted crooning.

“Yeah, waiting for the right professor to come teach her the lesson on the birds and the bees.”

“Cut it out.”

Without even looking, he astutely observed, “Kid, you’re blushing.”  

“Yeah, because you’re talking about me fuc–”

The word never made it out, getting caught between my teeth as I bit down on my tongue damn near hard enough to make it bleed. I wished it would. I wanted the iron to drown me and rid me of the sinful things it sought to do, instead. Opting for a more… distinguished explanation, I eventually stammered the rest of the thought.

“You’re talking about me... deflowering my significantly younger employee!”

“You can say fuck, Reid,” he deadpanned, “I think you’re old enough now.”

“I don’t want to. It sounds too... crude.”

I didn’t expect him to understand. How could he? He’d only seen her when she was at her most provocative… by far. Part of me envied him, to be able to sequester her innocence and view her as just another girl.

But she wasn’t like anyone else. She was an untouched bloom, a magnolia of unearthly shades. A beautiful blossom that had broken through the concrete walls I’d maintained for so many years. A tantalizing taste of the life outside that I refused to let in.

A fucking tease.

“Too crude for little miss innocent bunny?” Derek cooed, and it was so uncomfortably close to my thoughts that I couldn’t help the way I snapped back.

“Are you done?”

As we pulled into my parking lot, Derek just waved off my hostility, recognizing it as nothing but misfired shame and anguish at the thing I wanted being out of my reach.

“Yeah, I’m done. I hope you had fun, even with the teasing.”

I chose not to dignify the second half of the statement, climbing out of the car like I couldn’t step away from the conversation fast enough. But of course, I knew that only made my guilt more apparent. My culpability was clear and conclusive. There was no argument to be made.

“You know I’m right!” he shouted just before the door shut. A final reminder, one last cautionary call for the beast inside of me to keep itself hidden lest I allow myself to sink my teeth into something pure.

“Goodnight!”

Few things changed when I reached the confines of my apartment walls. Fantasies had only devolved into a vividness that was borderline frightening. How easily I could get lost in visions of her, only promising my return in exchange for my imagination agreeing to become a reality that I would get a chance to experience.

But that wasn’t fair to her. She was just a girl doing her job with an astounding amount of patience and understanding for her hopeless romantic of a boss. For a moment, the guilt became so overwhelming that I let it win. I managed to swallow my newly acquired memories well enough to navigate my nightly routine without wishing she was there every step of the way.

Wishing that she would call me. That she would grant me the excuse to return to her, to touch her as freely as I had earlier. I imagined a world where, upon arriving to her destination, she invited me in.

As I collapsed on my bed, I wondered if she would have preferred the privacy of my home. A place far enough away from other students and academics to finally see me as something more than a superior. Something attainable in a way she never seemed to be.

Just as I closed my eyes to give in to the dreams, my phone buzzed. The sound set off every nerve in my body, all of them very poorly coordinating to allow me to grab the device and turn it on to reveal her name.

“Hey Professor! I just wanted to let you know that I got home…”

I’d never opened a notification so quickly, but I should have waited. I should have paused and taken the time to notice that what I was opening wasn’t just a collection of letters and symbols.

It was a set of pictures.

Pictures of her.

“Safe and sound and zippered up. No hypothermia for this bunny tonight,” she tagged onto the end, “Sweet dreams!”

How could I ever dream of anything but her? How was I meant to turn off my phone now, knowing that she was there; her drunken, lustful stare on display? I only tore my eyes away from her face long enough to notice her surroundings. I took extensive, painstaking notes on the color of the sheets on her bed and the way the zipper I’d tugged at to control myself from taking her had fallen away again.

I could feel the softness of her skin against my knuckle again. I heard the way her breath nearly broke at the force with which she sucked in air at the feeling of me touching her. How hard she pressed herself against me, how her back arched when I held her and how she never even tried to stop my hands from finding new places to rest.

They worked diligently now, too, trying to keep her awake and with me for as long as I could, but also wanting to free myself of obligations so that she wouldn’t notice how long I’d stared at the pictures she’d sent.

“Goodnight, little bunny,” I sent before adding, “I’ll be counting rabbits instead of sheep tonight.”

As if to reward my efforts, another picture flooded my screen. Her face was scrunched up in an adorable innocence, half covered with her hand but still effortlessly beautiful.

I stopped myself from responding again. I forced myself to stop, to prevent treacherous hands from calling her and begging her to let me come to her. It wasn’t fair — it was manipulative, downright evil, even — to take advantage of her inebriated state to hoard any insight she might provide.

But she’d already sent these… So, would it be so wrong to indulge in her? By touching my own body to the thought of her, would I taint her? Did I care even if it did? Maybe it was for the best to plant the seed of impurity now, to strip her of her power over me.

But deep down, I knew that I would still want her. I would still wish that the hand that sneaked beneath the sheets belonged to her. I could almost feel it as my hand traversed familiar territory. It would be new for her, and it would be new for me to feel the delicate, unmarred skin of her palm slowly sliding down my stomach. Her fingers bashfully brushing through soft curls at the base of me, still too nervous to hold me the way I needed her to.

Her face would be buried in my shoulder, with dew from her breath wetting my neck and raising the hairs on my arms. I would take her hand in mine and guide her to wrap her trembling hand around my cock.

Just like I was doing to myself now, with my other hand still holding the phone displaying the image of innocence. My hand wasn’t as soft or inexperienced as hers would be, but as long as my eyes stayed on her half-lidded gaze staring back at me, I could pretend.

I could hear her panting my name— my real name, Spencer— in my ear, praising the feel of silky skin beneath her fingertips. She would whisper about how she wanted to feel it elsewhere, too. She would beg for me to replace a hand for her most precious place.

That damned angelic girl showing her hand on the zipper would beg me to steal away her innocence. She would unveil herself slowly, knowing that I needed the time to memorize every inch of her skin as it was seen by another for the first time. Seen by me, and only me. The vision would be for my consumption and indulgence.

I wanted it. I wanted her.

My stomach tensed as I pictured the girl staring back at me straddling my hips. I stroked myself harder, faster, letting my thumb trace down her body on my screen.

If I stole it from her, would it be mine?

Would she be trapped as I was, only able to feel anything when I was with her? Would she dream of me? Would she cherish each and every memory of my touch and play it back in her mind? When she felt the urge to break and burn, would she picture my hands lighting the match?

If I ruined her, would she be mine?

I pictured the girl on the screen with tears in her eyes, her mouth stuck open in a silent scream and her hands clutching desperately to mine. I imagined how tightly her body would grip me as I fucked her. How hard it would fight the intrusion of my sinful touch. How I would hold her down despite the resistance until she gave in to me. Until I broke her, thoroughly and irreparably.

She would be mine.

That was the thought that took me over the edge, all energy that was not delegated to my hand feverishly stroking my cock remained with my other hand to hold her picture in front of me. It never even wavered, never once shaking and risking losing any clarity. Even my eyes refused to close all the way.

She would be mine.

The warm, sticky mess of my desire coated my hand and stomach, but all I could think was how it would feel to mark her as mine. To feel the excess drip back down my cock as she collapsed against my body. To know that she would never be the same, never be wholly herself again. That she’d let me inside of her soul and that when I left, I hadn’t left empty handed.

She was already mine.

 ——————————————————

| Part Four |

[inadaydream99]

When They See You With Another Guy ~ with The Boyz

Requested by anon

A/N- Hi, thanks for requesting! This has taken ages for me to write but I hope you enjoy! ☺️

Sangyeon

Sangyeon had been minding his own business, walking along the street, when his eyes landed on you stood talking with a guy he’d never seen before

It wasn’t that he was jealous, but he doesn’t like the fact that the wide smile on your face is because of someone other than him

He’s confused… should he go over to you or just keep walking and talk to you about it later???

But he decides it’s best to wait until he has a chance to talk to you properly. Though that doesn’t mean he’s not replaying the scene over in his head all day

You burst into laughter upon hearing Sangyeon’s question. It really does make you feel amused that he’d been so obviously concerned about it all day

“That was my friends boyfriend. We’d just so happened to bump into each other in the street and had a little catch up, that’s all.” You clear things up instantly

Sangyeon’s instantly chuckles, his hand awkwardly scratching his neck until you reach out and hold it, intwining your fingers together

Jacob

Being an incredibly rational person, it’s probably expected that seeing you with another guy wouldn’t bother Jacob much

Except, it really really does…

There’s this underlying protectiveness within him that he only has for his members and his s/o

So when he sees that you are close to another guy, its almost shocking how mad it makes him

Of course, Jacob is mature enough to manage his emotions when in public situations. But the instant you’re alone, it’s a completely different story

“Who was that guy you were talking to earlier?” Jacob controls the conversation, staring you directly in the eyes as a seriousness encompasses you both

“He’s just a friend from work, more of an acquaintance really.” You reassure, placing a gentle hand onto his arm in an attempt to calm his tense posture

“How come you didn’t introduce me then. You always introduce me…” Jacob remains firm, a jealous tinge emerging through his tone

You can tell it’s taking a lot for him to hold his emotions in this moment. Although, his anger isn’t aimed towards you, but your handsome colleague

“Truthfully.” You emit a deep breath. “He’s a huge fan of yours and when I offered to introduce you he said he was too nervous.”

Upon hearing this confession, a huge grin explodes onto Jacob’s face

He’s relieved, the soft laugh you love so much making an appearance as he pulls you into his arms and presses a loving kiss atop your head

Younghoon

Younghoon had been acting off all night, everyone had noticed it, but no one was really sure why he looked so pissed

It wasn’t until you’d managed to get him alone that you were able to fully understand, and honestly, you weren’t too impressed by his reason

“So I’m not allowed to talk to any guys.” You defensively sass, arms folded across your chest to close yourself off from your childish boyfriend

“No, I’m not saying that. I just don’t like it when guys get to friendly with you.” Younghoon grumbles moodily

“So you don’t trust me, that’s what you’re saying?” You sarcastically laugh, it’s really hard to believe he’s acting this way over such an insignificant thing

The ‘thing’ in question isn’t insignificant to Younghoon, however. Especially when you seemed so much happier hanging out with your guy friend than him

“Of course I trust you, it’s just him I don’t trust!” Younghoon completely looses his cool, throwing his arms up in frustration

Hearing his blatant jealousy leaves you at a loss for words, so you simply shake your head in disappointment, walking away from Younghoon before one of you says something you’ll regret

Hyunjae

He couldn’t believe his eyes when he saw you laughing at the guys words… was he really that funny?

Jaehyun isn’t sure, after all, he’s not a part of the conversation

His bottom lip instantly juts out into a pout as he continues to watch your interaction. I mean, what did he do for you to treat him like this?

“What’s the sulky face for?” You chuckle as soon as you approach him, unaware of how upset you’ve made him

“Your friend seems like a funny guy.” He avoids your question, taking a sip of his drink to take away the sour taste left in his mouth

You raise your brows at your boyfriends words. It’s not your fault he’s jealous, but either way, you aren’t about to stir up an argument

“I mean, I’ve met funnier…” you trail off, failing to hide the teasing smirk that twinges at the corner of your lips

“Like who?” Hyunjae’s eyes go wide at your statement, he’d clearly missed what you were insinuating

“You’re so cute.” Is all you respond with, chuckling in amusement at how he’s being so endearingly obvious with his emotions

And it seems as though it does the trick, Hyunjae finally smiling once again as you enjoy each others company

Juyeon

Juyeon doesn’t want to make something out of nothing, but when you spend the morning rushing around getting ready instead of paying attention to him, it hurts him a little

Instead of verbalising his emotions, he decides to catch your attention in another way

Purposefully strolling out of your room and into the living space of your apartment in only his pants, Juyeon stretches his arms out and rolls his head back, sighing loudly to catch your attention

“Ju, have you seen my phone?” You whiz past him without a second glance

“It’s right here, on the table.” He calls out, lounging back onto the sofa as casually as he can (except it’s in no way casual)

“Thank y-” your words cut off as soon as you take him in, mouth agape as your mind goes empty of all thoughts, well except one…

“Have a nice time today and I’ll see you for dinner.” Juyeon beams at you.

However desperately he wants to make you decide to stay with him instead of meeting your guy friend, he would never admit it out loud

“Can I have a kiss goodbye?” You timidly ask, almost as if you haven’t asked him that before

Juyeon snickers as he stands up and pulls you into him, one hand falling delicately onto your waist and the other caressing your cheek

You complain when he only leaves a simple peck on your lips, eager for more

Juyeon’s just happy to know you are no longer in a rush to leave, and that’s enough to make him feel content for the rest of the day until you come back home to him

Kevin

Kevin wouldn’t really mind seeing you hanging out with guy friends, just as long as you are open with him about it

He’s not the type to get jealous often, and even then it’s only to tease you

“You know, we haven’t spend much time together lately.” He pouts after hearing that you’re heading out to see a male friend of yours

It’s the first day in a long time that Kevin has some time off and he was really hoping you would be around to share it with him

“Don’t make me feel worse about it, I’ve had this arranged for ages…” you sigh, accepting his hand as you take a moment to come up with a compromise

“You know you could just make it clear that you’re gonna hang out with your boyfriend.” Kevin softly suggests, his tone insinuating the slight bitterness he’s been trying to cover up

“Kevin…” you whine.

His laughter only makes you roll your eyes as you realise he’s been messing with you. So you playfully shove him away when he attempts to pull you into a hug

Chanhee

Is Chanhee bothered to see you spending so much time with another guy at the company party? On the outside it’s a firm no, but inside he’s not pleased

It’s not your fault that you’d made friends with the staff, and that the closest friend was a male staff

Honestly, every part of Chanhee wants to sassily stroll over to you and your friend and make it very clear that you have a boyfriend

But he’s hesitant, it’s really taken a blow to his confidence…

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” You perch on the chair beside your solemn looking boyfriend. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m… just feeling a little under the weather.” Chanhee fibs. He doesn’t like lying to you, but deep down he knows he’d feel much worst making you feel bad for spending time with friends

“Do you want to go home?” You offer, a soft smile on your face to reciprocate your boyfriends when he nods, accepting your hand and intertwining your fingers together as you make your way out of the party

Changmin

You feel an arm wrap around your waist, tugging you closer into the person beside you, a light gasp escaping your lips from the unexpected presence of your boyfriend

Changmin’s eyes are fiercely trained on the guy stood opposite you, baring his gritted teeth as he boldly interrupts your conversation

“…this is my boyfriend Changmin…” you hesitate, introducing him in a feeble attempt to break the tense silence

“And who are you?” Changmin spits, impatience radiating off of him as the stranger takes a second to comprehend the simple question

“Minnie-” Changmin’s head snaps to you, your sentence falling short just from his enraged stare

“I asked him. Who. Are. You.” His tone is sharp, making it evermore clear that he needs an answer instantly.

“I’m (Y/N)’s cousin.”

“Oh.” Changmin’s shoulders slump… he feels stupid

And that’s when you take the opportunity to apologise to your cousin on Changmin’s behalf, before excusing you both

“I’m so sorry-” Changmin’s doe eyes plead at you. “I just get too ahead of myself sometimes.”

“It’s ok, you didn’t mean any harm.” You comfort, accepting the fact that Changmin is just very territorial over you

And later on, Changmin makes the effort to make amends with your cousin himself

Haknyeon

One thing that Haknyeon absolutely adores is the way you look at him as though he’s the only person you see, your eyes glimmering with complete admiration at anything and everything he does

So when he thinks that you are giving another guy a very similar look, it makes him feel a way he’s never felt before

“Yeah, I know what I saw. Don’t be stupid.” Haknyeon continues to walk away from you, his tone cold as he refuses to even spare you a glance

“But I really don’t know what I’ve done?” You chase after him, finally catching up when he has to stop to unlock the front door

“Oh come on! You were practically undressing him with your eyes!” He finally turns to you, waiting for you to come back at him with a defensive comment

Except you don’t, you just gawk at him in disbelief

“If you really believe that I’d even flirt with the idea of having eyes for anyone other than you, then why are we together?” You break the silence, your voice barely audible but leaving an echo in Haknyeon’s mind as he speechlessly watches you walk away

Sunwoo

He acts on his emotions first, rationality coming in second

So when he sees you with a guy he’d never encountered before, he feels hurt and betrayed

“I don’t get it Sunwoo, why are you so mad at me?” You frustratedly brush your hand through your hair, repeating the question for the thousandth time that evening

Sunwoo simply continues to ignore you, choosing to focus all his attention onto the tv as he grabs the remote and it flicks onto some random channel

His frown deepens when you move to block his view of the tv, pleading at him as best as you can

“Instead of annoying me why don’t you go back to that guy you were falling all over earlier.” Sunwoo finally speaks, his harsh tone and bitter words making your mouth go dry, chest tight as you feel your heart sink to your stomach. Is this really what he thinks?

“Sorry what?” You question back, finding it hard to believe you’ve heard him correctly

Seeing the pure horror on your face from his accusation makes Sunwoo feel instant regret

“That was my best friends brother, you know the one I’ve known since I was a baby?” You defensively explain

You watch as Sunwoo’s eyes widen in realisation, his face morphing through multiple emotions before it finally fixes into one of shame

“I’m so sorry (Y/N). How could I have been so stupid.” He stands from the sofa, closing the distance that had been created between you during your disagreement

He watches cautiously as his hand reaches out to take yours, letting out a breath of relief when you don’t resist as he intertwines your fingers together

“It’s ok, it’s and easy misunderstanding.” You meekly smile at him. “Just ask me next time, instead of getting all jealous about it.”

“I promise.” You chuckle as Sunwoo rolls his eyes, before pulling you into his embrace

Eric

“(Y/N), there you are! I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” Eric playfully scolds you through a wide smile, his heart filling with pride when you giggle at him

He’d wanted to seem casual in his approach to you, fully intending on making it known to your colleague that you are happily taken

“Nice to see you again Eric.” Your colleague nods, holding his hand out for Eric to shake, which Eric begrudgingly accepts

You don’t notice the forced smiles between the two, staying civil for the sake of appearances even though they both share the same distaste for one another

“You too.” Eric mumbles, turning his attention onto you, the sole reason for his endurance of being accommodating towards such an unpleasant guy (in his opinion anyway)

“We really should get going now, it’s already past when we agreed we should leave.” Eric affectionately reminds you, leaning down to press a light kiss to your forehead in the process

“You could stay with me if you don’t want to leave yet. I’ll take care of you.” Your colleague speaks up the second you let out a light “oh” in realisation of the time

This proposition, however, makes Eric tense instantly, which doesn’t go unnoticed by you.

“Actually I’m ready to go, just need to say goodbye to my boss.” You delicately place your hand on Eric’s arm as a way of comfort, before slipping away to say your goodbyes

Eric simply sends a taunting smirk towards your colleague, his look speaking a thousand words, before sauntering away

[iliveiloveiwrite]

travel books and romance novels // Colin Bridgerton

Summary: Colin visits the library for research into his next trip; he didn’t expect to find you.

A/N: Colin’s desire to travel honestly reflects my own. For purposes of the fic, I have aged Colin up - it’s more to fit the plot line of Book Four which is his book anyway. I’m not sure how to feel about this fic, I'm happy with it but I’m not at the same time. I’m not being too harsh on myself however, this is my first time writing for Colin and I haven't got to grips with his character yet. I hope you all like!! <3

Pairing: Colin Bridgerton x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Colin is very cute, pining, mutual pining, strangers to friends to lovers, female reader, she/her pronouns, marriage proposal, happy ending.

Word count: 4k

Colin Bridgerton had spent over two decades of his life on this planet and had yet to find something or someone he loves more than travelling. The bug first bit him in his early twenties; desperate to experience a Grand Tour – a tradition of which that had strongly died out in the past century. He had read about it so often; dreamed of it nearly every day that eventually he put the idea forward to Anthony and his mother, Violet.

Though Violet was apprehensive at first, she warmed up to the idea once Colin gave her permission to choose some of the countries he would visit. Anthony held no qualms; having travelled to France and Spain before tragedy forced the family title upon his shoulders. Being able to travel would forge Colin into the man he should be; it would give him experience, and plenty of stories to tell his children and then eventually, their children.

Upon arriving back in London after his second trip away, Colin found himself glad to be home. He had sorely missed the sounds and smells that accompany London; the clipping of horses hooves and the constant chit-chat of men and women. It was home; it would always be home.

However, as he stepped off the boat or the train, Colin always wondered the same thing. How long would it be until he craved adventure once more?

------------

A month.

Colin lasted a month in the company of his beloved family before he was desperate to head off on his next adventure. However, he had no clear destination in mind. He had visited Europe, toured the Mediterranean and had hopes of crossing the Atlantic one day soon, but for now - to save his mother’s poor nerves - was content to remain closer to home.

He wasn’t one to visit libraries himself, usually sending a list of books with a servant whenever they visited the place, but this time he fancied the walk to stretch his legs. He had decided that research was the best way forward into finding his next destination, his next adventure. The library could offer such a thing.

It truly was a thing of wonder; so many books and serial publications at home in one place. The library at Bridgerton House was well stocked and Colin knew he could walk in freely and take whatever he would need, but there was something attractive about going out to find exactly what you need. There was also the added bonus of a lack of interrogation from his much-loved mother.

A huff leaves his body as Colin is pitched forward; barely catching himself before knocking into one of the shelves. Turning, Colin readies the words he wants to fling at the person who had yet they die in his throat when he finds you standing behind him with an apologetic look on your face, close to tears.

“Mr. Bridgerton!” You gasp, bowing your head politely and in apology, “I hadn’t meant to walk into you.”

Colin smiles, brushing down his suit jacket, “It’s no worry, Miss (Y/L/N). No harm done.”

“I hope not,” You reply, biting your lip.

His smile grows wider at the note of concern in your voice. “Truly, Miss (Y/L/N), no harm done.”

“Nevertheless, I apologise.”

“What are you reading?” He asks, nodding at the two books in your hand, changing the subject.

“They’re romances,” You admit shyly, “I read to my aunt twice a week. She rather enjoys them.”

“And you? Do you enjoy them?”

“There are some that I enjoy, yes, but I prefer books with adventures if I’m being honest.”

“Adventures?”

You nod, “I like them very much. What do you read?”

Colin frowns; confused at the question. You gesture to the shelves of books surrounding you, “What do you like to read, Mr. Bridgerton? We are in a library after all.”

“Non-fiction,” He replies, nodding his head to the stack dedicated to true life accounts of travellers. “I’m here doing research.”

“Research?”

“For where I want to travel to next,” Colin clarifies; walking towards the stack, all the while knowing you’re following.

“Have you an idea?”

He shakes his head; disappointed at the admission. For his last two trips abroad, he had known exactly where he wanted to go and what he wanted to do and see. Now, however, he was struggling for ideas.

You nod your head; seemingly understanding the predicament Colin has found himself in. Holding close the hardcover editions of the romances your aunt loved so much, you take a step back from the third eldest Bridgerton.

“I hope you find your location soon, Mr. Bridgerton,” You murmur in farewell, turning away from the tall brunette.

“I hope you enjoy your romances,” Colin replies, watching you walk away. Fleetingly, he wonders if he will see you again.

------------

The library remains just as silent as the last time Colin visited. The books he had borrowed heavy in his hands as he returns them to the attendant who nods in thanks. Distantly, he wonder whether he will run into you again. Since meeting you last, he hadn’t stopped thinking about you.

Colin barely knew you or your family; didn’t know much about your lineage or even whether you knew of his, yet he had not stopped thinking about you and the way you held your books so close to your chest, as if protective of them and what they held even if you didn’t own them. He couldn’t explain the urge he had to get to know you. Colin felt certain that if he wasn’t to see you in the next day or so he was to go mad from the unknown.

Luckily for his sanity, he spies a familiar head of hair amongst the shelves, and he cannot help the surge of happiness that runs through him when he recognises you reading the spines of the books. “Miss (Y/L/N)!” Colin calls out in greeting; rushing over to you.

“Mr. Bridgerton,” You smile, “How have you been? Have you decided on your next destination?”

“I have not though I’ll think of something soon.”

“I look forward to finding out. I’m sure Lady Whistledown will report on it.”

“I’m sure she will,” He drawls; his contempt for the author of the gossip sheet well known amongst family and friends. “How did the romances go down with your aunt? Did she enjoy them?”

Nodding your head, you explain, “Very much so. She usually stays awake for a chapter or two before falling asleep, but this time she stayed awake for close to five. I’m here looking for more books by the same author.”

“Would you like some help?”

“Only if you aren’t too busy. I wouldn’t want to pull you away from something more important.”

Colin shakes his head. “I would be happy to help.”

It takes the better part of an hour. Colin proving to be a distraction to your thoughts as you trawl through the shelves in the library. His very presence throws your mind into overdrive; overthinking his intentions for helping you, but also noticing just how handsome he truly is.

“I think we have enough for now,” You eventually comment, finding it hard to keep the sadness out of your voice as you realise that your time with the Bridgerton is up.

“Are three books enough?” Colin asks warily, as if he doesn’t want the time spent together to end either.

Sighing, you nod, “It’s enough to keep her occupied for a while. It takes us a few weeks to get through one book with me visiting her only twice a week.”

Colin nods understandingly, “Then the other romance novels must be for you.”

You raise an eyebrow, “I much prefer adventure novels though I did tell you that the first time we had met. Though I suppose I didn’t make that much of an impression.”

“I can assure you; you did. I just couldn’t help but notice that you must read far quicker than your aunt so surely you must read the other books you have borrowed.”

Caught out, you avert your gaze back to the books in your hand. Colin tries not to smile in triumph but fails miserably. “How often do you come here?” Colin asks, “Do you borrow books for your aunt alone, or do you read to another relative?”

Pursing your lips, you think over your answer. “I only read to my aunt and I suppose I come here at least once a week, usually on a Wednesday.”

Colin nods, “I shall see you next Wednesday then.”

Watching the Bridgerton walk away from you, you cannot help but wonder what exactly you had gotten yourself into.

-------------

The friendship that develops with Colin Bridgerton felt entirely natural; as if at some point in your lives your paths were always meant to cross, and a friendship was to begin. Colin finds you in and amongst the stacks of books the following week; a triumphant grin on his lips and his eyes bright with happiness when he finds you once again in the romance aisle.

He starts to offer you suggestions of books to read, meeting you at the library week after week; all the whole continuing his research into where he wants to travel next. He hasn’t settled on a destination, yet he comes to realise that this is the longest he has remained in London in years. Usually, Colin would return home, manage a month with his family before taking off again. A routine his mother has come to despise despite offering her blessing for every trip.

Weeks continue to pass and whilst his family know that Colin has become infatuated with someone, he isn’t ready to share you with them yet. He isn’t ready for the inspecting glances and interrogations from his mother, brothers, and sisters. For now, Colin was more than content to share you with the romance books you swear you don’t love as much as you truly do.

------------

The café is busy and getting busier from a lunch rush when Colin sits down across from you. His hair remains a mess despite how often he runs his hands through it in an attempt to flatten it; his eyes are bright as he smiles widely at you.

“I thought you were going to be late,” You admonish, but there’s no heat behind it.

Colin takes a sip of his tea, “I could never be late, not for you.”

“You’re a flatterer.”

“And you’re a romance fan, no matter how many times you try to deny it. Tell me, what are you reading right now?”

You purse your lips, deciding whether to relay the information to him, but the longer you wait, the larger his smile gets. “Definitely not those novels,” You comment, “There is romance in my latest book, but I am reading it for the adventure. It has pirates if you must know, very adventurous.”

Colin laughs, reaching for one of the small cakes on the stand.

“I don’t know how I stand your company,” You complain, trying your best to calm your stomach long enough for you to enjoy the food on your plate. The butterflies raging there were making it rather hard.

“You like me, that’s why.”

“I suppose that is more judgement on me than it is you.”

Colin’s only answer is to wink before returning his attention to the food on his plate. For a while, it is silent between the two of you. happy smiles are exchanged between you both and quiet laughter when you both reach for the same cake; Colin, ever so gracious, lets you have the cake. Instead, he tops up his tea and then yours from the teapot.

“I would like to visit Russia next; I think – St. Petersburg,” Colin declares, breaking the silence once and for all.

“Truly? You would travel so far?” You ask, eyes wandering to the globe on the table in the corner of the room, a display item. Centred on England, Russia could not be seen for the distance between them.

“I’d travel to all four corners of the earth if I could,” Colin admits, voice honest.

You sit back in your chair, eyes wide with wonder at the prospect of travelling even outside the county without a chaperone. “I’d love to travel.”

“It is a marvel,” Colin smiles, thinking back to his trips through Europe and the Mediterranean.

“The only chance I’ll get to travel is on my honeymoon which will be a marvel in itself,” You reply, picking at an invisible thread on your skirts.

“Why?”

You sigh, “Mother doesn’t hold much hope for my marrying. She believes that I have been out for too many seasons and have nothing left to offer that could possibly entice a man into courting me, never mind proposing.”

Colin finds himself gripping the arm of his chair in an attempt to keep his anger at bay. Such words leaving your mouth should be a crime. You have plenty to offer. However, at the sight of your slumped shoulders and sad eyes, Colin realises that you believe the words of your mother; that you truly have nothing left to offer.

On a whim, Colin asks, “Are you attending the Duchess of Hasting’s ball tonight?”

Shaking your head, you explain, “Mother isn’t one for huge events no matter the title of its holder.”

Colin surges forward, grasping your gloved hand, “Come, please. My sister won’t mind. I’ll have her add you to the guest list and send a carriage for you.”

You remain silent as you think over his proposition, ready to turn him down and return to your life of safety but the determination in his eyes and the joy in his smile leaves you nodding your head instead.

“Alright,” You agree, “I shall wait for you carriage.”

------------

The London home of the Duke and Duchess of Hastings could only be described as grand. Candles line the way to courtyard in which the ball would be held; they provide a romantic atmosphere, providing many a dark corner where young couples could sneak away from their chaperones.

Upon your announcement, you find yourself walking through the large crowd of people, unwittingly searching for the familiar head of brown hair. He finds you first, however, smiling widely as he notices you in the crowd.

Colin excuses himself from his conversation; making his way over to you as fast as he can without bringing too much attention to himself.

“You came,” Colin breathes as if in disbelief that you stand before him. His eyes run over you; taking it all in as his heart races. He hasn’t felt like this before; he hasn’t ever known anyone to make him feel like this. Colin feels as if he wants to show you everything, introduce you to everyone, but also keep you for himself should anyone want to steal you away.

“I said I would,” You smile, heated from his attention.

“You look beautiful,” Colin states truthfully.

“Thank you,” You answer, “You look very handsome too.”

“Would you care to dance?” Colin asks, a hand outstretched and waiting.

Smiling, you nod your acceptance. You take his offered hand, letting him leads you to the dancefloor where many other couples are readying themselves for the opening notes of the dance. Out of the corner of your eye, you spy Anthony’s eldest brother getting ready to dance with his wife, Kate. He offers Colin a smile and a nod to which Colin’s shoulders relax somewhat. You raise an eyebrow at the brunette only for Colin to shake his head; nothing you need to worry about.

Colin’s hands find themselves in the correct position son your body as you reach for his free hand, resting your hand on his shoulder. The music soon starts up and Colin begins to lead you round the dancefloor in a flurry of spins that leaves you giggling. His face lights up at the sound of your laughter, soon finding himself joining in.

“Stay for one more dance?” He asks as the music dies and you pull away, desperate not to let go of you just yet, happy enough right now to feel your hand in his and your body pressed so close.

“I’d love to,” You answer honestly, letting yourself be pulled back to the dancefloor where Colins hands soon start to feel like home on your body.

By the end of the second dance, you begin to feel dizzy from the spinning. Smiling gratefully at Colin, you apologise for having to bow out. He dismisses your apology with a wave of his hand, “Shall we get a drink? I’m sure I saw some lemonade not too long ago.”

“Lemonade sounds perfect. I seem to have worked up quite a thirst.”

“Then by all means,” Colin declares, bowing dramatically at the waist, “We must get the lady a drink.”

Laughing softly, you follow Colin to the drinks table where he hands you a small glass of the cold drink. He goes to take a drink from his own glass but is distracted by his mother calling his name. Colin apologises before leaving you in the company of his sisters, Eloise and Hyacinth.

“Good evening, mother,” Colin greets, dropping his head to kiss her on her cheek.

“Two dances in a row?” She asks as greeting, curious to know just who has distracted her son in this manner.

Colin ducks his head; not ashamed to have been caught out in his feelings, but ashamed that he hasn’t introduced you to his family as of yet. Across the room, despite the music, he hears your laughter. His attention rests on you as he watches you laugh at something said by either Eloise or Hyacinth. Your smile is wide as you try to cover it with your hand; trying to be polite but neither sister care that much as they continue to make you laugh.

You’re beautiful, he realises. He’s known it all along, of course, but with that smile on your face, Colin cannot help but desire to be the one who brings such a smile to life. He wants to be the cause of your smiles and your laughter; the reasons why your eyes crinkle in the corner. He wants it all; he wants it with you.

“I think you know why you haven’t set off on another adventure,” Violet states pointedly; eyes dancing between her son and where you stand, talking to Eloise and Hyacinth. A mother always knows.

Colin’s eyes don’t need to follow his mother’s; they had been on you since you excused yourself from him. He’s finally ready to confront what he had known along. “I think I know too. Do you approve?” He asks; realising he sounds like a child desperate for his mother’s attention.

Violet Bridgerton smiles, brushing Colin’s cheek softly with a gloved hand. “I think you suit each other perfectly.”

The smile that breaks over Colin’s face could only be described as blinding as he takes his mother’s hand from his face, kissing the back of it before leaning in to kiss her cheek. Against her cheek, he whispers, “Thank you, mother.”

Violet nods, eyes lined with tears as she watches her third eldest son walk away from her. She would be the first to admit how well suited you both are; the need for adventure alive in the both of you. She shakes her head fondly as she watches her son make his way over to you; holding out his hand, asking you to dance to which you graciously accept.

Violet begins to walk the outskirts of the ballroom; feeling nothing but pride and happiness for each one of her children and elated in the knowledge that there was soon to be another marriage in the Bridgerton household.

-----------

The morning after the ball is a pleasant one. The weather wonderfully warm as the sun shines through the windows; heating the drawing room pleasantly. Turning your face, you take in the rays, careful not to risk too much exposure.

Your latest read remains open on your lap as you continue to bask in the warmth of the sun. So far, the book has captured your attention and has failed to let it go. The heroine of the novel too relatable personality wise for you to take a break long enough. At this point in the novel, she had offered an ultimatum to her suitor – he can join her on her next escapade, or he can find another woman to marry. You could only hope he would join her in her next adventure; their comradery was too perfect to end so suddenly.

However, after the events of last night, you found it hard to focus on the book long enough to turn the page. Instead, you found yourself reading the same line over and over again, desperately trying to lose yourself in the witty prose of the author.

But your mind focused on last night: the music, the dancing, the company. It had been a dream; it felt like a dream – only your mind could cook something up so perfect, yet deep down you knew you had experienced every second. You were certain you were still dizzy from the spins you had taken when dancing with Colin.

Biting your lip, you think back to the three dances you had shared with the third eldest Bridgerton. Three dances – could it be true? Shaking your head, you answer your own question. It was true; you remember every moment with crystal clarity. Three dances with Colin had to mean something; it had to mean he felt something for you. Your heart begins to race as you think of the possibilities

“Miss,” Your Butler states, interrupting your daydreaming, “A Mr. Colin Bridgerton is here to call on you.”

“Show him in,” You answer, standing from your window seat, brushing down the skirts of you dress. Biting your lip, you could only hope that you looked presentable.

“(Y/N),” Colin greets as he enters the room, a large smile on his face. A bouquet of red roses and lady’s breath in his hand that he offers to you.

“They’re beautiful, Colin. Thank you,” You whisper, eyes darting around the room for a vase. They would be put in there after Colin had left.

“I’m glad you think so.”

“What did I do to deserve flowers though?” You ask, a teasing note in your voice.

Colin smiles, “I know where I want to travel to next. I came to tell you.”

A pang of disappointment rushes through your body soon followed by upset. Placing the flowers on the nearest table, you do what you can to avoid his gaze as you ask, “When do you leave?”

“That’s the thing,” He starts, shifting nervously, “I have something to ask of you before.”

“What?”

“Travel with me. Come with me,” He all but pleads, reaching for your hand, “As my wife.”

Your eyes widen as Colin’s grip on your hand tightens. “What?” You question, breath coming in a hurry. “What are you asking me, Colin?”

“I’m asking you to marry me so we can travel together. I’ve seen the world once; I want to see it again with you.”

“I have to admit this isn’t what I expected today,” You ramble, trying your best to not look into his eyes. The moment you do, you’re done for.

“(Y/N)…” Colin interrupts, cutting off your nervous rambling. “I need to know an answer, love.”

It’s only then that you let yourself look into his blue eyes; reading the emotions written over his face. He was promising you adventure; the likes of which you had only read in books. Colin was promising you a future full of love and laughter; a dream you had hoped for since you were a young child.

Suddenly, as you look into his blue, blue eyes, it’s all clear.

“Yes,” You whisper, somewhat breathless but entirely ready to begin your future with the man in front of you, “Let’s see the world together.”

********

Bridgerton Taglist: @heloisedaphnebrightmore @dreaming-about-fanfictions @now-its-time-for-a-breakdown @janelongxox @aspiringsloth20 @wallwriterstuff​

[equizona]

Hiii!! How are you? I hope you are doing great💕✨

I wanted to request headcanons for the bros having a normal dinner at the HoL until Mc who used to have really long hair shows up with a self-cuted bob, you can tell they cutted it by themselves but it’s still cute. When the bros asked about it they responded that they were having a really bad day and they cut their hair as an alternative to self harm.

If you feel uncomfortable you can skip the self harm part! I understand! I was just having a bad day and I decided to cut my hair for the same reasons and my Mamá didn’t take it really nicely, and idk i guess I just want comfort. Thank you I love your writing and again, I hope you have a nice day💕💕✨✨

Scenario: cutting your hair as an alternative to self harm

Note: Hello there! First, I wanna say how proud I am of you, even if I don't know you. The fact you cut your hair instead of cutting is amazing and I am so proud of you. I hope you continue to stay strong, and I'm sorry this took so long! Feel free to contact me if you need someone to talk to. [P.S: I did change the request up but it's mostly the same!]

Fandom: Obey Me!

Character's: Lucifer, Mammon, Leviathan, Satan, Asmodeus, Beelzebub, Belphegor.

Reader: Kinda G-N! But also has hints that you're most likely a female in this.

Warnings: self harm mentions?

He's very confused.

He does NOT remember you ever leaving the house of lamentation, and your hair was still long earlier this morning.

What happened?

He'll ignore it though.

He'll give you compliments about your hair, and he'll be surprised when you say you cut it on your own.

Tells you that you have talent.

After dinner, he'll ask for you to meet up with him in his office.

He'll immediately ask you why you cut your hair.

Was something wrong? Did you simply want a change? Are you sure you won't regret it? He could find you someone who could grow your hair back out for you if you did?

When you tell him you did that instead of self cutting he's... uncertain on how to feel.

Firstly, he is EXTREMELY proud of you for deciding to do that rather than cut yourself.

He's also a bit disappointed in himself that he didn't notice.

He'll pull you in for a hug, and tell him how proud he is of you for doing that. And how lovely your hair looks short.

He'll tell you to talk to him if you ever feel that you need to cut, and you don't have any other option.

Or if you are simply sad.

He'll get you a therapist if you don't want to speak to him or his brothers.

He'll do almost anything so that you can feel better.

Won't get you knives or things that you can hurt yourself with, but anything else is fair game.

Shocked because why???

Your hair was so nice, and silky! And he loved running his fingers through it and making different hairstyles and all that fun stuff.

He's kinda sad.

But also, you look really good with that hair style?

And you did it on your own?

....ever thought about opening a hair salon? People would pay so much if you had that much talent and skill.

Now, Mammon is most likely the one that is the best on emotions of ALL his brothers.

He can tell when you're not feeling yourself, and it's only like 100 times stronger thanks to the pact you both have.

He'll talk to you when you're both cuddled up in your room, asking you what happened.

When you tell him he'll put the mask he usually has on down and let you know how amazing you are and how proud he is.

Will offer to speak to Lucifer about getting you a therapist, if you'd like.

It won't matter if this is a common way you feel, it only happens once or twice or this only happened once.

He'll do anything you ask of him.

'Cause he loves you more than even money.

Kinda jealous because he' never be able to look good with a hairstyle like that.

And then you're just like

"Oh, I cut it myself."

And he just shirt circuts.

You can cut hair? And even more importantly, your own hair!?!?!?!??!?!

That's so cool!

Why did you never tell him?

At least he's happy that it doesn't seem like any of the others knew about it either.

Now, I honestly feel like Levi's bad thoughts about himself has led him down the path of self harm.

He's surpsingly strong willed, and almost always manages to catch himself and do something else.

And he recognizes what you did as a common thing to do instead.

Asks just to be sure.

And when you tell him that yes, that was why you did it, he's heartbroken.

You don't deserve feelings like that. Actually, you deserve everything good and only the good.

He'll be a lot nicer, doing his best to give you compliments on the new hairstyle and telling you how proud he is.

Mainly fails, but it's okay.

He's trying, and he'll try his best for you to be happy.

<3<3<3<3<3

This man feeds off of anger, so if you did it in a fit of rage or anger, no matter small, he's there in a second to ask how you're doing.

If not? He won't notice. It's only anger he can feel, much to his dismay.

He'll have troubles connecting the dots at first, and will only be handing you out compliments next to Asmo.

Then it hits him that it might be more to it, considering how you're acting.

He'll wait until after dinner and claim you have to help him with something.

Get's really angry when you tell him why you did it.

Not at you though, never at you. At himself, and lucifer, at everything.

He won't keep it up long though, calming down really quickly.

He'll ask you to sit down and read with him, or he'll read to you. Or you can do something on your D.D.D while he reads.

Whatever you want.

Hell, he might decide to let you drag him out somewhere.

Whatever it takes to make you feel even a tiny bit better.

Immediately gushing about how amazing you look with the new hairstyle.

He wants to know where you cut it in the first ten seconds he sees you.

Super shocked when he finds out you did it on your own.

Will ask you to trim his hair sometime.

To be fair, he's no stranger to doing things about his appearance in a fit of strong emotion.

Something Lucifer isn't always the happiest about.

He won't point it out though, if you want to talk, you know he's there.

He drops hints like that, just to be sure.

If you do tell him the reason, he'll immediately pull you in for a hug and shower you in compliments.

Not only on your appearance, but on how amazing you did to cut your hair instead of cutting your skin.

Self care day

He'll push away any of his brothers, doing his best to make you feel the most confident you have ever felt in your own body

Also, he'll make sure you know he's there for you and offer to get a therapist if you'd like one

When it starts to get late he'll put on a movie in the background and cuddle you💞💞💞

He thinks you look great with the new hairstyle!

You looked amazing before as well, but you also look amazing now!

Honestly, he kinda forgets about it during the dinner, a hair cut doesn't change who you are and you're still his very best friend and love of his life

He'll do his normal "get up at 12am and drag you for midnight snacks."

And if you tell him, he'll drop his food and pull you in for a hug

He doesn't say much, but offers you his food.

Whenever he's sad, food makes him feel better, so he does what he knows and hopes it'll share you up too

He'll also be willing to do anything you ask

Want him to carry you? Hug you? Cuddles? Want him to talk to lucifer for you? Want to vent? Want to cry?

He's there for you

Honestly, I doubt he even notices.

He's to busy sleeping to care.

When he DOES notice it's when he drags you down to sleep and tries nuzzling his face into your long hair-

Wait it's gone?

He'll get kinda pissy, 'cause he liked your long hair, but then he noticed it's still super soft and just goes back to sleep

He won't even bring up the possibility that you did it as an alternative to self harm

It crossed his mind but he refuses to believe it

If you tell him, he'll react kinda negatively, and won't talk to you

For like 30 minutes max

Most likely only for like 5 minutes though

He'll realize that he should be there for you

Isn't sure what to do, so he just kinda cuddles you and apologies for how he reacted

He's very lazy put he puts in an extra effort to tell you how proud he is

Because cutting your hair is way better than hurting yourself and you did super good doing the hair cutting instead

He'll let his brothers help you during the day, and have you cuddle with him at night so he can make sure you have the best dreams

I'd say he's horrible at it, but the effort is actually pretty obvious and he makes sure you're guarded in the night

He tries

His best

And it works to some degree

<3

[small-round-and-angry]

My opinions about the Loki (2021) series. Spoilers and all that.

I took some time off the fandom until I felt it was time to make this post, if only to get it out of my system, so I can finally rest. I thought, since I was so pumped for the series to begin with, before it was launched and everything, and how I waited to expectantly for every episode that was airing weekly, that the empty feeling I was experiencing after it was all done was just because, well, it was all done.

I thought maybe it was the normal empty-chested-feeling you get when you finish a movie, series, or book that you really liked / waited a lot for.

It was not it. It didn’t pass. It got worse.

I’m going to put this under a cut, and under the anti-tags, because I know some people liked this show and not everyone has to be miserable with me.

I want to preface this by saying that I respect everyone that was involved in this project, and I know that it may be gut-wrenching to receive criticism on something that you worked in, but I feel cheated. I feel lied to. It’s one thing to work hard and be thoughtful and still receive bad reviews, but I don’t think this is the case at all.

To start it all, I was so excited to see Loki again. He’s the only character that I maintained any attachment to throughout so long, sometimes more, sometimes less, but I always considered myself a fan since I saw The Avengers (2012) with my parents in the theaters, at the ripe age of 12. To be honest, Loki was what got me into superhero movies, and into the marvel fandom at all. And I knew, or at least suspected, that they would do something different with the character. I was ready for that, after reading the comics and realizing that MCU Loki and Comics Loki are two different versions of the same character (more on that later). And I thought it was even going to be for the best, since Tom Hiddleston, bless his heart, was one of the executive producers and, I thought, would have more of a say on Loki’s character arc during the series.

What I watched was, to be completely fair with myself, not Loki. I couldn’t really pinpoint it at the time, but I keep expecting something to happen after he was captured by the TVA to show us his mind at work. A scheme, a plan, anything remotely smart that he cooked up. And yet, nothing. He kept acting…Not Loki. As time passed, I hoped he was biding his time, fooling everyone, that he would reveal his masterplan at the season finale and go back to the main timeline. The series ended and I didn’t see Loki, any of them, act as Loki once.

Maybe it’s because I am a fan of the older version of MCU Loki. The darker, more complicated one. I didn’t want a redeeming arc at all, I don’t think all villains or anti villains need a redeeming arc. That’s boring. And, to my interpretation of his character, shouldn’t be in his future at all. Loki thrives on the gray area. I love not knowing what he is to the other characters, the chaos, the lying and manipulation, the grand schemes. This new content we’ve been getting, since Ragnarok, depict him as a more comedic, campy character (which is …fine? Meh, I don’t care for it).

And of course, that’s not to say Tom Hiddleston didn’t do a good job. Poor man did his best with what was given to him by the writers. It’s hard to keep a character consistent, however, when every director and screenwriter seems to have a different idea of who they are. He kept it together fairly well when Taika attempted to assassinate Loki’s character, but Kate Herron snapped his neck harder than Thanos ever could. And for what?

Sylvie.

Now, hear me out. There’s nothing wrong with the concepts of Sylvie, Lady Loki, and a Love interest. Separately. In trying to bring everything together in one character, the writers not only could not come up with a compelling woman character, but also had to bring down an already well established character, the TITULAR character, no less, so she could look somewhat presentable, which is insulting. And they Still failed. I don’t like the pairing either, but that’s not what I’m talking about (right now). The truth is, I don’t know Sylvie. She just got here, I have no emotional attachment to her whatsoever, so I won’t feel for her the same I feel for Loki, who’ve I watched for almost a decade. And instead of trying to build an emotional connection between Sylvie and the viewer, they chose to spoon-feed us a romance between her and Loki.

Well, more between Loki and Her, and not even that. I felt like Loki was always trailing her like a lost puppy, and big eyes and expectations, and she was giving him…Absolutely nothing. All the sweet moments between them were initiated by him, all the talking about feeling were done by him, all the looks and gestures…And although I understand Sylvie grew up in apocalypses and Loki grew up in a palace, she still claimed to have romantic partners. Multiple, man and women. And still, showed no visible interest in Loki up until the kiss scene, which I suspect was more to shut him up and send him flying that anything.

Excuse me if I want Loki to have a love interest who is actually invested in him too.

And Why make her a Loki variant at all if she is adamant she isn’t Loki? Why go to the extent of dying her hair blonde (where in the apocalypse did she manage to get her hair blonde? WHY?) and then give her horns? If she was taken as a child, where did she get the very Asgardian like leather armor she used? WHERE IS THIS INFORMATION?

If they were going to go so far to alienate her from the identity of being a Loki variant just so they could pair her with Loki and it not be weird (it was), why make her a variant at all? If you’re going to make a selfcest pairing, at least commit to it. Sylvie Lushton, from where they got the name, isn’t a Loki Variant, if anything She’s an Amora Variant. Why name her Sylvie if she has no relation to Amora?

The plot has so many holes and is so disappointing. I was promising Loki playing around and causing havoc with time traveling. When I saw Richard E. Grant had been cast, I imagined the big bad would be King Loki, like in the comics! Something about Loki seeing what he becomes if he let darkness completely consume him, and finding balance in his chaos, after all. The premise of Loki healing though observing himself, or variants of himself, was honestly good. His variants, however, where so underused, poorly used, made Loki look like a fool. Even he was ashamed of their interactions. And Kid Loki apparently Killed Thor, which makes him the leader (???) and that’s never mentioned again. President Loki, who was a big part of the appeal of the trailer, is gone in two minutes. And then there’s the mirror scene from the trailer, that didn’t even make it to the series.

There are other things that bother me a lot about this too, but it’s not my place to discuss them in dept. To list, if anyone is interested in knowing: The underdevelopment of black character, and the reaction of the fandom, to my knowledge, to said black characters, in special Ravonna and Boastful Loki. The misrepresentation of gender fluid people, which if I can recall was one of the points they sold to us as something they would touch into Loki’s characterization. Some people have pointed out that it was biphobic to pair Loki with a woman after he “came out” on screen as bisexual. I am bisexual, and I disagree, but I can see why it’s an issue for a lot of people, as mlm relationships are rare in MCU canon. What I thought was Biphobic, however, was having Loki not show us he was bi, rather than telling us.

In summary, I am very disappointed, and I am mourning. This series managed to do what End Game didn’t, which was kill all hope I had to ever have Loki back. He’s gone.

[nat-20s]

Wonderful! Au Part 7! (also on ao3 here) another episode only installment, and obnoxiously fluffy! Have fun!

~*~

Martin, tired: Hello everybody! Welcome, or welcome back, to a very low energy episode. We have had, as the kids say, A Week Tm.

Jon, equally tired, but fond: Is that as the kids say?

Martin: I don't know, and perhaps worse, I don't really care. I guess I could ask Jeremiah next time he's over, but I'm not sure if that would actually help.

Jon: Shockingly, I don't think two year olds have their finger on the beating pulse of youth culture.

Martin: Hmm, maybe not. Speaking of Jeremiah, he's part of why the format of this episode is gonna be a bit different than our regular. On top of me dealing with a frankly obscene amount of inventory management, and Jon being swamped with grant writing-

Jon: I never want to look at proposal guidelines again-

Martin: we were on babysitting duty for our favourite neighborhood hellion-

Jon: Hey, Jeremiah is a very sweet kid! I know he's a toddler, but we shouldn't be slandering him anyway.

Martin: One, we're not even using his real name, I don't think that counts as slander, and two, exactly, he's a toddler, he's by default a hellion.

Jon, teasing: This coming from the person that actually wants one?

Martin: I..look, if anything, the last few days have shown we should not be permanent parents.

Jon: But?

Martin:...There's no but.

Jon: I don't believe you! Are you lying for my benefit or the audience's? Because someone spent the last five days wearing one of the largest grins I've ever seen, exhausted as it may have been.

Martin: Okay! Fine, I admit, I liked having a kid around. I still think it would be a bad idea to do it full time, but I dunno. I wish we weren't both only children or something. We would make such good uncles.

Jon: Should I should have taken that teaching job after all?

Martin: Perhaps. After all,

Martin, singsong: An English teacher, is really someone!

Jon and Martin, singing together: If only you, had be-come one!

Jon: Honestly, though, I was considerably underqualified. I'm much more suited to my current job, even if it doesn't have quite the same impact on the "shaping of the next generation" or whatnot.

Martin: Wait, you actually care about qualifications now? When did that change?

Jon: This coming from Mister "master's degree in parapsychology"? And it was probably around the time that the world ended from taking on a workload I was ill-suited for.

Jon:...

Jon: Metaphorically speaking, of course.

Martin: Oh, of course. Definitely nothing literally apocalyptic in our pasts, no siree, nothing to see or speculate about or make weirdly involved forums for here. Uh, anyway, long introduction not so short: Both of us have been averaging about 4 hours of sleep, so any sort of actual research was not on the table.

Jon: If any of you are wondering why we didn't just say that we're both very much worn out and thus we'll be taking a week off, it's because we're both deeply, deeply stubborn.

Martin: It's one of our best shared qualities that has never caused any conflict between us, ever.

Jon: In fairness, sheer stubbornness does account for, what, 75% of the reason that either of us are still alive? And it hasn't caused a major conflict between us in a good three years.

Martin: That's true. We've become a deeply boring, relatively conflict free couple. Which fucking rules, by the way. To all the couples out there: I highly recommend being boring. It is so nice. We've gotten to go to the farmer's market so many times.

Jon: You do love the farmer's market. I would say that it's the access to fresh produce, but I think you just like the attention that one yarn seller gives you. Can't believe you would take advantage of a crush to get discounts on wool. How did I marry such an opportunist?

Martin: Ollie does not have a crush on me. They're just friendly to everyone.

Jon: Bullshit. I certainly never get an extra skein or stitch markers or delicate fabric cleaner tossed in my bag. Actually, I think I've been charged more for committing the crime of having married you before they could.

Martin: I'm..70% sure that's not true, but every sentence we speak, we stray further from even pretending to be on topic. So, to everybody listening, this is the itty bitty episode! Basically, we're only doing small wonders and user submissions. If you want details or backstory for things we like, too bad, come back next week. Jon, I believe you're first this week?

Jon: Oh, right. My first small wonder is cat names.

Martin: Delightful, but unsurprising. Though, I would've expected either more or less specificity. Why cat names as opposed to pet's names in general, or, like, military title names?

Jon: Well that's simple enough. I've simply never met a misnamed cat, even if the name itself wasn't to my personal tastes, and I think that speaks to the wonderful universality of cats.

Martin: This, of course, implies that you have met animals that were misnamed.

Jon: Oh, I have. I once met a papillion dog named Meatball.

Martin: Now I know you don't like food names in general for pets, but are you sure that Meatball didn't suit the dogs personality? I've known some "Meatballs" in my lifetime.

Jon, only half-mock offended: Of course it didn't fit, Martin. She was a lady. A nervous, jittery lady, but a lady nonetheless.

Martin, laughing: And what, you've never met a dignified cat with an undignified name, or vice versa? Would you be okay with our cat being named Meatball?

Jon: I would be upset if our cat was named Meatball, because we named her and we're above that sort of thing, but, technically speaking, she could have been Meatball in another lifetime and it wouldn't have been wrong. You see, all cats are a mix of both extremely austere and little baby idiot.

Martin: Oh, is that the scientific terminology?

Jon: It is. Now, while there's probably some amount of, er, normative determinism or confirmation bias or something that results in a cat with a more dignified name seeming to possess more of that austerity, as all cats have both, any name can, potentially, fit. Hence why it's wonderful.

Martin: I..accept your proposal for now, but I think more research needs to be done. Maybe we should visit the shelter this weekend and test your hypothesis.

Jon: Hmm. I think we may need to visit multiple shelters, actually. A large sample size is necessary for any sort of veracity, obviously.

Martin, imitating Jon tone: Obviously.

Jon: Glad you agree. What's your first small wonder?

Martin: Tofu!

Jon: I..didn't realize you liked that much?

Martin: Well, I don't get it very often since I know you can't stand the texture, even though it is not like 'worse scrambled eggs', and you're a horrible food thief-

Jon: Lies and slander. We readily share. If I'm a horrible food thief, you have committed the exact same, if not worse, crime as myself.

Martin: Well, we are thick as thieves.

Jon, groaning: You're thick as something alright

Martin: Rude! My beloved husband-

Jon: -uh huh-

Martin: whom I love and trust with my most tender of hearts-

Jon: -an oddly cannibalistic turn of phrase-

Martin, badly suppressing laughter: Oh, my god. I want a divorce, then I can put tofu in as many dishes as I like. I'll triple my protein intake.

Jon: It'd never go through. I'll burn the papers. No, wait, I'll burn down the legal offices where the papers are kept.

Martin: Hmm. While my experiences with it have been, uh, varied to say the least, I do have to admit that arson is one of the more attractive crimes of passion. I suppose I'll take you back.

Jon, flat: I'm so very grateful.

Jon, genuine: You do have yet to actually tell me why you think tofu is wonderful, love.

Martin: It's just a good food! It's neutral enough that you can toss it in pretty much anything with a sauce, you can bake it, you can fry it, whatever. Plus it's what? two? Three quid? I spent many years of my life living off the cheapest, saltiest approximation of noodles you could imagine, and half a pack of tofu, a little bit of sesame oil, and some green onions went a long way to both making it more filling and less sad. 

Martin: Plus, I feel like it often gets decried for being something it's not? It's so often viewed as a meat substitute or the vegan alternative option, and so when people try it, they often go in with a false preconceived notion of what it's going to be like, and then end up disappointed. They're all like, 'ugh, this doesn't taste like turkey!' and yeah, of course it doesn't. It's the oatmeal raisin cookie of the protein world, a perfectly good and tasty treat on its own, but if you want chocolate chip, it's not gonna work.

Jon: Martin you don't even like oatmeal raisin. I'm the only one that ever eats them out of the multipacks.

Martin: Well, yeah, but I don't like oatmeal raisin because of its flavor, not because I think it should be chocolate chip and fails. It illustrates my point. Also, just for balance, is your next small wonder oatmeal raisin cookies?

Jon: No, though, maybe one of these weeks. They are good. But no, um, my next small wonder is being married.

Martin, let out a high bark of a laugh: Being married is a small wonder?!

Jon: Small wonders doesn't mean a lack of importance! Or even significance in our lives. Half the time we even end up spending just as much time chattering on about them as the things we actually research. But, yes, I didn't feel like researching the concept of being married. For one, a lot of the history of it is depressing and patriarchal, and for two, it's not something I really feel any need to elaborate on. Being married. I very much enjoy it. I recommend it for anybody that's found someone that they want to marry, and who wants to marry them. I really recommend being married to Martin Blackwood, I think I would enjoy it significantly less if it was to anybody else, but one: we typically try to make the wonderful things in this show  applicable to more than just ourselves, and two: I got there first, so I believe the appropriate thing to say here would be; neener neener and/or everyone else can go suck it, Ollie.

Martin: Well...

Jon: Well, what?

Martin: Saying you got there first is technically not true-

Jon: What?!

Martin, laughing like a bastard: Sorry, sorry! Couldn't resist! Jon, you already know that you're my first real realationship, how would be married before fit that?

Jon: Hence my surprise at the notion! I cannot believe you! I give you my trust, my earnestness, and belief-

Martin [only laughs harder]

Jon: and you throw it in my face for a bit. I take back everything, being married is a nightmare, because sometimes your partner thinks he a fucking comedian and you just have to put up with him because you love him and want to live the rest of your life with him or some such nonsense. Not worth it, if you ask me. My turn to ask for the divorce.

Martin: Babe, hate to break it to you, but both of us are guilty of doing bits that the other doesn't like, it's an integral part of  a healthy marriage, and secondly, you knew who I was long before I proposed. You should've said no when you had the chance.

Jon: Hang on, you proposed?

Martin: Yeah? This isn't part of a bit, of course I proposed. I'm even pretty sure you were there. The whole visit back to Scotland trip? I finally made you a sweater and said it was because we would now be immune to the boyfriend curse?

Jon: No, no, I remember all that, but it wasn't the proposal. It was a reaffirmation of the proposal. We had already decided to get married.

Martin: Well, yeah,, I wasn't just gonna spring that on you, we had had conversations beforehand-

Jon:  No, I mean, I had already proposed. I asked you to marry me a good three years earlier, and you said yes, which is a proposal by any definition that I know.

Martin: Jon, love, darling, apple of my eye, fire of my soul, I mean this in the nicest way possible, what the everloving fuck are you talking about?

Jon: In the ambulance ride when we, uh, moved here. It was the thing I said to you the second I saw your eyes were open.

[An audible pause is left in the recording.]

Martin: That does not count.

Jon: How does it not count?! I asked you to marry me, you very emphatically said yes, that's the de facto definition of an accepted marriage proposal!

Martin: It doesn't count because you were half-delirious with blood-loss, and I had a traumatic brain injury that the hospital was very surprised I made a full recovery from. No court in the world would consider anything we said then more than pain driven ramblings, let alone, I dunno, contractually binding.

Jon: Well, I knew what I was saying well and clear. Just because it was desperate doesn't mean it wasn't sincere. I didn't realize that you weren't as cognizant when you accepted.

Martin, snorting: Yeah, didn't really need to be cognizant to say yes. I've wanted to marry you since the train ride to Scotland.

Jon: Wait, really? Martin, we hadn't even been on a date.

Martin: And yet we were on the lamb together, which I honestly think is more romantic than sitting in some restaurant somewhere trying to get through icebreakers. Also, back up, from your perspective we've been engaged since 2019? What did you think we were doing in the interim?

Jon: Uhh..

Martin: Yes?

Jon: There are people that have long engagement periods, and it's not exactly like we were in any sort of position to get married for awhile. Especially not that first year.

Martin: Okay? And?

Jon: And..I sort of thought you had changed your mind. For awhile. Was rather surprised that you kept living with me, considering that, on the worst nights, I was convinced you were going to storm off and leave me forever any minute now. Hence why your proposal was rather relieving.

Martin: Oh, Jon, love. That is so very ridiculous, and so very you, and so very close to many of my own fears and doubts. Do you have any idea how terrified I was to float the idea of marriage to you? Half the time I was convinced I was just meant to keep you company until you found someone better. And, Christ, we'd, from your perspective, been engaged the whole damn time. Fuck.

[Jon, after a beat, starts laughing. It has a slightly hysterical edge to it. Martin joins in. It takes a minute for the laughter to subside enough for them to speak again.]

Jon: I'm rapidly realizing that our entire romantic relationship would've been, if not more successful, a hell of a lot faster if we weren't both complete fools.

Martin: You're realizing that now? I think I've known that since the CV incident. I've definitely known it since the Lonely.

Jon, with a slightly tired chuckle:Yes, yes, something probably should've tipped me off earlier. Shockingly, observation of our own personal romantic trends is not always a strong suit of mine.

Jon: Anyway, please tell me you have another small wonder, this has gotten wildly of track.

Martin: Since we're talking about marriage anyway, I think my next small wonder is having a shared reference in your wedding vows. Our friends had "I have been, and always shall be, your friend" in theirs, and I made Jon cry with a slightly altered Lord of the Rings quote in ours.

Jon: First off, we were both openly weeping long before that point, secondly, I defy anybody to have been through half of what we have and then have the love of their life look them in the eyes and tell them "Leave you? I never intend to. I am going with you, if you climb to the moon" without at least tearing up.

Martin: There wasn't a dry eye in the audience, either. Granted, the audience was only 20 people, but that was also literally the only time I've seen Eloise show a strong emotion, so I'm pretty smug about it.

Martin, soft: I still feel exactly the same, you know. If you're climbing to the moon, I'll make sure the rope is strong enough for two.

Jon, soft: I know, love.

Jon: Though, to be fair, the moon is also significantly more pleasant than many places we've been.

Martin: God, I hate how much that's true. Look at this barren, oxygenless rock, at least it's not actively trying to kill us. Practically a honeymoon location.

[Martin sighs]

Martin: I am so tired. Let's do the user submissions then take a very long nap.

Jon: Please.

Martin: So, first submission is from Josie; They find it wonderful getting cards from their friends. They say they're lucky to have so much love in their life and have friends that care enough to send them things. That is wonderful Josie! We have a drawer in our house dedicated to every loving card we've ever received since the move, and they're always such a nice reminder of the people in our lives.

Jon: We should really organize that drawer, but, yes, agree with the sentiment. Even the cards from people that are no longer in our lives are lovely, I think. Those connections are very much meaningful for both of us, whether they're active or not.

Martin: That's very true.  Next submission is from Lys, who submits the sound of leaves crunching under your feet in the fall. Ah, that's a classic.

Jon: I just felt myself relax imagining it. I wish it was autumn.

Martin: Don't we all? Alright, for the last submissions, I'm grouping them together as they follow a similar theme. Jadwiga submits the feeling of waking up well into the morning with the sun shining through the window and your cat laying next to you, and Oran submits when a dog falls asleep with its head in your lap.

Jon: I can heartily recommend at least one of those, considering that's how we try to wake up most mornings. The Duchess is a dutiful darling girl who spends every night with us, and she's usually still there when us humans rise.

Martin: I bet you'll agree with the other when I finally convince you to get me a dog for my birthday.

Jon: It hasn't happened yet, so I wouldn't hold your breath.

Martin: But you don't even dislike dogs! You're just as happy to pet them when they pass by as I am.

Jon: Being fine with an animal isn't the same thing as wanting to adopt one for yourself! We don't even know if The Duchess would put up with a dog.

Martin: I bet she would. I bet we could get a big senior dog who's the calmest animal you've ever met with those soft eyes and a little grey on the muzzle and she would cuddle up in an instant. And we did say we should visit a shelter or three this weekend..

Jon: I think you're rather callously taking advantage of my exhausted state, but I suppose we can look. 

Martin: Hell fuckin yeah. So, I think that'll close out the episode, and as we always say at the end, uh, go take a nap and get a dog. Not necessarily in that order.

[keyofjetwolf]

We’re All Just Guys

Well it took the entire fucking season, but I FINALLY get the purpose for Henry Fondle: Sex Robot. And while the entire episode (and season, honestly) has been tremendous, that this ridiculous fucking punchline was the vehicle to deliver the overarching point with a solid knockout punch of meaning AND pathos? Absolutely floored. That BoJack Horseman can be (and often is) brilliant isn’t a surprise, but the ways is keeps proving it often are.

So “The Stopped Show”, a tale of accountability and responsibility and how we’re all just guys.

Each of our main characters closes out this season alone (sort of), in assorted stages of realizing the main themes, or completely failing to. I find Diane’s arc the hardest for me to make a decision on, which isn’t surprising, as I think in many ways, Diane’s the most complicated character in the show. She delivers, directly and succinctly, one of the major points of not just this season but the entire show, but how does it relate to her? I’M NOT COMPLETELY SURE. I think part of the problem with (and for) Diane is that she knows better. She’s the most insightful character, she has a fantastic head on her shoulders, but only for everyone else. She’s this fucked up little disaster prophet, her vision clear and her message concise, unable to ever apply her gifts to fix herself.

Diane is just as trapped as BoJack, but in a fun twist, is now lagging behind him in trying to do something about it. Nearly every single scene with Diane this season has been in this sad little room of her sad little apartment with all her sad little unpacked boxes, and no matter how much truth and wisdom she spits out, HERE SHE STILL IS, failing to correctly assemble IKEA furniture with names like Bȧcksleid. She already feels like shit for sleeping with Mr. Peanutbutter, so what does she do? THE SAME FUCKING THING. To which I groan and roll my eyes, while simultaneously being proud of her for directly and immediately setting him straight about not getting back together. Diane rides this constant line where she gets it but also doesn’t, which is so interesting to me in the level of additional frustration this makes me feel. BoJack is so self-absorbed you don’t really expect any better of him, which has the flip side of your expectations being so low that even the whiff of progress feels exceptional. Diane doesn’t come with any of that though, she knows better, you KNOW she knows better, and the consequence of this for the audience is that she winds up being more unlikeable than the guy who literally last episode nearly strangled his girlfriend and co-star in the middle of a paranoid drug-induced frenzy.

Which is fucked up! It’s intensely fucked up! And also, I think, the point! We expect more of Diane, and so feel more disappointed when she doesn’t deliver. Is that fair of us?

But there’s more here, as we pivot to the accountability portion of this episode/season. From the beginning of the show, it’s been incredibly upfront about how everything is unfair. We come back to this time and again. Privilege rules the day in the world of Hollywoo. Fame, money, charisma, gender, power. BoJack has been an asshole from pretty much the moment he set foot in the spotlight (possibly before?), and the only thing ever even attempting to hold him back has been the moments his guilt manages to scream loud enough to be heard over his internal narrative. Whatever he does, however he fucks up, he always stumbles back to his feet, and NEVER with any (broad scale) consequences. Meanwhile, here’s Diane, in her sad shitty apartment. Consequences haunt Diane, even if she’s the one doing the haunting. The crap things she’s done and the shitty choices she’s made cling to her.

There’s no fairness in that either, no justice. But Hollywoo (and the entire world around it) (and our world too oh yes) has that privilege carved into its bones, and Diane bears none of its marks. Her situation is very different from but parallel to Gina, who is just so fucked over, it keeps legitimately making me angry for her.

Gina, of course, brought none of this on herself. She made the mistake of caring about BoJack and trying to help him. OOPS YOU WERE A GENEROUS PERSON WITH AN OPEN HEART FUCK YOU LADY. For her trouble, Gina has been assaulted and traumatized, AND she is in very real danger of her career being over when it’s only just finally beginning. And she KNOWS THIS. That’s the part that I keep coming back to. All this should be an aberration, an anomaly, and while that may be true of the specifics, conceptually, it’s so commonplace that Gina already knows how it’s going to play. She’ll stop being Gina and become The Woman Nearly Strangled To Death By BoJack Horseman. Even if she’s able to keep working, this is what she’ll be asked about in every interview forever. Even if she convinced people to genuinely listen to her, BoJack would, at worst, get a slap on the wrist as he stumbles back to his feet. We know that, WE ALL KNOW THAT, because it happens all. the. fucking. time. Gina did nothing wrong, but this would still define her for the rest of her life, while for BoJack, it would maybe become a footnote on his Wikipedia page.

Nothing about that is FAIR. Nothing about it is JUST. Gina’s choices shouldn’t have to be “this becomes my entire life” or “swallow this down and pretend it never happened”. But it is, as it has been in perpetuity for the victims of the privileged.

So then what can we do about it? Well that’s really the question, isn’t it? This episode answers it in an assortment of ways (I think the entire SHOW is very much about this, really, but this episode is for sure coming with guns blazing), while also showing us why none of those answers can work. It’s funny and sad and awful and true, but also, ultimately, the most hopeful answer because it’s the only one you can actually affect: It’s you. It’s me. It’s each and every one of us, individually, making a choice to be better.

And believe it or not, we embody this with Henry Fondle: Sex Robot.

I thought the whole thing was so unbelievably stupid. Half the season, we’ve had this goddamn multi-dildo’d juvenile frat boy joke running around with its stupid ass Speak-and-Say voice, doing the same shtick over and over, and I’m like, “okay this is just the shit I have to put up with to get the clever stuff, I guess.” BUT THAT’S EXACTLY THE POINT I’M SITTING THERE LIVING THE ENTIRE GODDAMN POINT AND MISSING IT. Henry Fondle: Sex Robot is seventeen shades of overt horribleness, AND WE ALL JUST GIVE IT A PASS. It’s just the way it is, the way the world works, the price of doing business. When the whole time -- THE ENTIRE FUCKING TIME -- all it took was one person to say no. One person who could see the game we all are playing and was willing to give up everything to stop it.

Hilariously, Henry Fondle IS a metaphor, sort of, but of the saddest kind. He is literally a robot, he can’t possibly change. What’s more, media fervor will never affect him, fallout will never touch him, and the powerful will always rally around themselves to retain their power. It takes Todd, the head of the company, the creator of Henry Fondle, and the one person who would benefit most from the unending efforts of the rest of the world bending over backwards to avoid the truth, to put a stop to it. In doing so, he immediately returns to his old, homeless, destitute self, but doesn’t once hesitate or look back.

It’s Todd, and only Todd, that stops that madness, because while individual people are a problem, the world at large is too. Stefani makes a great point that Diane holds herself and everyone else to impossible standards and a little forgiveness and grace wouldn’t go amiss, but when Diane suggests they apply that philosophy to their clickbait gossipy shit on their website, it’s just

Which again, is beautifully cynical and depressing, but not untrue. Fostering a more forgiving culture isn’t in stopping websites from posting clickbaity takedown articles, it’s each person deciding not to take the clickbait. We can absolutely have a conversation about the people creating their world or the world creating its people, but when you boil it down, only one of those things can you yourself absolutely and directly change, and it’s not the entire world.

A THING DIANE GETS BUT SIMULTANEOUSLY ABSOLUTELY DOES NOT.

I can’t take myself away from this Diane thing, I know, but only because she’s the fucking CORE of each and every one of us struggling with this idea. She’s the simplicity of it and the complication all in one. Not BoJack, which is NOT where I thought we’d be when we started this journey. BoJack is more an action on the people around him at this point in the story, he IS the world you cannot change. He’s pointed to rehab, and off he goes -- or doesn’t! I don’t think it’s coincidence that we stay with Diane and watch her watching him.

Oh, Diane, indeed. As she tells her story of her friend Abby, who threw her over for the cool kids, who turned every confidence into a scar. Who Diane still helped anyway, because Abby needed her. Did Abby learn from that, did she get better? We don’t know; we stay with Diane and watch her watching Abby. Diane, who can so completely understand about personal responsibility while failing to recognize her own enabling for the shitty things that keep happening to her.

You can control yourself. That’s it. That’s the only playground with a guarantee.

Will BoJack go off to learn that? Will Diane stay and figure it out?

THAT’S WHAT NEXT SEASON IS FOR

Something I was toying with including in this, but ultimately decided against for a variety of reasons, was the contrast between BoJack’s take on personal responsibility independent of external response, and The Good Place’s argument that people need external support for personal growth. An idea I may not have even considered contrasting save that Doc’s talked before about these two Jewish creators with what are clearly very different philosophies, and basically, if she were ever able to manage a discussion between them on this, I’d love to be in the room. I’ll be very quiet and not get in the way, I promise.

[kokorosfanfics]

Hey I’m a fan of your work and I was wondering if you could see if you have the time to write another teruteru hanamura x reader? I honestly don’t care what it’s about I just like what you write :>

Yesss pervy chef boy needs more love. I am disappointed in the lack of Teruteru x reader fics, and I’ve decided something needs to be done about that. -Mod Kokoro.

Teruteru With An S/O Who Gets Into A Lot Of Stupid Situations That Shouldn’t Be Physically Possible!

Teruteru sometimes wonders how you’re even still alive. He asked you once if you’d like to cook something with him, to which you told him. “I’d love to, but first I have to warn you I might be cursed. I once made cereal on my own and I set myself on fire.” He thought you were just kidding, but when you two were making sushi, a dish that doesn’t need a whole lot of cooking, you screamed, and he turned around to see you caught on fire, and he had to grab a bucket of water and splash it on you.

“Well, I told you I was cursed!” You told him.

“Darlin’. Mind running through what happened?” Teruteru had only asked you to to put fish on a cutting board.

“Well, I was putting the fish on the board like you asked, I smelled something burning, and when I looked my hand was on fire, and I freaked out.” You answered, honestly.

“That’s it? Did you touch anything hot?”

“Nope! I’m just cursed. Remember the cereal story? I’ve banned from cooking ever since.”

Teruteru decided to closely observe you again, and thankfully not much else happened, besides you cutting your finger while making rice balls.

“T-There wasn’t even anythin’ sharp!” His accent came out as he carefully bandaged your finger.

But it wasn’t just cooking. One time, the two of you were outside in the courtyard of Hope’s Peak Academy, and Teruteru looked away for ONE second, already a loud “CAWWWW” was heard, and a giant bird swooped down, took you by the shoulders, and carried you off.

“W-WHA-WHA WHAT IN THE WORLD?” Teruteru shouted, and stated running, and I mean running faster than he’s run in his life chasing after you. 

“TERUUUU! I FORGOT TO TELL YOU, MY CURSE ISN’T JUST LIMITED TO COOKING! THESE THINGS JUST HAPPEN OFTEN!” You shouted from above, with a big smile on your face.

“I CAN SEE DAT SUGAR! HOW DA HELL DO THESE THINGS EVEN HAPPEN? WHERE IS DAT STUPID BIRD TAKIN’ YOU?” Did you really get in situations like this often?

“I DON’T KNOW! BUT ONE TIME A SWARM OF BUTTERFLIES PICKED ME UP AND THEY BROUGHT ME ALL AROUND THE WORLD! IT WAS REALLY COOL, I EVEN GOT TO SEE THE EIFFEL TOWER! DID YOU KNOW THAT IT TAKES 3 WEEKS FOR BUTTERFLIES TO TAKE YOU TO EVERY COUNTRY THERE IS??” You asked him.

“DA HELL? BUTTERFLIES? HOW ON EARTH DOES THAT WORK? HOW DO SMALL INSECTS WORK TOGETHA LIKE DAT? OH WHO CARES- HOW DO I GET YA DOWN?” Teruteru was baffled, and running out of breath. But luckily for him, the giant bird happened to one of Gundhams birds.

“WING SLICER! RELEASE THE MORTAL AT ONCE!” Gundham came to your aid on his horse. He too, was surprised at the situation.

Wing Slicer reluctantly brought you back down, and went back to Gundham’s side.

“Whew! That was fun! I was so high up on the ground, I could even see other buildings, and forests, and I even saw the clouds close up! It was so cool!” 

Teruteru just hugged you. He was so terrified.

“Darlin’ I was so scared! I had no idea where dat bird was takin’ you!” 

“Hey, it’s okay. Gundham came and got Wing Slicer to put me down, I’m fine, see?” You hugged back. Teuteru isn’t sure in the slightest how you can be so casual about being abducted by a giant bird.

“Wing Slicer! What was going through your head when you captured this mortal? To which astral plane were you planning to take her/him/them too?” Gundham questioned his bird.

You, Gundham, and Teruteru all managed to fit onto Gundham’s horse and you all rode back to the school. Later, there were viral videos going around of you being carried off by a giant bird.

“Teru look! There’s a video from earlier when I was being carried by the bird!” He’s glad your alright, but doesn’t quite get how you’re so relaxed after the whole thing.

Teruteru thanked Gundham for rescuing you with a large pumpkin cake for hi and his Four Dark Devas Of Destruction. 

Seriously, how do these things happen to you?

“Hey Babe.” You said.

“Jujubee? Where- Oh my God HOW DID YOU GET UP THERE?” He looked up to see you stuck in a ceiling fan. He was baffled once again. 

“I don’t know. But can you help get me down?” you asked.

“Oh S/O, you never fail to both amaze and worry me at the same time..” Teruteru muttered as stacked some chairs on a desk so he get up to get you down.

“Darlin, what happened this time?” He said once you were down from the fan.

“I’m not sure actually. Chisa asked me to help clean the classroom, and the fan looked kind of dusty so I tried to clean it but somehow got stuck in it.” You said.

“How long has dis been goin’ on?” He questioned.

“I think I’ve had this since I was born. When I was much younger, about six, I was just walking to school when a deer came behind me, and lifted me up onto his head with his antlers, and ran through the forest whilst carrying me the whole way. I was carried off about 10 ten cities away from where I was, and finally the police found me and were very confused as well.” 

Teruteru was at a loss for words. How do these things even happen?

“I don’ get it. None of the things that happen to you should be possible.” He couldn’t believe half the things you’ve told him. You giggled and cupped his cheek. “Yeah, I don’t get it either, but I’ve just learned to have fun with it!” You kissed him, and he kissed back. 

The two of you walked out, hand in hand, with Teruteru keeping a close eye on you, and your surroundings, only to be utterly confused when a mini tornado appeared and carried you both off, him screaming in terror, along with shouting “KATY PERRY”, you “WHEEEEEEEEEE” ing, and everyone else who saw were running away, laughing their ass off, taking pictures, or trying to get you both down from mini tornados. 

Despite all the stupid stuff that happens, he loves you, even if he gets caught in your stupid scenarios with you.

[periminkle]

Orphic | 04

After moving into your own place, it seems life is finally going your way; the path to independence leading you to a quaint suburban town where even the grass seems to grow a little greener. Although a shocking encounter leads you to believe that perhaps appearances can be quite deceiving.

pairing: hybrid!jk x reader (first person)

genre: hybrid au, angst, fluff

word count: 7.6k

rating: PG-15

warnings: swearing, descriptions of blood and cleaning wounds, mentions of cannibalism (o.o)

author’s note: mMMm setting deadlines is effective but exhausting, so the pacing of this might be a bit weird? also im def not late bc it’s still sunday in some timezones so ;))

→ previous | next

I stared intently at the grungy nick in the otherwise spotless wall, mind racing a mile a minute.

The better half of the last hour had been spent pacing back and forth, gaze unmoving from the unconscious man in fear of missing the twitch of a finger or the flutter of an eyelash. His complete stillness persuaded me to check on his pulse frequently, glad to feel the faint, yet steady, beat beneath layers of smooth skin.

When I received a second call from my cranky saviour to inform me that he was nearly here, I forcefully sat myself down and practiced that infamous square breathing that every zen yogi swore by. By the persistent bouncing of my knee, it was evident that the yogis had failed me.

Rain was pounding down in thick sheets onto the pavement outside and at this point I was convinced the world had it out for me, using every trick in the book to further complicate this surely doomed rescue mission. Nonetheless, I optimistically hoped that the incoming storm would soon subside.

My unfortunate lips dealt with the brunt of my merciless canines, rendering the skin raw by the time a distinctive series of raps against the sturdy door caught my attention. It was the very same pattern in which I’d regularly knock on the door to the cleaning storage, craving the company of someone other than the three musketeers I’d gotten to know better than my own blood.

Although I ordinarily would be enthusiastically welcomed and greeted with nothing less than a wide, heart-shaped grin, the circumstances now were undoubtedly exceptional. Thus, the crinkle between his brows and the disgruntled glare fixed on my sheepish smile were to be expected.

Needless to say, Hoseok was not impressed.

“What the hell?” the typically friendly janitor barked out, huffing out his frustration at having his slumber disturbed. “You do know that it’s almost two in the morning right? How did you even get in here? Why couldn’t this wait for tomorrow?”

His hair stuck up in a multitude of different directions, evidently having rolled out of bed, slipped on a jacket and came to my rescue. The wrinkled, blue horse character on his pajama set eased some of my nerves at the familiarity of its nose, in the shape of Hoseok’s smile that was, understandably, nowhere to be found with the current circumstances.

I gripped the distressed male by his lithe shoulders, imploring him to slow down. “I’m not coming in tomorrow. Listen, this is gonna sound absurd but—”

His eyes drifted past my smaller form and I firmly shook at his torso to prevent him from spotting the other man. “Hey! Eyes down here.” A hint of curiosity bled through his agitated exterior when he focused on my stern exterior once more. “You can’t freak out, okay?”

Hoseok shrugged his approval, murmuring, “Yeah, I get it, directly disobeying the head researchers is pretty satisfying and all, but did you really have to drag me into this? Especially when you know I start early on Saturdays?”

At the reminder of his strict schedule, I withered marginally as I originally hadn’t intended to involve him at all. A shameful appreciation began to eat away at my conscience, grateful for his presence in spite of my outrageous request. I wouldn’t know what to do if Hoseok hadn’t come through and in my eyes, he remained an angel who was too good to be true.

“I’m sorry, I promise this is really important.” I brought my arms back to my sides, glancing down at my feet in order to organize my swirling thoughts. “I wouldn’t call you if it wasn’t an emergency.”

What I didn’t notice while lost in my reverie was Hoseok’s rebellious stare, wandering over the injured man’s form. “What the fuck?” He gently shoved me aside, stumbling deeper into the laboratory. When he was planted by the stranger’s table, he repeated, “What the actual fuck?”

My head tipped back in exasperation, disappointed that not even my last minute backup strategy was going according to plan. “Hobi, please.”

I could practically envision the gears whirring in his head, a natural reaction considering the mutant in front of him. When he finally craned his neck back to me, he mumbled with wide eyes, “Say sike right now.”

“Stop talking for two seconds.” I groaned, marching up to position myself between the janitor and the table in an attempt to calm him down. Immediately upon noticing his trembling digits, I reached out to clasp them within my own quivering hands. “Listen, this experiment they’re conducting? From what I know, it’s all some screwed up excuse to inject animalistic characteristics of their choosing into humans. And their track records point to a lot of predator species.”

“Predators? Wha—why would they even want to create a predator-human hybrid?” Hoseok took a tiny step back and out of the fear that he would flee, I fiercely clamped down onto our conjoined limbs.

“I don’t know yet,” I faltered. “But, honestly, I couldn’t care less because of how unethical they are in their approach to this project.” At his puzzled expression I somberly gestured to the unmoving lump in the corner, willing myself to postpone any tears for a safer location.

Hoseok must have connected the dots at the midnight black shade of fur peeking out underneath the fabric matching the colour of the hybrid’s ears and tail, as his stare hardened and his breathing began to even out from the rapid pace it was at before. “I’ll need more details later on, but let’s get him out of here first.”

At his command, I retracted from Hoseok's hold, scoping out the rather barren area for something other than the masses of files and papers strewn about. “You think we can carry him together?”

Simply comparing the difference in size between the stranger and Hoseok, there was no doubt the copious, hulking mass of muscle outweighed my friend’s slimmer figure. Our combined strength would have to somehow prove formidable against his bulky body.

Hoseok’s grimace spoke volumes about his faith in that idea, although there wasn’t much of a choice considering the alarming time crunch and our limited accessibility to other parts of the laboratory. Due to my blind confidence in the ostensibly foolproof scheme I constructed, the only cameras shifted were directly located in the path from the front entrance to the changing room to the upstairs lab.  

Oh, how I was regretting that naivety now.

Using an abandoned stretch of fabric that had been stuffed into one of the drawers I rummaged through earlier, I covered his immobile body with the thin cover to provide some decency and act as a layer of defence against the torrents outside.

While Hoseok stood directly behind his head, leaning forward to loop his arms underneath the hybrid’s triceps and around his chest, I grabbed each of his ankles, cradling them to my abdomen. Even with our best efforts to avoid any of his wounds, there was no way to avert the countless scratches and bruises that littered every inch of visible skin. We counted on the sanguine belief that he wasn’t conscious enough to feel any of it, reluctant to use any tranquilizers when we weren't aware of how much juice they’d already injected him with.

“On the count of three?” Hoseok asked.

With a nod, I tightened my hold and widened my stance. “One, two,” after taking a generous inhale, I heaved, “three!”

The two of us managed to maneuver the stranger down the length of the dingy hall before we were forced to gently place him onto the ground, desperate to grant our aching muscles the break they demanded. Currently, construction was being done on the elevator, which meant that the flight of stairs was the next obstacle to be tackled.

I lost the brief, but fierce, battle of rock-paper-scissors and endured the frightening prospect of marching down the stairs backwards—in the dark. All because Hoseok was unwilling to sacrifice the slightest bit of his comfort for the both of us to step sideways.

It was safe to say the stairs themselves took ten minutes to clear.

On the first floor, we were able to cross over to the main entrance in a breeze thanks to the spacious nature of the lobby. After scurrying to Hoseok’s car and laying the hybrid in the back seat, I returned to the lab to dutifully lock up the front door and jogged back to the vehicle.

Hoseok sent me a befuddled brow lift from the front seat when instead of the passenger’s side, I hesitantly stood a stride away from the driver’s door. “He’s fine, hurry up already so we can get out of here.” He motioned to the space beside him with the flick of his chin, his bed head dancing along with the movement. “It wouldn’t look too great if anyone caught us right now, especially with the man-cat knocked out cold in the back. Plus, the lab just radiates spooky vibes at night, look at my goosebumps!”

“Okay, okay, give me a second,” I grunted, opening the door to the back seat as I bowed inside to avoid a painful meeting with the roof of the vehicle. While gripping the back of the stranger’s skull with one hand and his upper back with the other, I lifted his torso and slipped inside. Tenderly, I placed his head on my lap.

“What are you doing?” Hoseok stared at me through the mirror, evidently unnerved by my proximity to the man. “He could literally wake up at any minute and there goes your throat!”

“Or he could get juggled around from your shitty driving and open his injuries again,” I countered, “which I think is a lot more likely, no?”

He scoffed, taking full offence to my jest. “Never mind. I hope he throws you out the damn window for calling my driving anything less than spectacular.”

The rush of excess blood coursing through my veins as a result of my overactive heart pounded in my head, nearly loud enough to block out the boisterous revving of the engine echoing throughout the empty lot. Tires squeaked against the pavement, jolting the hunk of metal into action as we sped away.

“Where were you thinking of leaving him?” he asked, taking a breath before mumbling, “that is, if you thought about this at all.”

“Hobi!” My jaw dropped dramatically at his not so subtle jab, shaking my head as I commented, “You’ve been hanging around Yoongi too much lately. I mean, all this sass couldn’t have come from nowhere.”

He slowed down behind the only other car in sight, flicking on his signal to turn. “Don’t change the subject.”

“I’m not, I was just commenting on your drastic change in behaviour,” I rebutted, crossing my arms across my chest at his determination to aggravate me tonight. “For your information, I actually planned this out for weeks; who do you think got the key card to the upstairs lab, the keys to the building itself, moved all the cameras—

Despite the leather seat between us, I knew he was sporting a sly smirk, for his conceit was bleeding through his supercilious tone. “And who begged me for help halfway through this ingenious plan?”

My jaw clenched shut, astounded at his cheeky retorts. At first, I was unsure of how the relationship between the jovial custodian and the chilly facade that Yoongi donned among strangers would progress, but judging by the sheer number of occasions in which I’d walked into a room with the two chatting away—gummy smiles all around, it seemed to be advancing better than expected.

“Whatever, you came anyway.” I sank back into my seat, careful not to disturb the comatose man peacefully resting on my thighs. Hopefully he was narcotized enough to remain oblivious to the various disturbances around him and would only rouse when the sun made an appearance.

Hoseok blithely sneered, pressing harder on the pedal as he spun the steering wheel to the right. “Yeah, well it’s kind of hard not to when you claim that Hyunho’s going to sue your ass for thousands of dollars.”

“And was I wrong?” I recalled our earlier conversation, where I hadn’t yet mustered up the courage, much less the patience, to confess to the details of my crimes. In a panicked state, I simply presented the consequences which would follow Hoseok’s absence—Hyunho’s wrath.

“No, now you’re just gonna get your ass handed to you by Namjoon and Yoongi,” he countered. “But I guess you’ll save some money while you’re at it.”

Merely the thought of their reactions to my late night escapade made me want to shrivel up in a ball. “Who said I’m going to tell them?”

“You’re not telling them?” The car slowed as he gradually came to a graceful stop behind a red light, turning his torso to face me with the help of his hand on the central console. “You know better than to release the man-cat, he’ll just get caught again.”

Rolling my eyes like a petulant child being scolded, I muttered, “I’m not releasing him.”

“But you can’t deal with him on your own either!” he snapped, the lack of sleep shortening his tolerance. After a pause to regain his senses, Hoseok rapidly shook his head and twisted back to focus on the empty roads ahead.

"Listen," I gritted out between my teeth, my own temper flaring. “I think you’re forgetting that I was well aware of the fact that I would be housing some kind of animal for a while, just didn’t know he would be this big.”

“Or this dangerous? This costly?” His firm grip on the wheel tightened, knuckles turning white as his emotions boiled over. "You’re not prepared to deal with him, I'll just take him back to my place."

A puff of air escaped my throat at his ridiculous solution, stating, "You live with your sister. There's no way she won't find out."

"Like you're any better off," he quipped, staring me down through the rearview mirror. "You live alone. If he were to do anything to you, we’d be none the wiser about it."

"Well, we can't risk anyone discovering his existence. There's no other way.” By watching the stranger’s chest rise and fall with each elongated breath, I was able to simultaneously avoid Hoseok’s prying eyes and collect my own thoughts.

While impatiently waiting for his arrival back at the lab, my mind had trudged through copious possibilities, overwhelmed with the pressure to choose the right one. Eventually, I came to the disconcerting conclusion that, be that as it may, the most secure option remained to bring him back to my place.

I reassured, "Don’t worry, I cleared out my bedroom so that there’s nothing in there that could potentially be used as a weapon. We'll secure him down, lock the door, and I'll camp out in the living room."

"Y/N, we don't have any clue what this guy is capable of,” Hoseok stressed, worry colouring his voice as he sharply gesticulated with his free hand. “Hell, look at him! He has cat ears, Y/N, and do not get me started on his tail.”

I stole a glance at the accused appendage in bewilderment, unsure of why that aspect was at the forefront of Hoseok’s concerns regarding the mutant boy. “What’s wrong with his tail?”

“My point is,” he accentuates, ���we have no idea what we’re dealing with here. What if he has some kind of monstrous super strength and his diet consists of human flesh? He could probably rip right through any restraints and bam! That'll be the end of you."

I held my tongue at ridiculing his absurd speculations when some sort of man-cat hybrid was currently strewn across the back seat of Hoseok’s run-down Corolla; a dim display exposing the current, ungodly hour of the early morning.

“Do you have any better ideas?" Although my question was met with radio silence, we steadily continued on the potholed path headed away from my house. I spoke up again, "Where are you taking us?"

"We're going to Namjoon's place, and we're gonna think of a better alternative all together."

"Hoseok," I seethed, fists clenching next to my thigh. "He'll make us take him back. We're already too far in to go back now."

The car jerked violently due to the bumpy road and being suddenly reminded of the wounded boy, I shot out to grab at his thin waist in order to nail him to the seat. Despite my best efforts, crimson liquid soaked through the thin blanket and I cursed under my breath.

"I can't leave you there alone with him!"

"Please, we'll be careful." A beat passed as I greedily inhaled the fresh air flowing in through my open window,  gathering ideas to negotiate. "I'll stay awake the whole time and I'll text you every hour."

Regardless of my pleas, the car kept at its incessant pace to Namjoon's apartment. Sweat began to accumulate at my temples at the unsure fate of what censure awaited me. To distract my nerves, I gripped the fabric that covered the man’s body, tugging it over his shoulders to rest just below his chin while pressing a bunch into his side in an attempt to stop the bleeding.

Past the low hum of the vehicle, a gentle utterance met my ears. I lifted my head to inquire whether the sound was merely a figment of my fatigued imagination when Hoseok repeated, "Every half hour."

My eyes widened, darting to examine his stoic expression from the rearview mirror. "Yes! Yes, yes of course. I can even do every ten minutes if that’s what you want." I shrugged my shoulders, pointing out, "I'll be up all night anyway."

"No, I'm good. Unlike some of us, I don't deserve to be punished for my crimes and would like to salvage the little sleep I can get," he declared as he performed a U-turn at a wide intersection.

My grin expanded exponentially at the change in direction. "Suit yourself."

I allowed my thoughts to clear, tracing a clear droplet on the window as it raced to engulf another, merging into one, larger globule that ran down the smooth expanse until it was out of sight. Unknowingly, I mindlessly carded my fingers through the stranger’s dampened strands; more so for my own comfort than for anyone else.

Before I knew it, we’d arrived at my quaint cottage and with the addition of another individual residing under its roof, the place seemed tinier than ever. Hoseok and I shuttled him over to my bedroom as gracefully as we possibly could, aiming to avoid whacking into any obstacles along the way.

Other than his lengthy legs knocking into two door frames, we were clear.

The second his back met the rigid mattress, we collectively released a weighty exhalation from the excessive exertion that strained both our physical and mental states. Although the chances of the stranger waking up now were low, seeing as he was out like a light throughout the whole journey, I hurried to collect the sturdy ropes that I purchased in advance.

“Ooh, you’re into some kinky shit, huh Y/N?” Hoseok quipped, taking the material from my hands.

My eyes rolled back at his stupid antics, glaring at the pleased crinkles forming next to his drooping eyes. “Ha ha, very funny. Now help me tie him up, so I can kick you out of my house.”

“And what’re you gonna do to him when I leave?”

Snatching the rope that he stole from me, I shoved Hoseok to the side by pressing against his firm bicep—which definitely carried more than his fair share of the hybrid on the way here—and grumbled, “Guess If you want something done right, you gotta do it yourself.”

Hoseok burst into a short fit of contagious laughter, invoking a couple quiet giggles that I was unsuccessful in fighting down. As he raised the stranger’s arms to the bed frame, I looped the braided, nylon material snug around each of his wrists. Along the way I checked to ensure that the restraints weren’t too tight before moving onto his ankles to repeat the process. Luckily enough, his height stretched the entire length of my minuscule bed with his feet dangling off the ledge.

“Tell me you brought more tranquilizers in case?” Hoseok asked immediately upon securing the last knot. Throughout a tedious explanation on how foolishly lax I was behaving with the hybrid, he went back to inspect my handiwork, tugging the ends of the cords closer together into a grip that nearly cut off the hybrid’s blood flow.

Over his nagging, I sneaked a victorious grin as I displayed the syringes I’d nabbed from the lab. He spent a few more minutes fiddling with various safety measures consisting of the pepper spray he stealthily retrieved from my purse, the bedroom door’s lock and an air horn that he remarkably pulled out of his coat’s pocket. Although it was questionable if the blaring sound would awaken even my closest neighbours due to the sheer distance between our houses, I didn’t dare attempt after imagining old Sangmin marching over here on his rickety cane to bark my ears off.

Refusing to bother expending effort on pondering over the rationale behind Hoseok’s little magic trick, I blithely shooed him out before any more ridiculous objects could be plucked out of his jacket.

The last straw was his finger approaching the sensitive button on said air horn. Unwilling to face the consequences of his brash actions, I slammed the front door closed behind Hoseok, the space suddenly void of his rowdy antics. I wearily blinked the drowsiness out of my eyes, the stillness and tranquility of the early hours slowed my heart rate from the fast paced, action packed night.

My sock-clad feed padded their way back to the bedroom, snatching my phone out of my black hoodie to fiddle around with an app that I discovered upon moving out. In order to relay my continued existence to my family, I scheduled texts to be sent every week, which would prove useful at this time as well. Knowing my own forgetful nature, one update to Hoseok would slip my mind, and either four, furious men would burst through every available entrance or I would have the whole police force upon my front steps in minutes.

To prevent such a disastrous event from taking place, I tampered around with the settings and added the fretting male to the list.

I halted in my tracks when faced with the mundane sight of the four walls where I spent most of my sleeping hours, not a hair out of place other than the addition of the injured hybrid on my dirtied bed. The crimson stains jolted me into action, retrieving my brand new first-aid kit and finding it hilariously ironic that the dressings were going to be used on the very same criminal that broke in to steal such supplies.

In order to fight off any cold that could have possibly slithered its way past the weak barrier draped over his body, I peeled the flimsy, sodden cover off and replaced it with a puffy comforter. Traversing through the storm that continued to rage outside definitely put a strain on his already weakened state, and his pale countenance wasn't very reassuring.

I slid the blanket down to access the sullied wound at his rib cage and grabbed a couple pads of gauze to firmly press onto the area. Thankfully, some blood had already begun to coagulate around the edges, so I didn’t have to wait too long for the trickling stream to cease. With a clean towel, I wiped the surrounding skin to get a better look at what I was dealing with, grimacing at the bruises forming galaxies across the jagged edges of ripped skin.

He was in worse shape than either Hoseok or I could have predicted. At this realization, the fleeting worry that he might succumb to the severity of his wounds grew, festering a nasty doubt in my mind.

Deciding whether to clean the laceration commenced another strife within the whirlwind of emotions inside my head, but I poured a few drops of antiseptic onto a cotton ball anyway, fearful of infection. As I tried my best to carefully dab the soaked material across his wounds, I peered up at his face to search for signs of consciousness.

My eyes involuntarily softened at the small cuts littered across his neck, travelling past his jaw and over the slopes of his hollowed cheeks to his forehead, which was partially hidden under his dark locks. When the cotton was thoroughly besmirched with a blend of bright crimson and a muddy brown, I drenched another and advanced up to other regions after the more serious lesions were taken care of.

A closer look at his sinewy torso allowed me to examine the scars scattered all around, mostly clustered around his upper arms. Absentmindedly, I wondered whether their appearances were linked to the cruel methods of the laboratory. How had he gotten within their clutches in the first place? For how long was he suffering under the justification of being an experiment?

What were they trying to accomplish with him?

My mind raced with all the different possibilities of what could have brought the hybrid into this situation in the first place, and before I knew it, I was pushing back the disheveled strands on his forehead to clean the last of his cuts. There were definitely more on his dorsal side, but I wasn’t willing to undo his restraints and flip his hefty weight over on my own. I would either wait until he woke up or ask Hoseok to stop by again after his shift.

In my current position, I was close enough to feel his warm breath fanning across my skin, observe the tiny brown mole under his lip and how utterly breathtaking this man was underneath the cuts that marred his skin. He was undoubtedly attractive at first glance, although I wasn’t able to appreciate his masculine features while under the stress of saving him.

Once every laceration in my reach had been disinfected to the best of my limited abilities, I swiftly bandaged his side again and stuck Spider-man themed band aids onto the smaller cuts in memory of the Hello Kitty ones that decorated his body earlier. I settled back on the chair, admiring my handiwork and fighting back the looming threat of dormancy that approached with every elongated blink. My head leaned back as I crossed my arms, thinking that a little snooze never hurt anyone.

I was blind to the cocoa orbs drinking in the darkness.

The bright light streaming in through the numerous cracks between my blinds prodded my eyelids apart, pupils struggling to adjust past the groggy haze of an unexpected slumber. Rather than revelling in the bountiful energy supplied by a restorative nap, an obnoxious cramp in my neck made its presence known alongside the bleak, obstinate tingle of dormancy that lingered within every tightened tendon, pulsating throughout my entire body.

Although the pain gradually ebbed away after I rolled my head around in wide semicircles, I knew from experience that the ache of sleeping in an uncomfortable position would linger.

Gold streaks were painted on the hardwood floor as a result of the sun’s harsh rays, a stark contrast to the dusk of a few hours ago. As I began to fuzzily recollect the memories from yesterday, I spotted the growing number of discrepancies between the room I’d seen before I closed my eyes and now, from the open door to the ruffled sheets, devoid of any sign of life.  

Fortunately, I seemed to be in the same position, seated on the tough chair that I snoozed off in a few hours ago. However, I found it odd that it was particularly difficult to do much else than squirm around, and that was when I realized the problem lied in the nylon material tied around my wrists and ankles, binding me to the furniture.

A cold dread washed over me, much like a freezing bucket of ice being poured over my head. The hybrid escaped.

Well, at least he didn’t exact his fallacious revenge on my sleeping form.

“Awake?”

I squeaked at the whiplash that followed the movement of my head twisting a second too quickly, intent on identifying the furtive speaker. My eyes widened exponentially at locating the muscular hybrid, black ears twitching at my cry and tail swishing in curiosity. Being clad in only boxers, I shifted my gaze away out of instinct, a fiery blush overtaking my features despite having ogled the man’s ripped physique before.

It felt completely different when he was unconscious and my only intent was to treat his multitudinous wounds though.

He slowly blinked, clearly finding my astonishment puzzling with the bewilderment laced in his orbs. Waving a large palm in front of my face to get my attention on him, he calmly said, “No hurt.”

The tight rope that currently hindered my motion was definitely the same one that had been previously occupied with restraining the hybrid to the bed. Yet the very same male stood in front of me, free as a bird. “H-how did you get out?”

Instead of answering verbally, he extended his defined arms out to the side, imitating the position he was tied up in, then robustly swinging both limbs towards one another. So he broke through those thick, durable ropes with sheer strength and willpower. Comforting.

The tranquilizers laid scattered across the floor, much too far to even consider reaching them.

“Where’s your blanket?” I questioned, suppressing the tremor in my voice as I found it outrageous that my throat was still intact at this point. There was no guarantee that he wasn’t harbouring any motives to rid the world of my presence, but the fact that he wasn’t actively making any moves to rip my heart out was a good sign.

The mop of dark chestnut swayed along in the same direction that he tilted his head over to; a habit revealing an emotion that I couldn’t place on the stranger. “Warm. No like.”

His broken English revived a flurry of trepidation. I recalled the night of the break-in, the terror and hysteria that I’d buried away under the incorrect pretense that a burglar never hits the same house twice.

I didn’t know if that sentiment applied to kidnapping the criminal and using your place as his hideout, as well.

As I noisily gulped, I felt his stare dart to my esophagus and in a wild panic, my wide eyes met the doe-like curve of his own. The hybrid edged closer to my trembling form before treading past me, out of sight. I closed my eyes in preparation.

This is it. Goodbye world, it was pretty shit while it lasted.

I heard the rustling of fabric behind me and silently applauded the man for thinking of a quick and easy suffocation to reduce the amount of clean up afterwards.

His bare feet slapped against the floor, trekking over to my front again. When a couple seconds passed and none of my airways were blocked nor was there any piercing pain to be felt, I cautiously cracked an eye open to see the stranger standing there, the puffy blanket from before wrapped around his broad shoulders.

“Good now?” he inquired with a bunny-like smile.

My jaw dropped slightly as I nodded, attempting to formulate a sentence but coming up empty. The stark contrast between the brawn enveloping his body and his innocent features threw me in for a loop. This must have been part of his grand scheme to ruthlessly murder me—lulling me into a false sense of security before executing me on the spot.

Outwardly, the hybrid appeared to possess more human features than his animal counterpart, leading me to wonder which instincts ruled over the other. Was he more level-headed and rational or was he unable to suppress his bestial instincts? Did he get sudden, violent mood swings or go on occasional, bloodthirsty rampages?

The lack of knowledge I had regarding the man, who had somehow gained the upper hand through his brute strength, was worrying. A tinge of regret for not skimming through a few files on said hybrid before Hoseok’s arrival made me softly curse under my breath.

As I shifted in place, I was reminded of my own predicament. “So, uh, any chance you’ll let me go?”

With his broad grin still on full display, he made his refusal clear by shaking his head back and forth. It was worth a try. “Not fair. I tied, now you tied.”

His childish logic caught me off guard and a bark of laughter shook my stiff shoulders, marginally relaxing at the prospect that he might postpone the bloodshed for a later time. The mystery laid in how he could distinguish my harmless intentions from the head researchers’ diabolical ones. Maybe it was the lab coat?

I made a mental note to never wear my own lab coat in front of him.

A grumble snapped me out of my reverie. I observed the stranger’s startled features as he glanced down at his abdomen, then, unabashedly, back up to my face. Recalling his screams of horror back at the lab, the barbaric treatment he received there was indisputable and based on his raging stomach, I guessed that it had been a while since he’d eaten anything of substance.

Of all times, Hoseok’s ridiculous words of the hybrid’s diet consisting of human grade meat played back through my brain and jitters erupted over my limbs, wanting to please the man before he was picking his teeth with my freshly cleaned bones.

“Hungry?” I prodded, pushing other priorities to the side in favour of feeding the rumbling beast.

His dark orbs immediately lit up with pure, unadulterated glee. The hybrid gracefully tied the ends of the fabric around his neck like a cape and rounded closer to me with mirth written across every crease on his countenance.

Unsure if his giddiness was attributed to the assumption that I was offering up the meat lining my organs, I squirmed in protest, attempting to cause a ruckus in order to spur his excitement towards another source of protein in the fridge.

Not having much choice in the matter with my limited range of motion, I watched in worry as he scurried out of sight again. “Hey, let’s not get ahead of ourselves here and—”

Despite being prepared for his unpredictable nature, a yelp flew past my lips when I was effortlessly lifted into the air, chair and all. His forearms caged my thighs as he gripped the bottom of the seat, hot pants of air blowing onto the back of my neck from his position.

His elation was practically tangible as he flew past the open doorway and sped off through the foyer. He must have ventured deeper into the house while I was blissfully unaware, since his strides towards the kitchen were filled with nothing but confidence in every step.

Hastily, I spat out, “I’m not that delicious, trust me! My budget’s been pretty strict this month, so I’ve just been eating junk, and I don’t imagine that’ll taste very go—”

The force holding me upright loosened when we reached the fridge, permitting my feet to find the floor. “Dee-lee-shiz?” He tried to imitate, turning to point straight at me.

“No! No, no, not delicious.” I corrected, violently shaking my head.

His outstretched arm retracted to his side, staring like a hawk at my chin tipping towards the metal cooling box behind him, and I repeated, “Delicious.”

As he flung the door to the refrigerator open, nearly ripping it right off its hinges, he yelled, “Dee-lee-shiz!”

Utter fascination at the chilled temperature and the rather meager array of food etched onto his features, sending relief through my veins. I encouraged him to ravage the tenuous stock of food while simultaneously rejoicing at successfully having deterred him from eating me alive.

Packs of eggs, blueberries, condiments, and essentially anything within his reach was hauled out, forming a growing heap on the countertop. When a zucchini found its way into his grasp, he took one puzzled look before chomping down on one end. I wasn’t too sure how raw zucchini would taste when eaten as though it were a cucumber, but he seemed pleased enough to take another bite that resounded throughout the space with a loud crunch.

I reclined back into the stiff chair, content on observing the ravenous hybrid empty my fridge and taking an occasional nibble on snacks that piqued his interest. Although, his grab at the bundle of raw chicken was when I decided to voice my concerns. “Ah, that has to be cooked!” At another tilt of his head, I explained, “You could get sick if you don’t cook it.”

By his furrowed brows, I deduced the concept flew over his head, but he threw the package onto my lap anyway and peered down expectantly. “Cook.”

“You tied me up, remember? I need some mobility to cook.” I tugged at my subdued arms to demonstrate my current inaptitude.

He hummed in thought, enveloping his lower lip between his lengthy canines as he weighed the pros and cons of being able to consume the meat by setting me loose. Finally, after clearly expressing how torn he was between his hunger and his teasing, it seemed that he’d come to a conclusion when he latched onto my left forearm.

Just as I was about to jib that I was no longer on the menu, a searing pain ripped across my wrist. I hissed through my teeth with my fists clenched as I teared my tender arm out of his grip, protectively cradling the limb to my chest.

He flinched away from the sound, taking a step away from my defensive form. At the sight of my disgruntled frown, he withered into himself, chin to his chest while I examined my sore wrist, whimpering at the edges of the flaming red, torn skin. I was a second away from viciously reprimanding him for the bruise that was more than likely to form by tomorrow, but one look into his guilty, fearful eyes made me pause.

With his strength, there wasn’t a doubt in my mind that he possessed the ability to do much worse, which didn’t seem to be his intent from all the fretting—ears tucked into the crown of his head and tail hanging low. As he seemed to be repenting without a chiding needed on my end, I redirected to a softer approach. “It’s fine, just be more gentle next time, okay?”

“Mm,” he complied weakly, his prior enthusiasm having substantially deflated. Before I could dismiss the topic and entice him with more food, he knelt down to my ankles, gripping the rope with both hands this time as he effortlessly tore the material apart, careful not to graze my legs in the process.

A shiver crawled down my spine at the display of power, mentally noting that there was probably enough strength in his fingers to flick my stunned form across the room; yet the man proved his duality by proceeding to grab one loose end of his makeshift cape and gently tie it around my unscathed wrist. “No run.”

Surprisingly enough, I hadn’t made it a break for it as soon as I was liberated. Although I sustained minimal injuries, he expressed his remorse and made no moves to consume my flesh, which was another good sign. As more time passed, he was revealing to be more and more of a passionate bunny stuck in a wrestler’s body.

After all, I hadn’t gone through all the trouble of kidnapping him just to sprint at the slightest sign of trouble. I confirmed, “No run.”

Some of his original ardour reappeared at my acknowledgement, along with a faint giggle that evoked a tiny smile on my own face. I figured that with his minimal experience revolving around homemade dishes, simply slapping on some salt and pepper to flavour the meat with a side of boiled vegetables would suffice. Thus, I took the package from my lap and got to work.

Cooking with another, rather useless, individual essentially attached at the hip was difficult, to say the least. In the beginning, the man fired question after question, curious about every ingredient and spice going into the dish, but after realizing that he lacked the correct vocabulary to obtain the information he sought, he became a silent observer.

Basically, he followed me around like a lapdog while munching on another zucchini to occupy his restless hands.

After pulling him around left and right, occasionally giving a soft tug on the blanket when he would unintentionally zone out, I finally threw all the components into a single pan, deciding to serve a simple stir-fry. With only the expanse of the puffy fabric between us, I was constantly elbowing the hybrid while mixing the ingredients together, which I considered a redeeming form of payback for his carelessness with my arm.

While the mouth-watering scent of lunch wafted around, he extended the wrist connected to mine, sidestepping over to the island to fish for a bag of baby carrots before coming to stand next to me by the stove. Spotting my stare, he flashed another blinding grin and I couldn’t help but imagine long, bunny ears extending off the top of his head, his slender tail replaced with a fluffier ball of fur at the back. That seemed to better suit his ardent personality.

The chicken gradually changed colour as the exterior of the vegetables softened, and I brought the meal along with the chair by the fridge over to my tiny two-person table, prompting him to take a seat in front of the steaming plate. I expected him to ravenously dig in and devour every crumb, yet he refused to move a muscle, staring out the glass doors to the backyard and into the forest instead.

“I hurt.” He stumbled over his words, somberly bringing his gaze to my cocked brow. “No mean to hurt.”

Thinking back to the scuffle that seemed eons away at this point, I flashed a reassuring smile his way, explaining, “I get it, you were injured. Um, I was kind of mad at first because you broke my door and everything,” I offhandedly gestured towards the broken contraption, “but I forgive you.”

“No.” He clenched his jaw, analyzing the surface of the table as if the words he was searching for were etched on the surface. “Now. Sorry now, too.” To drive his point home, he delicately grabbed the arm not wrapped in the blanket, streaks of red decorating my wrist like a tight bracelet.

I hummed my understanding. “Ah, I told you it’s fine already,” I reassured, patting his hand.

Content at my acceptance of his makeshift apology, he began to dig into the chicken. His nose twitched at the unfamiliar taste, but he made no complaints. Anything was better than nothing, in the end.

I let him enjoy his food for a bit before asking, “Did you have a name? Something like J3?”

His eyes went back to scanning the outdoors, the sound of his chomping coming to an abrupt halt when he spotted a sad lump on the porch.

“Bud?” he inquired, the light glimmering in his irises.

The nickname stumped me, as I had difficulty imagining Hyunho or Minzy affectionately calling their experiment ‘bud’. “What are you talking about? Is that your name?”

His finger poked out to the cylindrical pile of tuna outside, then back to himself, “Bud.”

Befuddled now more than ever, I tried to laugh it off and nodded my head towards the plate again, silently advising him to continue eating.

Unfortunately, he didn’t seem too keen on evading the topic, whimpering in frustration at either my lack of understanding or his incapability of properly communicating due to the language barrier. His unending appetite was going to be put on hold for this. As he stood up, the chair behind him screeched, and he clutched on to the blanket, pulling me towards the back door.

Refusing to allow history to repeat itself, I rushed ahead to slide the hairband off and pushed the door open, allowing him to slip through. I figured that when the man drifted off to sleep tonight, I could replace the rapidly decaying tuna in hopes that my kitty would visit again.

While I was lost in thought, he undid the knot connecting the two of us and sprinted into the forest.

His back disappeared within the thickets fencing the towering maple trees and I froze in place, my jaw going slack in an ugly mixture of bafflement and betrayal, believing that he had simply taken advantage of my hospitality then ran off. Although, all attempts at making sense of the hybrid’s actions were cut short when familiar noises of horrifying, crackling sounds met my ears, causing the hairs on the back of my neck to stand on end.

When the underbrush twitched, leaves fluttering from the movement of an animal hidden within their cover, a sinking feeling entered my chest. And that was the moment I met the vibrant, emerald eyes that had dug their own space within my heart.

[lannister-slings-and-arrows]

Pedro's character reactions to an unexpected kiss on the cheek from the girl he's been trying to woo forever but continuously got rejected by?

Din is a little flustered when after he hands you a cloth wrapped loaf of that sweet bread you had spend a hour talking about last week you lean over and kiss the side of his helmet. He had given up trying to get your attention after you continuously ignored his offers to spar. You had made it pretty clear to him that you just wanted to be friends- hadn’t you?

Whiskey has been trying very loudly, very obviously, very obnoxiously to get into your pants since Tequila had introduced you a month ago. Honestly, under any other circumstance you would have given in already, the man was exactly your type and office gossip said that that lariat wasn’t the only thing he knew how to handle. But you were new to your supervisory position and you had a team of three young female agents working under you to whom you were determined to give a good example. And that meant no giving in to that cowboy and his cheesy pick up lines and dazzling smile. Until one of your girls got herself into some trouble on a mission with Whiskey and Tequila and instead of charging in to fix it, he grabbed the back of Tequila's collar and stood off to the side to let her handle it herself. She emerged from the fight with only some cuts and bruises and a cracked rib, but smarter for it and with the kind of confidence in her abilities that only comes from hands on experience. So you cornered him as the three of them stepped out of the plane and kissed him. You figured he deserved some kind of reward for his help. What you were not expecting (but what you really should have been, this whole situation was on you and your own stupidity) was for Whiskey to blink down at you stupidly and watch as you smiled politely at the other senior agent and start to walk away. What you also did not expect was to hear a ‘swish, whooshing” sound and for your arms to suddenly be pinned to your sides. You looked down to see a lariat wrapped snugly around your middle and you sighed and rolled your eyes. You were tugged gently backwards and rather than fall on your ass and be dragged- which you were sure he would do- you complied, and found yourself face to face with a grinning cowboy. “There now, little lady, that wasn’t so difficult was it?” You tried, and failed, to put your hands on your hips and heard snickers from behind you. “I hope that wasn’t the last of that sugar you were planning on giving out, honey, or I’m going to be mighty disappointed.” You sigh, unable to resist smiling back at the grinning idiot in front of you. “Let me go and I’ll see what I can do Jack” you bargain. He shakes his head and tips his hat back with his free hand. “Now, sugar, a this cowboy knows not to let his catch go without some much stronger assurances”. You step closer to him, you can feel the heat he radiates and smell his leather, spicy scent. He grabs the rope around your middle and hauls you against him, wrapping his arms around you, holding you up right. “I knew you couldn’t resist me forever baby.” You know you should shove him away, make him wait longer for a smart remark like that but frankly, this has gone on long enough and you don’t want to. You allow him to pull you up on your toes so he can bend down and kiss you properly. You’ll get him back some other way soon. 

Oberyn grabs your wrist as you turn to walk away and drags you back to his side and into his lap. “Now was that so difficult” he asks, a slow and sultry smile on his lips. You blush and try to look away but a long and elegant finger turns your face back to his, and once your eyes meet his eyes you can’t look away- they’re as mesmerizing as the snake’s he takes his name from. “It wouldn’t be very chivalrous of me to not return the favor, and not only that,” he pauses, his face a breath away from your own now. “Since I have looked forward to this for so very long, I wouldn’t deny myself the pleasure for all the gold in Casterley Rock.” He kisses your cheek gently, first one, and then the other. His lips are soft, full, and you feel only a hint of a scratch from his beard. Its tantalizing and you want more, that feeling is just this shy of not enough, and he pulls away with a smile. You frown at him and he laughs, hugging you closer to his body and leaning back in to press feather light kisses on your chin, your forehead, and then the tip of your nose. He then releases you, puts you gently off his lap and walks away with a bow. “I hope you have a pleasant evening, my lady.”

Ezra smiles softy at you and just stares. For a full minute he says nothing, and while you’re sure he has been quiet for longer since you made his acquaintance two months ago you can’t think of quite such a loaded silence as this. You were about to break the quiet with a rough joke or something when he placed his hand on your arm and squeezed gently. You looked up to find him smiling brightly down at you and you resisted the urge to sigh in relief, instead choosing to grin back. Maybe a quiet Ezra wasn’t always an indicator of trouble. 

Catfish blushes. Like the kind of blush that you thought only happened in Loony Tunes cartoons. His whole face turns red underneath the patchy scruff that had scratched your lips. The friends he had introduced you to (you were positive those were not their real names- Pope you might accept but no one would actually name a kid Iron Head) had been teasing him about his homebody ways since his daughter had been born and you could see it was bothering him. You kind of thought they were being jerks so you did the first thing that you could think of to make them stop. The silence that followed your kiss and “hey babe, I’m gonna go grab a beer you want something?” was almost too comical for you to keep a straight face. Fish managed a quiet “no thanks” and touched your arm briefly before you made your way to the kitchen. All was quiet and then you heard a muttered remark from the curly haired guy- promting hard laughter from the group of men. They were poking fun at Fish again. Jesus you can’t win with buttheads like this can you, you thought, rolling your eyes and returning to your seat on the arm of Catfish’s chair.

Tovar pretends to be annoyed. As usual. He “harumphs” and glowers at the trees surrounding you and you laugh and walk ahead of him.

Max- you know when a dog is begging to go play outside and is just sitting there staring at you and you finally turn your phone off and like, he just lights up and looks at you like yes? Yes? Finally?? And is just so sunshine and thrilled? That’s Max. It’s almost annoying enough to make you regret it, which you tell him, which only makes him laugh and continue to be disgustingly positive about it. (Note, this is you don’t know he’s a vampire Max. The scenario changes completely if you’re in the know.)

Javier is frustrated. After weeks of trying to get into your pants, you decide now, of all times, while you both are being SHOT AT is the perfect time to distract him with this? You grin, lean over and kiss his now stubbly cheek before standing and laying down covering fire for Steve and Carrillo as they go charging through the narrow room. And all he can do is just sit there. Surprised and frustrated. Women.

Maxwell had been trying to get your attention since he saw you in the elevator two months ago. Every day it was expensive gift after expensive gift, nothing had worked and he was getting more and more frustrated. Was that diamond tennis bracelet not nice enough? Did you not like the show he’d managed to get those tickets to? What was he doing wrong!? So when you finally looked up at him with a smile and stood on your toes to kiss his cheek when he handed you a cup of coffee (just the way you liked it- he had been practically stalking you for two months, it did have its advantages) that one time the whole office had to stay a few hours longer than normal he was a little confused. After all this time and effort all he really had to do was bring you coffee? Seriously?!

[mysingularitybts]

Glances a Jung Hoseok One-Shot

Pairing: Jung Hoseok x famous!reader

Genre: romance, 

Warnings: none 

Here I was at another big fancy event. Don't get me wrong it was an amazing opportunity and it showed how far I had come in my career. I was honored to be invited to the Variety Hitmakers Brunch, yet I detested how snotty everyone here was.

All award shows of sorts were always the same thing, people bragging about what they won. It seems they forget the reason we are here is to celebrate the music that has the power to change many people's lives. Even the dirtiest songs have the power to help a person. Music can lift people's moods, give them closure, become their relationship songs, give warmth to a romantic moment. Music is always in our lives one way or another making every moment better. It's why it's so crucial in moviemaking. It sets the mood and without it, everything would be much less anticlimactic and boring.

Back to the point at hand, it's not so much the artists who I frown upon, it's the people behind them. Managers and CEO's, they suck the life out of events treating it like a business (which it is for them). Their greedy eyes looking for the next collaboration, for the next hit. They whisper in your ears making you think it's your idea, but it's not. It's all part of their master plan to make more money, to make you do most of the work. Having barely any regard for your health or wants or needs.

I don't want to say it's like I describe all the time because it's not, but a lot of them are like that. I'm one of the lucky few who got a good team behind them. It was no easy task though I failed many times and people failed me, somehow, I managed to get through it. I had my family and friends to pick me up every time I fell and made a mistake. Eventually, I found my amazing manager Carly and she led me to my amazing record label.

It's been five years since I've been in the music industry officially. It all started when I was 16 and had a dream of becoming a successful singer. How naïve I was thinking it was just going to be me signing to my heart's content. HA! It was eventually, but first I had to learn to produce, to practice singing, and to practice dancing. I had to face failure every time my CEO said she didn't like my new song or theme. Having to start over again to come out with something that satisfied her. After finally coming out with an album I loved with all my heart and it being a success I also had to face a lot of hatred and as a 17-year-old girl, it hits you hard. Other than the hatred I also had to manage my personal life and learn to adapt to a new way of life.

It's all in the past now. I learned how to ignore the hate to my best ability. I learned to focus on the fans that loved my work. To hear them out and become even better. There were a lot of things that happened in between, but I like to think they don't matter anymore as long as I learned my lesson. Although my dream to become a singer was very different from what I imagined, I didn't regret it one bit. It led me to where I was right now receiving an award for artist of the year at the Vanity Hitmakers Brunch.

Walking around with Carly leading the way I saw a lot of my colleagues and friends. Depending on what they were doing whether that was being interviewed or simply talking amongst each other I'd wave hello or stop and talk to them. These award things could be reunions between friends since it was hard at times to meet up with everybody since we were all on tour or filming or in different parts of the globe. It was one of the reasons I still came to these events the other reason being the fans. I owed them my success so if seeing me in an award show made them happy then I would go. I would also fangirl over other artists. Can you blame me? I'm only a human that likes listening to people's music.

As I walked around, I saw Billie Eilish, an amazing artist I collaborated with a few months ago. I liked her since she also saw the truth behind this industry, we had an understanding about it and that made us bond. I could only wave since she was in a conversation with one of the organizers of the awards.

As I kept walking and looking around my eyes landed on seven gorgeous men. My jaw dropped not only because of their beauty but because of who they were. It was none other than BTS. My heart raced; I have been a fan of their music since practically the beginning. How did I not know they were going to be here? I've always wanted to meet them, but we never coincided on any past award shows because for some reason every time they went, I had something else going on. I hated myself for it.

With sweaty palms, I debated on going over to them. I mean they were probably busy talking to somebody else yet nobody was approaching them. They even seem bored. Why was that? They were an amazing band that everybody wanted to collaborate with or be seen with. It just didn't make sense. Maybe it was the language barrier? It could be since not many American artists knew Korean.

With that thought in mind, I hung my head in defeat since I didn't know Korean either. Disappointed I turned around to leave when I almost slapped myself across the face in realization. One of them knows English surely with his help you could get the point across that you were a huge fan and not only that, but this dumb bitch also knows Korean.

How could I forget I know a whole other language is beyond me, but it happened. Thank you Nari for teaching me. Nari is my best friend we have known each other since preschool and are still very close. Her parents moved to the United States from Korea when she was still just a baby.

While I was in school my parents often were not around much so the Seong family took care of me until they got off work. Thus, I learned the Korean language and a bit of its culture. Plus, I gained a whole other family who I love very much.

Shaking my thoughts away I began walking over to them. My hands trembling in excitement, my inner fangirl begging to come out. I kept her locked up though because I did not want to make a fool out of myself. As I got closer, I saw Jimin look my way from his spot on one of the sofas that were around the tents.

When I got to where they were, they all stopped talking between themselves and looked up at me. Eyes wide not knowing what to expect.

With a gulp, I bowed and with a trembling voice said in Korean, "Hello, my name is y/n and I am a huge fan of your work." I crossed my fingers hoping my Korean didn't fail me.

With anxiousness, I waited for their response. Suddenly it vanished as Jungkook smiled up at me, stood up and shook my hand.

"Hello y/n, I'm Jeon Jungkook I'm glad you enjoy our work." He said smiling brightly at me.

I almost fainted seeing as 1/7 of BTS was standing in front of me shaking my hand. I was never going to wash my hand again. Gathering my wits, I kept on smiling as the introductions kept going around.

Once all introductions were done, which I think weren't necessary, they made a space for me to sit with them.

"I got to say I didn't expect anybody here to speak our language," Yoongi said from his seat as he looked at me.

"Oh, I only know because of my best friend. She's also Korean and taught me everything I know," I explained, "If I say anything wrong, blame her," I finished joking.

"No, you are doing very well, your friend did a good job," Hoseok said from his spot beside me.

"I have to say I am also a big fan of your music," he then said abashedly.

"Really?!" I said surprised not expecting them to know much about my music.

"Yeah, he has followed your music for about two years now," Taehyung exclaimed as he shot Hoseok a teasing smile.

"He even has a collection of your albums," Jin blurted out trying to get the point across.

"Yah, stop it you are embarrassing me," Hoseok told them, trying to play it cool and hide his blushing face.

"There's nothing to be embarrassed about. It makes me so happy that you enjoy my music!" I honestly said holding my hands close to my heart.

It was one thing to meet your idols but for them to also know your music is another level. I felt proud of myself since I looked up to them and their work.

We sat in the middle of the tent talking to our heart's content for a while. I was glad I had the guts to talk to them seeing as they no longer looked so serious or bored. I guess they were just a little lonely and wanted some company. Talking to them felt easy. I thought it would be a bit more awkward, but I was proven wrong. They knew how to hold a conversation. We talked about everything from their upcoming music to my music, to the places we've traveled, and about the awards in itself. There was never a boring moment; they made everything entertaining or interesting.

It was when we were laughing loudly about something Jimin said that my manager came to tell me it was time to go find our seats since the ceremony would begin shortly. With a disappointed sigh, I went to stand up and say goodbye to BTS.

"Well, guys I guess this is goodbye," I started saying sadly, "It was great meeting you, I hope I get to see you again."

"I hope so too," Taehyung said enthusiastically, "I had a lot of fun talking to you."

I looked at them as I bid my farewells. When I got to Hoseok he looked as if he wanted to tell me something but couldn't bring himself to.  Yoongi, noticing his reaction, took matters into his own hands.

"Hey y/n, how about we take a picture to remember this day?" he asked, offering a smile.

"Let's do it!" I responded.

They all stood up and got into position. It was Jungkook, Jimin, Taehyung, Namjoon, me, Hoseok, Yoongi, and Jin. I felt as Namjoon wrapped an arm around my shoulders and Hoseok partially wrapped his arm around my waist not quite touching me. Something strange happened to me as I felt very aware of his body heat, touch, and the smell of his cologne.

Once the pictures were taken, I felt disappointed as he stepped away from me. Disregarding those thoughts, I shook my head and bid them goodbye once again. I couldn't believe I had met BTS wait until I told Nari. She is going to freak out and ask me all kinds of questions. I would be able to fangirl with her, but until then I'd have to hold it in.

The awards went, as usual, I cheered on my fellow friends and colleagues, yet I cheered a little louder for my new friends BTS, they truly deserved the award. As someone who has seen them from the beginning, I could say they worked very hard to get to where they are now and had been through some tough times. Not only did they manage to become successful in Korea, but they also paved the way for many Korean artists to get recognized in the United States.

Once the awards ended and all the photoshoots and speeches were done, I found myself walking to the back entrance of the building to get to the SUV waiting for me. My feet were killing me making my back hurt, the makeup on my face felt uncomfortable, and not to mention the dress I was wearing got scratchier the more I had it on.

Deep into my thoughts, I didn't hear a voice calling out to me until Carly nudged her elbow into my side. I looked at her questioningly and she pointed over to the man walking over to me his dimpled smile being a welcoming sight.

"Oh, sorry Namjoon I didn't hear you, what's up?" I spoke as I stopped walking waiting for him to catch up.

"Don't worry, it happens to all of us, I wanted to ask if you were going to the after-party?" he asked as he tilted his head in question. It was a cute sight not going to lie.

"No, I'm not a big fan of after-parties they get too wild," I explained.

"In that case, would you like to meet up with us in a few hours after we get out of here?" he eagerly asked "We are not big fans either of American after-parties. They get awkward for us because of the language barrier," he finished saying.

"I understand," I told him reassuringly, "Count me in."

"We'll stay at our hotel and celebrate there. I'll send you the address," he stated, giving me a smile, his eyes closing at the same time.

"I'll see you there!"

"One more thing!" He exclaimed, "Come in comfortable clothes it'll just be us hanging out, no need for fancy clothing," he then finished explaining seeing my confused face.

"Even better, this dress has been getting more uncomfortable the more I wear it," I said relieved that I wouldn't have to dress up again.

It was fun dressing up, but it got uncomfortable quickly.

"See you later?" Namjoon asked one more time as he started walking away.

"Definitely," I replied as I waved him goodbye.

As soon as I got to my apartment, I took a quick shower and changed into a pair of high waisted leggings and a cropped hoodie. I didn't do much with my makeup, just applied some tinted moisturizer, did my eyebrows, applied some mascara, and some lip balm. Trust me compared to what I was wearing earlier this was nothing. As I got ready Namjoon sent me a text with the address of the hotel and what time I should get there. Luckily the hotel wasn't that far, and I had about an hour to spare. So, I did the only reasonable thing. I took a nap. After my nap, I realized it was time to go.

When I arrived at the hotel, I quickly made my way up to the room Namjoon told me about. As I got closer to the door, I heard a lot of loud voices, yup, I was definitely in the right place.

I knocked on the door and waited for somebody to open it. I didn't have to wait long when Hoseok confusedly opened the door.

"Y/n?" he asked surprised.

"Yeah? Hi Hoseok," I greeted smiling up at him.

"I didn't know you were coming," he confessed, still looking confused.

"Oh, I invited her," Namjoon began saying, "I guess I forgot to tell you, Sorry Hobi."

"Yah Hoseok let her in already," Jin yelled from his place on the sofa.

Hurriedly Hoseok got out of the way and gestured me in. I walked inside and noticed they were all dressed comfortably too in Jeans and their signature Hoodies. As I looked around somebody ran up to me and engulfed me in a hug. When they stepped back, I realized it was Taehyung.

"Hi, Taehyung!" I greeted him.

"Y/n I'm so glad you're here!" he said excitedly, "I was getting bored with these people around." He then said seriously.

I started laughing when I heard a hurt "Hey!" from Jimin.

Unbeknownst to me, Taehyung was sending Hoseok a teasing smile as he glared at him not liking the proximity between us.

"What were you guys up to?" I asked curiously.

"Nothing much we were going to start a live soon," Jungkook answers as he set up a tripod in front of the sofa.

"Oh! In that case let me know so I can scooch over a corner while you talk to army," I told them kindly.

"Nonsense you get to be with us in the live," Jimin said from his place on the dining table the hotel offered.

"Are you sure?" I questioned with uncertainty, "I know you guys don't usually have guests in your lives."

BTS usually didn't do lives with other people. They did them mainly amongst themselves. I didn't know how army would take it if they had somebody else with them, especially a girl. They would certainly have something to say about it.

"We're sure. Don't worry, it'll be fun!" Hoseok said from behind me as he patted my shoulder.

As soon as the setup was done we all gathered around the sofa. Jungkook, Jimin, Namjoon, Jin, and Yoongi sat on the L shaped sofa while Taehyung, Hoseok, and I sat on the floor leaving me in between them.

Surprisingly the live went very smoothly and it was a lot of fun. I didn't see many hate comments just questioning ones as to why I was there. The guys introduced me as their new friend and as we went along the live there were opportunities for me to get to know them a bit better.

While I sat there, I felt as Hoseok's leg pressed against mine, making me feel flustered. Warmth spread through me the more the live went on. At some point he whispered something in my ear in a low voice that made me lose focus on what was happening around me. He was doing things to me I couldn't explain. I wonder if he also felt the same things I did. Towards the end of the live I couldn't focus anymore. The strange thing was that Taehyungs leg was also very close to mine and he even had his arm around me for some time, yet that did not bother me in any way.

When the live ended my thoughts were interrupted by Jimin giving out a yell as he opened a bottle of champagne. Deciding not to think of my bodies reaction to the rapper beside me I shook my head and accepted the glass Namjoon offered me.

I was glad I came to what I now call the BTS afterparty. The guys were amazing and came up with the weirdest games.

Throughout the night I couldn't help but sneak glances at Hoseok. My eyes always wondered to him without my consent and whenever he spoke my attention would instantly be on him. At one point when I turned to look at him, he was already staring at me very intensely. I tried to hold eye contact, his eyes were very dark and alluring causing me to get lost in them, feeling as if I had fallen into a dark abyss. There was so much emotion in his gaze, I got overwhelmed and looked away. I felt as a blush crept up my cheeks and as I looked back up again, he gave me a smirk.

Wasn't Hoseok supposed to be the sunshine of the group? This wasn't sunshine, sure it was fiery but it was also sinful and flirty and dark.

After a while and I decided I had enough to drink so I got up to leave. I wasn't drunk or tipsy but if I kept drinking, I would get there. I bid my farewells promising to see them again soon and left the room. As the doors to the elevator started to close a hand stopped them and a man came in.

Looking up at him I confusedly asked, "Hoseok?"

"Y/n wait," he said rushed.

"What is it?" I asked nervously.

It was only the two of us in the elevator and as I recalled all the glances and grins he gave me back in the room, I started growing nervous. I stuck my hands in the front pocket of my hoodie to try and hide their trembling.

He got very close to me, our chests almost touching. He leaned his face down towards mine. I felt his hands graze my cheeks with his breath mixing with mine. He got closer, his lips brushing on mine until he pulled away. I hadn't realized I had closed my eyes but as he grew the distance between us, I opened them in confusion, disappointment reflecting in them. I was breathless even though the kiss didn't happen and as I looked at him, he was the same way.

Hoseok still had his hands on my face and I felt as he grazed his thumb on my lips. For some reason, he also had a disappointed look on his face. I wonder why, he could have kissed me if he wanted, plus,  he was the one in control of the whole situation. He could have done anything and I wouldn't have protested.

"Let me take you out on a date first," he said, answering my silent question.

I could only nod but that was not enough for him.

He got closer again but this time it was to whisper in my ear, "I need to hear you say it."

His voice was low and raspy. I couldn't stop the goosebumps from arising on my skin.

"Y-Yes, I'd, um, love to go on a date with you," I felt like a schoolgirl as I stuttered.

I jumped as I felt the elevator ding signaling it had arrived at its destination. Somehow without me noticing he had stepped away taking his warmth with him and leaving me cold.

"I'll see you soon for our date, y/n," he then said cheerfully, his attitude changing completely from before.

"Bye Hoseok," I said perplexed at the sudden change.

I walked away from the elevator but turned to look back. There he was staring at me again as the door closed and just before they did, he sent me a wink as a seductive smile made its way to his lips.

A/N: I don't think I've ever written anything like this. So, if you guys enjoyed it please let me know and make sure to like and reblog to show your support.

Im still shocked at what I wrote. It honestly started as an innocent idea but towards the end something like happened. It's not smutty but like I tried to write a tension between them.

Did you feel it? Did it need more?

Please let me know!

See you guys later ;) 💜 x

-Nikki Marie

[amphtaminedreams]

Spring/Summer & Haute Couture Week 2021: Whoops, I’ve Missed a Loooot (Part 2)

Hey to anyone reading,

I’m so sorry for the gap between the last fashion week review post and this one! Argh. I had no idea I posted it as long ago as the beginning of March but I think we can all agree that lockdown has fucked with our perceptions of time completely. I wish I could say the delay in posting was as simple as me being busy but I’ve also started to reflect on whether or not I want to carry on this format of posts for the time being; on the scale of problems, this one is wayyy down there in the very lower quartile of the first world region, but my motivation to carry on this kind of content in the form of long-winded text posts is...meh...not so much there anymore. At first I was thinking the issue was that working on these was my last priority on my daily to-do lists but as I’ve got back into writing fiction, it’s kind of occurred to me that the fact I was putting these posts on my to-do lists in the first place along with things like doing the ironing and contacting student finance speaks volumes. When I’m back from work or winding down, opening up Tumblr and coming back to this draft isn’t something that I think of as a fun stress reliever in the way drafting stories is. It doesn’t feel like I’m using my imagination or my creativity or expressing myself in any way and it’s not much of an escape from day to day life in the way that writing dialogue or exploring characters is. Maybe it’s because I’ve done quite a few of these posts now but I just tend to feel like I’m repeating myself, you know kinda like when you’re writing an essay and trying to fill up a word count; of course there are collections that I do have a lot of opinions on but by and large, sometimes it boils down to THESE CLOTHES ARE JUST FUCKING PRETTY, OKAY?! There’s only so many things you can say about a tulle skirt or an exaggerated collar before you want to strangle yourself with said tulle. I used to think iF VoGUe RuNwaY wRitErs CaN dO iT WhAT's MY exCusE until I realised that 1). Vogue Runway writers actually get paid and 2). for the most part all they do is explain the designer's intentions behind the collections verbatim without giving a critical opinion anyway.

I think a lot of the pressure I feel to justify what are in reality quite simple observations and opinions goes back to some of the feelings I explained in my first ever fashion week review where people who know more about fashion and have a formal education in the subject tend to be kind of gatekeep-y and elitist. It can never be that you appreciate different things about a collection but rather than one of you has taste and the other doesn’t and if it wasn’t obvious, the taste level assigned to you by the powers that be tend to positively correlate with the amount of money you have available to spend on a degree that has a reputation for failing to provide a steady income, which for most makes it an unrealistic avenue to pursue. I know, I know, the pressure is totally self-inflicted and wholly imagined seeing as I have under 500 followers on here and those who do interact with these posts most likely do so for the pictures but I still feel it, and given that I’m going to have enough external pressure to write essays when I return to uni in September, why on earth am I wasting time putting it on myself? When just posting photosets of my favourite looks is not only actually enjoyable for me but is also what other people WANT to see too? Nobody wants to read a self-indulgent paragraph like this when they’re here for the clothes and to be honest, for the most part I don’t want to write them anyway unless it’s something I have strong feelings about or if a collection can only be properly appreciated with analysis. I think I’ve made pretty clear which designers I’m a fan of, do you really need to hear me raving about Gucci or Zimmerman or Miu Miu or Balenciaga again? Is there gonna be anything revolutionary in yet another rant about Maria Grazia? Course not. I mean, if you are reading, you might have to witness those things one last time because I do intend to finish off this season’s review in this format for consistency purposes and because I’ve already got all the notes now but on the whole, I doubt anyone will miss my rambles.

So, with all that in mind, I think after I finish my S/S21 posts I am gonna start just uploading these posts without the written part. I mean, for one, the simplicity of doing this means I’m much less likely to procrastinate making them which in turn means I’ll be able to get them out right after the shows as a kind of summary as opposed to months later when they’re no longer as relevant. This will also give me more time to work on the writing I actually enjoy. Right now I’m going through and editing my 17 year old self’s “grown-up” take on the Pretty Little Liars blackmail murder mystery style plot line which I wrote back when I was completely and utterly obsessed with the show and bitterly disappointed by the last couple of seasons. The writing is pretty mediocre and often hugely cringey to read back now but I am still a fan of the basic plot and I’m genuinely motivated to see if I can make it something actually worth reading, and to get onto that ASAP; this feels especially important right now given that the HBO version of the series’ apparent upcoming release has sent that ever-present writer’s fear of seeing-your-same-storyline-done-better-by-somebody-else-thus-forever-relegating-your-version-to-being-the-poor-imitation-so-you-gotta-get-there-first into overdrive (or maybe that’s just me and my neuroses). Again, it’s a totally unfounded fear based on the fact that the HBO show will probs get millions of viewers whilst I will be doing little more than shouting into the void but anybody who’s used Turnitin to submit an essay that ultimately counts for little more than like 1% of your grade or degree will know that no matter how irrelevant your work is, the concept of failing a plagiarism check, be it via a computer algorithm or one random stranger on the internet’s assessment, is enough to conjure visions of the 4 horsemen of the apocalypse galloping towards you screaming “START THE WHOLE THING AGAIN” before releasing a hoarde of 2015 Chanel vs. Walmart style comparison memes.

Now, speaking of Chanel, I should probably get back into the reviewing. 

So for the last time for a little while, here’s Christian Siriano:

Siriano’s designs are a great example of work I feel guilty enjoying. I know that when it comes to quality, the high fashion community have a lot of (negative) things to say and I really can’t speak to that because quite honestly, I know very little about textile manufacturing. Solely from my own point of view though, I do like his work a lot. I wouldn’t claim for a minute that he’s a pioneer in terms of his creations but I would 100% love to wear them and I DO hugely admire his commitment to putting women of all sizes on the runway and designing pieces that don’t simply cater to straight up and down types which is more than can be said for most brands. I get that his collections are pretty formulaic, taking what has worked for the likes of Chanel and Alessandra Rich, De La Renta and Carolina Herrera, Michael Kors too (who is kind of guilty of the same thing himself), but that’s not to say his work is bad. Let’s be real, we’ve been on this planet thousands of years, we’re all taking inspiration from someone, and maybe figures like Kors and Siriano could wait a *little* longer before taking said inspiration but their aim at the end of the day is to sell clothes, not break barriers, a task which although often left to the big name brands, they too often fail at. I’m not going to lie, I’m feeling this whimsical mid-century tea party vibe, it’s elegant and it’s cutesy and My Fair Lady-esque, and you bet your arse I would be absolutely thrilled to wear one of these looks on a summer red carpet. I just can’t say no to anything tulle-maybe it’s that I was on Toddlers & Tiaras in a past life or maybe it’s that I watched too many Barbie Princess films growing up, but I like pretty much everything going on here, especially Siriano is giving us matching fedoras too. Plus, can we take a moment to praise Siriano for his COVID relief efforts? Near the beginning of the pandemic, he turned his studio into a mask manufacturing factory in order to send them out as donations, and I think that is very cool.

Then there’s Christopher Kane who once again came through with the most insanely gorgeous prints:

I mean, paint splattering is hardly a new technique but I haven’t seen it done as a print so tastefully before-it eats the Moschino biro scribble print (which apparently was copied too speaking of the tendencies of designers to “borrow” inspiration) for breakfast. It’s shit because there weren’t many looks in this collection and they weren’t really shot in a way that does them any justice but I thought I’d include the few I saved.

Comme Des Garcons is a fave of the high fashion community and one I look forward to seeing at fashion week but can never quite get behind. I appreciate the what-the-fuckery of it all with this show totally being able to pass as a run-through of some kind of nuclear waste themed scare house at one of Thorpe Park’s fright nights. I assume given that and the plastic Mickey Mouse print it’s supposed to be some kind of reference to the part late-stage capitalism has played in the hellish landscape we find ourselves in today? Or something all intellectual? In which case I made my interpretation with farrrr too much confidence. But Anyway! Who knows! I’ll leave the analysis to the fashion students, and give it one word: trippy.

Onto Dion Lee, a brand I truly do get excited to talk about because it’s rare that I don’t LOVE his work.

Without fail, Lee manages to be confidently ahead of the curve without going out of his way to announce it and his genius to everyone with flamboyant shows and exaggerated designs and extortionate prices. He is very much an underdog in the fashion world in terms of big names but you’ll be hard pressed to find anyone who doesn’t love his collections. His S/S21 collection is one of my favourites of the bunch. I love seeing something I’ve never seen before and the palm leaf breast plate is so odd but so cool and so perfectly Dion Lee at the same time; we’ve seen jungle/tropical inspired collections sooo many times *cough cough D&G cough cough* and THIS is how you make them fresh and unique. I mean, never in a million years did I think I’d get behind the resurgence of the gladiator sandal trend but Lee has me changing my mind. This is one of the very rare times you will ever see me using this meme to praise a man but:

I mean, he has Fernanda Ly modelling for him, that the man has taste goes without saying.

Now for a bit of a full circle moment, given that I did actually praise Dior’s haute couture collection in my first ever post; Maria Grazia did GOOD. Well, with haute couture at least.

She’s always pretty hamfisted with her references, there’s no denying, with that Grecian Goddess style RTW collection typifying that statement completely, but luckily she struck gold this time round; as someone who studied the Tudors for A-level history, seeing a modern take on the exaggeratedly feminine renaissance silhouettes with the baroque prints and the deep jewell tones got me super excited especially when you throw in the dreamy tarot theming and the nods to the mystical and arcane. Seeing as the Heavenly Bodies Met Gala (I know, I know, I need to move on) was some time ago now and Cersei Lannister’s *SPOILER* been crushed by a rock (could also be seen as a metaphor for the irrelevancy David Benioff and D.B Wise condemned GoT to when they aired that shitty ending tehe) and so probably won’t be getting a collection based on her costumes any time soon, this is the only fashion take on this kind of period dress I’m going to get…and you know what? I’m okay with that. Thanks Maria, I guess?

Her RTW collection wasn’t absolutely awful either, and slightly better than the past few collections at least. Put a monkey in a room with a typewriter (or show it enough similar well-received collections) and it will eventually write something that makes sense, don’t they say? I like the nomadic feel of a lot of the looks and there’s beautiful layering going on but the aura of exotic opulence unsurprisingly didn’t stick around for long and I found that there was a decline in quality in the midsection of the show that landed a lot of the outfits in either awkward mother of the bride at a beach wedding or The Only Way is Essex Ocean Beach PLT sponsored poolside party territory. The looks picked back up a bit towards the end stretch of the show but I wasn’t a fan of the Gucci style oversized glasses which were so out of place with the rest of the theming that if anything they seemed like a cheap grab at relevancy. So yeah, a middling, subpar Etro-esque collection which is better than usual for Dior I suppose.

Next, Elie Saab, whose S/S21 collection was kinda disappointing, tbh. Oh how the turns have tabled given that positive Dior review and my usual love of Saab’s collections.

I know his dresses lose some of their appeal when we can’t see them in motion but even ON the runway I can’t see myself being dazzled by any of these pieces the way I usually am. They’re lacking the level of detail and craftsmanship I associate with the brand seemingly in favour of block colours and suits and the issue is that the whole Disney Princess fantasy has always been the appeal for me because the silhouettes aren’t interesting enough on their own. They’re not ugly pieces, they’re nice, but does nice really have a place in high fashion when the pieces are so basic in both their design and presentation that the shots could pass as ripped from a catalogue? The strongest parts of the collection were when it did go down the more delicate route with the muted blue suits and the white feather trimmed dresses, the small, ornamental gold details reminding me of a very toned down nod to Schiaparelli’s hardware, but with regards to the bright coloured pieces, I can’t lie-they did look like something you could find in the M&S Per Una holiday section. Then you’ve got the weakest parts, which were just flat out ugly: sheer giraffe print, sweat band style elasticated waits, and long chiffon shirts that I hate to admit read as frumpy. There are times where I’ve not been particularly excited by an Elie Saab collection in the past, but I do think this is the first time I’ve actively disliked parts of it.

Conversely, Erdem’s S/S21 collection was super strong, and solidified the brand’s place in my mind as a dependable source of kooky maximalism, this time round giving us  Anya Taylor Joy’s Emma wardrobe on speed. You could tell me Erdem Moralıoğlu had just raided the Bridgerton set’s fitting rooms and put it on a runway and I would 100% believe you and I mean that in a positive way because to give my unpopular opinion, the clothes were the only good thing about that show. The endearingly florid details of exaggerated bows and clashing florals were still there but this time in a way that felt more subtle and self-assured, as if the calming influence of the wooded set’d had a direct hand in the designs, giving the rugged, ethereal feel to the collection I associate with brands like Brock and Simone Rocha, all whilst keeping the parts of Erdem I’m so fond of.

Is it really much of a shock that I included pretty much every look from the Etro S/S21 show?  Like, you know that Christian idea of God, like, (the voice in my head is very much taking on the dumb valley girl voice that anybody who reads this is most probably getting too) knowing our souls? I think Veronica Etro knows mine. So no, no surprise. Though there were a few unconventional touches thrown into these looks (the campier prints and nautical theming we see with the 80s beach towel print, for example, reminded me a bit of Versace) the mystical bohemian it girl that Etro designs for would still be highly satisfied. Sure, it might be a wardrobe fit for a holiday less adventurous than backpacking but if she wanted a tropical poolside holiday, this collection is the one, the paisley print chiffon mini and maxi dresses especially. I’m just gonna pretend I don’t see the monstrosity that is leggings worn as trousers-it’s a fashion rule I refuse to abandon-because they are the only stain on an otherwise expectedly gorgeous collection.

Next, an unusually reserved RTW collection from Fendi:

More in line with the wardrobe of a European fashion editor than the glamorous trophy wife (who let’s say uses that facade as a guise to ruthlessly run her husband’s whole business empire from behind the scenes because in this house we do complex female characters only), these pieces are lot “smarter” and more professional looking than Fendi’s typical offerings; where I feel Fendi usually designs for the society girl who wouldn’t mind a front page scandal, these are the kind of outfits a young member of Monaco’s royal family would wear for a positively received but business-as-usual press tour. I know, Fendi is an Italian brand, but this is more Southern France to me. We’re talking some 2nd page shots of a Kate Middleton type on a yacht on the Riviera smiling and waving as her PR team’s ideal scenario. Still, whilst fewer exaggerated silhouettes, animal prints and overtly luxurious fabrics (real leathers, silks and furs for example) mean that the drama’s a little toned down, it’s all still very expensive looking and combines the classically feminine glamour of the past and the minimalism of modernity in the artful manner that we’re used to. Maybe it’s me being a basic bitch but I always love seeing Ashley Graham on the runway too, even if brands to tend to use her as their single token plus size model.

Kim Jones’ debut haute couture collection for Fendi, however, wasn’t a very well received one. I don’t hate it personally but I can see where the criticisms are coming from. Whilst it’s closer to the version of Fendi I’ve come to expect and there were some stunning pieces which completely encapsulated that distinctive aura of luxe and glamour, there were quite a few lazy pieces which could’ve been from any designer. I also felt the collection was a bit upstaged by what seemed to be a who’s who of the modelling world; having Bella, Cara, Kate and Naomi ALL walk in one show was a bit distracting and took the focus off the clothes completely.

Giambattista Valli’s RTW collection was gorgeous as ever; the man has undeniably mastered the art of delivering classic, objective elegance, the kind of designs I feel would make you light on your feet and smell like strawberries and cream the minute you put one on. Whilst as a brand his RTW shows are rarely trendsetting, they reliably produce a plethora of unfailingly graceful and demure pieces, as appealing to your mum and your grandma as they are to young women and little girls, and this collection is another victory lap for Valli when it comes to upholding his signature tea party and artisan cupcake making and rose garden strolling and bottomless rosé brunch appropriate aesthetic. There were a lot of outfits that were bordering on overly juvenile, with structures a little too basic to justify the amount of sequins thrown on, but when it’s good, it’s so sweet that regardless of how to formula it is, I can’t help but fall in love.

Valli’s haute couture collection was stunning too and for sure a more exciting offering than the RTW. There was of course a lot of the signature tulle but it was head-turning, over the top in a way that leant far more towards the experimental than I expected. The photos themselves are 100% believable as a some kind of Vogue behind the scenes editorial shoot on the set of live action Disney princess movie (in between takes of the climactic ball scene if you wanna get specific with the vision); if you are looking for a prettier alternative to the primary colours and disruptive shapes of a Molly Goddard collection, this is the one. It’s giving the themes of excess and abundance I associate with that of the Hunger Games Capitol but through the softer lens of a Sofia Coppola movie, and being the typical cinema loving white girl I am, I’m obviously on board with that vibe.

I did SUCH a 180 on Givency’s S/S21 collection from when I first saw it to writing a review. My initial reaction was one of disappointment, I guess simply because Givenchy has given us so many bold pieces and presentations over the last few years whereas this is more low-key. After properly considering it though as I would any other brand, I came to the conclusion that I do actually really like it. It’s still got the strange, androgynous silhouettes popping up throughout and the futuristic space-age details but with a more down-to-earth, streetwear feel, albeit a very slick, glossy spin on the trends of the rabble (that’s us guys) of course before we go believing it’s achievable. On the one hand, the devil horn accents are a touch Claire’s accessories halloween range but at the same time, done with confidence they’re kind of cool and bring something new and fun to the table in line with the dark theatre of Givenchy’s last few shows.

Now for Gucci, which for the first time I have to say, if I'm attempting objectivity, is not a standout. 

Like, can I just start by saying though the format it’s presented in is cute, it’s not ideal as a way of actually showing the collection. I get that the vintage shop bin vibe is a huge part of Gucci’s brand but polaroids make it SO hard to actually see the clothes, and that’s what we’re here for right? I don’t want to give the impression that I don’t like what I see here-the clothes are gorgeous, an idyllic ode to the off-duty wardrobes of Studio 54-ers, bohemian style icons like Charlotte Rampling and young Olivia Newton-John, psychedelic rock guitarists and the inhabitants of San Fransisco’s Haight during the late 60s and early 70s, Alessandro Michele’s favourite period of reference. I can’t pretend otherwise, or act like I wouldn’t want to wear the shit out of this collection. Buut, for Gucci? It’s a little underwhelming. These are the kind of filler looks we get in a typical Gucci show to go alongside the more statement pieces, which this collection is lacking. It’s just that these are designs which usually gets people talking and these pieces don’t do that. It sucks because for most other brands this would be a stand out collection, an immersive, luscious vignette of what people tend to think of as a cultural golden era, but when you’ve had a show that involved models carrying replicas of their own decapitated heads down the runway in the last 5 years, of course something more toned down like this is gonna generate a lot of “is that it?”s.

I owe Hermes an apology. Looking back, I have disliked all their previous collections for the same reason that I now really like this one; maybe it’s in part down to the frustration of still having to whack out the winter coat on occasion in May (fuck British weather and climate change), but suddenly I really appreciate the value of some good quality, versatile outerwear. Hermes is giving us that in spades here and for that, I bow down to them. The pieces on offer are clearly well-made and genuinely practical, and through the minimalist approach manage to retain both an air of timeless sophistication whilst also being youthful and on trend. The leather tactical vest co-ord I can easily see edged up and taking centre stage on one of those insane Seoul street style slow-mo TikToks that were big a couple of months ago and there are several pieces that could tie together a grunge influenced k-style look just as well as they could exist for years on end as the wardrobe staple of a high-powered businesswoman. Designer Nadège Vanhee-Cybulski’s strengths really come through with the simpler looks and it’s the patterned pieces that drag down an otherwise flawless collection; I guess because the aesthetic is very minimalist, the patterns can’t be anything overly decorative but unfortunately this has a bit of a dowdy effect when you pair it with such modest silhouettes. Disregarding those elements of the collection though, it was super good.

It goes without saying that Iris Van Herpen’s haute couture collection was breathtaking; if the fashion community can agree on anything, it’s that this woman’s work is consistently awe-inspiring. She captures the wonder of the universe, the biological structures and kaleidoscopic colours we don’t even register, through fashion in a way that others can only imitate, to mesmerising, truly transcendent effect; I can only assume Van Herpen has mother nature whispering into her ear because how the hell else do you explain her ability to take the kind of microscopic organisms they show you images of in an outdated GCSE science powerpoint and make a dress that resembles one so stunning? Care to explain, Iris? Because if there is some kind of line of communication between the two of you can you please tell the bitch I’m over this weather and that I have cute summer outfits I’m waiting to wear so can she pack this torrential rain shit in? K, thanks xoxo

See it seems shady as fuck to go from IVH to Isabel Marant like this because we are talking 2 designers with totallyyyy different approaches to fashion; Iris Van Herpen is haute couture for starters whereas Marant is commercial, and that’s her thing, but unfair comparisons aside this collection is still a bit of a let down. This is considering I do usually really like Isabel Marant collections based on whether or not I’d wear the pieces, which seems a more appropriate barometer to use to come to a quality verdict. Whilst there were a few of the elegant bohemian pieces my mind goes to when it comes to her brand, the steps outside of that comfort zone didn’t pay off; graffiti print (can be cool if done with some subtlety which apart from a few exceptions was not the case here), cheap looking reflective fabric, and MC Hammer style dungarees, it seems to be an attempt to merge 80s trends with modern urban culture, and an attempt that at times verged on the disastrous. It’s good for a brand to experiment, of course, and appeal to a wider client base than usual, but when it’s bad the unfortunate take away is that the design team don’t have the chops to pull off straying from familiar territory; designers wouldn’t be showing at fashion week if this was truly the case because disregarding the influence of nepotism, fashion is an area you need real talent, perseverance and business smarts to excel in, and so it doesn’t do a team justice when they do fail.

J.W Anderson, on the other hand, really put his best foot forward this season and presented this work in a really cool way too which only added to the positives; whilst the way the shots were edited was funky af, it didn’t detract from the actual outfits, and if we are to see the same limitations when it comes to the F/W collections being released, this is something a lot of designers and editing teams should take note of. The idiosyncratic exaggerated shapes that we see as a recurring feature of Anderon’s collections were still on show but this time round with added femininity, billowing skirts and trailing jewellery that channel the stage looks of Stevie Nicks in a way that’s modern and functional and maybe even fit for the office if you were to work in a more creative industry with a chill boss. Could also work for a coven of witches who practice meditation by bonfires in the moonlight and burn the letters of men who wronged them in some Arizonian desert, so like I said, functional! Who doesn’t like versatility? The only thing I’m not too keen on is the shoes but they’re not so bad that it affects my opinion of the collection and they look comfy I guess.

Lastly, we’ve got to talk about Jacquemus, one of the most influential names in fashion at the moment. And yes, this time round, I’m doing it: I’m buying into the hype.

This collection is gorgeousss! I can see already that a lot of the recurring elements of the show are going to be big summer trends for this year (the cut outs and strappy details on the blouses are everywhere already) even though it isn’t hot enough to have collectively decided the time to start dressing for heat is upon us yet, and that’s always a good indicator of how successful the designer was in their vision and attempts to assess the needs and wants of fashion enthusiasts; whether I’m as big a fan of his work as everyone else seems to be, there’s no denying Simon Porte Jacquemus has always excelled at this practice if the buzz around him is anything to go by. It makes sense given the last year of us all being stuck in and suppressed that a lot of us are already romanticising the summer ahead, anticipating picnics and beach days and general Theresa May running through wheat fields type shenanigans galore, in spite of how dubious an assumption it is to make that British weather will allow for this; Porte Jacquemus has very much catered to this wishful thinking and the popularity of the whole escapist “cottage core” aesthetic, sexing it up a little bit with pieces that hug the body in ways only Mugler knows how whilst being lightweight and relaxed enough to look good with windswept, sandy hair and a little dose of sunburn. I’m talking enough to give you some cutesy freckles and rosy cheeks not PSA on the importance of suncream territory, guys, what is it with those of us on the gen Z/millennial cusp not taking sun damage seriously!? Why do I have to beg so many of my friends to wear it!? Does nobody else remember those photos they’d show you in PSHE in English primary schools of burnt people’s skin under UV lights? Or is that just me being weird and only having such a vivid memory of the images because teachers told us we had to wait until year 6 to see them due they to their “graphic” nature only for my gore-loving self to be extremely underwhelmed when we finally did get that lesson? They showed us a woman giving birth in year 4 for fuck’s sake. THAT was traumatising.

Back to the actual point anyway, with just a couple of negatives, the first of which being that the pieces are very similar to those feminine looks we saw dotted about the Jacquemus menswear collection from last year that were all over fashion Twitter. In Simon Porte Jacquemus’ defence though, it makes sense that those tones and silhouettes would be revisited in a full womenswear collection for that very reason; considering they went down so well and that lockdown gave us a bit of a half-baked summer in 2020, expanding on those elements enough for a whole new collection makes good business sense. We did get some cool additions too, mainly in the form of accessories, with the hardware details on the belts similar to those included in the Givenchy collection and the abstract hair slides being standouts for me. It was all exquisite-the shoes, the jewellery, the styling, everything 10/10. My other nitpick, and I say nitpick not because it’s not important but because it’s an issue that’s hardly restricted to Jacquemus (this casting team are far from the worst offenders, Saint Laurent I’m looking at you), is that I WISH we’d see more diversity with the models. Despite what my body dysmorphia yells at me, I am small, and yet seeing all those fucking minuscule waists made me die a little inside; it’s crazy to me that in 2020 the lack of variety in body types on the runway is still such a problem.

I must have said this a million times but I don’t want to end on a negative note so let me reiterate: this collection was STUN. NING. Plus there were some others I’ve talked about in this post that I’m sure will make it into my top 20 in the final part, Jacquemus, Dion Lee and Etro for sure; we even got some gorgeous pieces from Maria Grazia which I thought was a sentence I’d never type out. Have I said enough to not leave a bad taste in the mouth of anyone who read to the end of this post? I hope so, lol! TBH, it’s impressive given everything that’s going on that the majority of designers did roll out collections in September as usual so serious respect to them and their design teams for that.

In the next post, I’ll fingers crossed be able to include everything from Kim Shui (exciting!) through to at least Off-White (actually pretty good this time?!) and make this whole thing a 4 parter before getting straight on top of the photo posts I’m thinking about doing for the time being for the F/W21 shows. So as usual, if you did read to the end thank you so much and I respect the perseverance you must have to get through all my rambling, lmao. Hope everyone is well and coping okay and again, my inbox is always open for any post suggestions, constructive criticism, or just a chat for anyone who needs a listening ear.

Big love and thank you again!

Lauren x

[cthomashoodstory]

Best Years but Not in the Same Way (19)

Calum Hood x Reader

Previous Part

I’m sorry english isn’t my native. And also i got pictures from google and if one of it is yours and you want to take it down pls let me know. I’m so nervous to write this part sjsjsj i hope someone is reading. And btw if you found this post for the first time, i suggest you to read the entire parts i gave the link below! And so sorry if u get bored :(

Masterlist

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”It’s literally 8 A.M in the morning, you better be have a good thing to showed me or i will hate you.” Calum called you in the morning saying that he had something to showed you and you have to come and now here you are. “What?” You asked him when you were in his room.

Then he pulled out a very cute floral dress. “I bought this for you last month for Ash birthday party today. I don’t know if you like this or not, but here it is. I hope you like it. And also the heels, i love it so i bought it to you.” He gave it the dress and heels and now you were just speechless because this dress is hella cute and expensive.

“I forgot it’s Ashton birthday...,” you paused. “Do you have something to be give to him?” He shooked his head. “Let’s get out then?” He nodded an you two headed out.

After 5 hours went out to store by store and had lunch, you and Calum finally arrived at home at 2 P.M.. You bought a Leather Lace-up Ankle boots for Ashton as present because he said he love wearing boots and he kinda collecting it right now so it might be a good gift for him. And Calum bought an electric guitar for him.

“Hey i think I’m gonna get ready, since i took an hour to do make up so... bye.” You waved at him and ran to his bedroom to get ready.

An hour later, you our from his room and you saw him stood waiting for you. “You were ready? Since when? Damn you look so hot!” You said it out loud and he blushed.

“Since 30 minutes ago i think? And you look so beautiful.” He couldn’t take his eyes off of you. “I think we should stay at home rather than go to Ash’s party.” He gave you a serious face.

“Why?” Suddenly you felt so disappointed because you just prepared for an hour, you got a very beautiful mini dress from him and now he wants to canceled it?

He laughed. “I don’t want any men to steal you away from me. I mean look at you right now.” He teased you and put his hand on your waist. You were inch away from his face and now you wanted to to something but you afraid. You were still afraid until today.

“Should we go?” You asked him and he nodded while pulled his hand away.

You went out and he drove fast. You didn’t interact with him on the car. It was just too awkward for you both.

An hour later you and him arrived at Ashton’s place. It was just 4 P.M and his house already crowded. You held your present for him and Calum also did the same. You and him went in and looking for Ashton. You finally met him. He was stood at the corner with Luke and Michael and Mitchy Collins.

“Aye my favorite couple.” He hugged Calum first and then Calum gave the present. And then you hugged him. “Awh thank you so much, Cal and Bar. Enjoy the party.” You walked away from them and joined Kaitlin, Crystal and Sierra on the counter.

“Oh my God, look at your dress, you really stealing the spotlight!” Crystal complimented your dress. “I knew it Calum has a taste.”

You frowned. “Oh Calum showed us the dress after he bought it last month. Oh virtually of course. Don’t worry he didn’t cheat with us. His heart is belong to you.” Sierra explained and you smiled while rolling your eyes.

“So how’s the progress with you and Calum? Are you guys kissed already?” Kaitlin asked you excitedly. You knew she’s a bit drunk since she held the red glass.

You shook your head and nodded at the same time. “We are not dating, we’re still friends but we ever kissed and thats it. No more further explanation.” You grinned and poured beer to your glass.

After hours you’ve been mingled with everyone, you decided to go to the bathroom to freshing up. While on the way you pulled out your phone from your sling purse and you shocked you got 20 missed calls from Mike and you got so much message from him, your mom, Julia, Tranter and other friends. But one notification that caught your eyes was a missed call from Justin at 3 P.M.. What the hell is going on? You could feel your face is pale and you panicked and ran fast to the bathroom. You locked the door and sit on toilet. You called Mike Immediately and you scared to death. Your mind flashback to when he called you 30 times because he worried when Justin and Selena got back.

“Saara Palvin are you okay? Why you didn’t pick my call?” He sounded so worried, exactly like 3 years ago.

“My phone went silent and I’m fine I’m at Ashton’s birthday party. What happened? Nevermind i will find it by myself and i promise you i will be fine, i won’t hurting myself ever again. Okay? Bye.” You hung up the call and searching on Safari about Justin Bieber. That’s really what you searched because deep down in your heart you knew if Mike, Julia and Tranter texted or called you at the same time, it really had something to do with Justin. And coincidentally Justin did called you and it really ruined your mind. The search came up and you saw a news about Justin Bieber and Hailey Baldwin engaged at Bahamas today. Wait what? Engaged? Justin is engaged? With Hailey? You read the headline again and locked your phone. You don’t care. You don’t care at all. He could do anything he wanted.

Then the bathroom door is knocked. “Saara? Are you okay? It’s me Kaykay. I saw you running to the bathroom worriedly. Are you okay?” She asked yo politely and you unlocked the door so she could come in. “Hey girl, what’s wrong?” She wiped out the tears that feel down to your face. You really managed to not cry in front of her but you failed.

You tried to breath slowly. “I think I’m going home now. I’m not feeling good right now. Justin is engaged with his girlfriend.” You finally confessed to her and she hugged you. “I don’t want people to know about it. What is my excuse then?”

She pulled the hug. “Just said that your mom needs you right know and they would understand. Calum would understand. You had to lie to them for your own sake. You need to rest, Miss B. And when you talked to them just thinking about a funny moments so that you wont cry.” You nodded and put the lipstick on your lips and out from the bathroom. You were separated from Kaitlin and walked towards the boys who sat down on the chairs laughing together.

“Hi guys i think I’m going out now, my mom is need my help right now and i will go to her place now. Bye guys, once again happy birthday Ashy.” You hugged Ashton, then Luke and Michael.

“Let me drive you there, Bar.” He held your arm but you brushed it off.

You looked at him. “No, you need to be here for Ashton. I will be fine okay? Have fun baby.” You kissed his cheek and left him as fast as you could because you were about to cry if you still there with him. You ordered Uber and headed home.

You finally at your bedroom and lean on the wall. You cannot cry because what’s the point of it? He has a good life and so are you. You are happy with your life, you surrounded by a very good people, the best friends who always support you, you’re happy.

You changed your clothes into pajamas and you sat on your living room. And you saw Calum texted you.

You felt bad for lying to him but this was the only thing you could do. He might get hurt if he knew the real answer. You really try hard to move on from Justin. It was harder than you thought. The past still haunts you until today. The memories still haunts you.

You turned on the tv and watch a random show but you didn’t really paid attention to it. Your mind kept thinking about Justin over and over. and you decided to keep your mind busy thinking about other by watching a criminal tv show.

It surprisingly distracted you for hours until you heard a message notification.

Ah these big mouth guys. Why in the hell they told Calum about it? So that why he asked you if you okay twice. He probably hated you right now. You couldn’t do anything but sighed. Calum must be hurted right now. Why all of this happened?

Then you heard your door being unlocked and you saw Calum walked in with flowers on his left hand and a totebag on his right hand. Wait what was he doing here?

“Cal?” You were so shocked when he showed up. He smiled to you and you knew he was hurted judging by his expression.

“Hi Bar,” he greeted you and handed you the flowers. “I just want to be here with you to cheer you up.” He signaled you to sat on the couch with him. And then you sat with him and put the flowers on your lap. “I bought you chocolates, lots of chocolate,” he pulled it out one by one. “Then a red lipstick because i know you love to wear it, and a tiny teddy bear. I honestly suck at this so thats the only thing i bought for you.”

You smiled to him and hold his hand. “Thank you, Cali. You really cheered me up.” “And i want to-“

But he cut your talk. “I know what happened, Ashton told me.” He held your hand tight. “I want you to be honest with me, i was so confused when you said you didn’t want me to drove you. I thought i made a mistake.”

You sighed. “Im sorry i didn’t want to hurt you, i didn’t want you to know that I’m hurt, I’m messed on the inside. I didn’t want you to hate me just because I’m still trying to find my way out from my past. I hate myself for keep hurting you until today.”

“Hey hey please don’t cry.” He hugged you and you cried on his chest. “I know moving on is the hardest thing to do, but i know you can do it. I trust the process, Bar. I trust us.”

You pulled the hug. “You can always find and fall in love with another brain, another soul, rather than stay and wait for me to heal the feeling.”

“No.” He shook his head. “I love you and i only want you in my life. I will always love you no matter how hard this situation is. I will wait for you.”

-

To be continued.

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