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writtenonreceipts · 14 days

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Rowaelin Month Day Eight: Ocean/Beach @rowaelinscourt

Rowaelin Month Masterlist // AO3 Link

warnings: mild angst ~2.6k words

.*.*.*.*.

say it now

In retrospect, Aelin should have known getting married was a terrible idea.

It should be noted that Aelin loved the idea of marriage. Loved the idea of commitment and finding joy and growth with another person. She wanted to love, wanted to learn, wanted to live a full life. She wanted to wear white and hold a bursting bouquet of flowers and walk down an aisle and feel like the most beautiful woman alive.

But this—standing in the bridal suite of The Oakwald dressed in an enormous ball gown with hair that had too much hairspray and shoes that were too slippery—this was a terrible idea.

“Okay,” she said, staring at the reflection of herself in the gold gilded mirror that had so kindly been provided so she could stare horror in the eyes. “Okay. This is fine.”

She barely managed to send off her future mother-in-law for an emergency drink and chocolate run while her maid of honor and bridesmaids had last-minute pictures taken of them getting ready in the adjoining room. This was supposed to be her moment of peace where she would come to her senses and feel happy about her nuptials. Nuptials that were set to take place in twenty minutes.

And she wanted to vomit.

Aelin glanced at her reflection seeking for some sort of strength there. She’d wanted to wear her hair down with loose curls and her mother’s veil. Her future mother-in-law insisted she wear her hair in the tightest bun known to man and wear the family pearls. She’d wanted a form fitting gown of silk. Her future mother-in-law said a tulle and floofy ball gown would be better suited for Broadway.

And Aelin, desperate for her new family to like her, had agreed. And now she was suffocating.

The stupid ball gown style dress felt heavy against her body, the thick tulle and beading was scratchy and did nothing to help her from feeling overstimulated. One hand flew to the neckline—where she tugged for just a hint of relief.

She couldn’t do this.

A picture of her and Sam sat on the dresser. It was stacked with her makeup and a few different jewelry options. It was supposed to be a sweet reminder of what she was looking forward to. A marriage with the man she loved. Only…she didn’t love Sam.

The only reason she’d agreed to any of this was that it was expected of her, it was the right choice. But was it what she wanted?

Bile rose in her gut and Aelin was sure she was going to be sick.

She glanced at the ornate clock on the wall above the dresser. Eighteen minutes until she was scheduled to walk down the aisle.

Her mind reeled as she tried to figure out what she needed to do. She could text Lysandra and Elide. Her bridesmaids would do anything for her and keep her future mother-in-law occupied if she asked for it. No questions. No judgment.

But just the thought of leaving, of running, filled Aelin with dread.

The Cortland’s were an important name in Terrasen and held a great deal of sway in her father’s business. This marriage would be advantages for both families if not in financial gain, then showing a strong, united force. And with her father’s business struggling, this would be an excellent way to improve shareholder opinions.

Aelin liked Sam well enough. They got along and he seemed to enjoy her company too. Maybe she could grow to love him. One day.

But what if that day never came? What if they remained acquaintances that hardly talked? Would he even respect her enough not to cheat or treat her with disdain as the years passed?

Her stomach heaved again.

She really couldn’t do this.

Aelin glanced at the picture of her and Sam then at the clock. Fifteen minutes. Someone would be checking on her soon.

Heaving the skirts of her dress into her arms (why the hell did this thing have so many layers?) Aelin hurried to the door of the suite. Thankfully she hadn’t put on the heels that would accompany the dress and was left instead with her slippers. She didn’t have time to waste, not even to grab a robe or a sweater for the cool spring air.

She flung open the door of the suite and ran straight into a wall of solid muscle. Yelping, Aelin nearly went tumbling. The cheap, faux leather of her slippers nearly went sliding out from under her and the too many layers of the too big dress twisted around her.

Strong hands reached out and gripped her shoulders holding her in place.

Looking up, Aelin met the intense and grounding gaze of Rowan Whitethorn.

“Aelin,” he said, a frown turning down his lips and furrowing his brow. He looked her over as if expecting to see something amiss. “Are you alright?”

“Rowan,” Aelin whispered.

Rowan. Her best friend, Rowan. The one person who knew her better than anyone, Rowan. The one she could turn to after her mother’s death or when her father wouldn’t listen. The one who snuck her chocolates when she had a bad day. The one who had always been there for her even when maybe she didn’t deserve it.

“What are you doing here?” Aelin asked, still shocked to see him. He’d been invited of course, both him and his mother. She’d insisted they come and be treated like family. She’d even made sure a corsage was ready for Iona when she arrived, much to Mrs. Cortland’s chagrin.

Because really, Aelin couldn’t imagine this day happening without either of them here. Especially not Rowan. Rowan who she’d known for ages. Who had been with her when broke her arm trying to climb a barbed wire fence. Who had held her hair back after a bad night drinking. Who held her hand after her mom died.

Rowan who was the only one she could trust.

“Ma told me to,” Rowan answered. He stared at her with continued confusion, the dip in his brow deepening. His eyes went down the many folds of her dress before he settled back on her face. “You look--”

“I look ridiculous,” Aelin snorted when he trailed off, not seeing the small tilt of his chin or the light gleam in his eyes. She peered out down the hall, worried that Mrs. Cortland would appear at any moment. When she saw nothing but the empty hall with its pale blue carpets she looked back at Rowan. “Is your mother here?”

Iona Whitethorn had been a near constant staple in Aelin’s life since she was twelve years old and her mother had passed. When it came to bra shopping, period talk, and hair help—Iona had been there. She was a first-generation immigrant from her home country and a small business owner of a successful little shop in downtown Terrasen. For as long as Aelin could remember, Iona had been there. She was like a second mother. A real second mother.

“She’s downstairs,” Rowan said. Slowly, he dropped his hands from her shoulders and the warmth he had crept away with him. “There was something with the flowers and she said I should check up on you—Aelin, are you alright?”

Was she alright?

Her heart beat uncomfortably hard in her chest even as the rest of her body felt weightless. This was panic and she absolutely did not like it.

So she did the only thing she could think of. Aelin grabbed Rowan’s hand and shoved him back through the doorway of her suite.

“We’re leaving,” she said. She pulled the door shut behind her with a definitive click.

“What?” Rowan asked, sounding none too assured by the declaration. “Aelin, slow down.”

He pulled her to a stop, which considering he was practically a giant next to her and how distracted she already was, it was easy to do.

Rowan turned her toward him, still holding the hand she’d grabbed him with. Unlike Aelin herself, Rowan appeared to be collected. His steady gaze held hers with the same intensity he always had. He didn’t say anything, only held her there with his gaze and that firm reassurance of his hand in hers. It took several moments for Aelin to notice that she’d calmed her breathing to match his. That the erratic beat of her heart had calmed to a gentle thrum. Even if the rest of her felt like it was going to explode.

“You’re alright,” Rowan said, voice soft. Painstakingly gentle and so unlike the rough and hewn way he always spoke. “Just breathe, Fireheart.”

She most certainly wasn’t, but short of bursting into hysterics Aelin continued to breathe with him.

Twelve minutes. She had twelve minutes before the wedding started and she would need to be ready to walk down the aisle.

Across the hall another door cracked open and loud bursts of laughter and giggles streamed out. Aelin looked over to see Lysandra hanging onto the door already dressed in the soft purple of her maid of honor dress. Her eyes widened as she took in the sight of Aelin and Rowan standing together in the hall.

Lysandra nodded once, more to herself than anything, before raising her voice.

“We need another picture together! With the mimosas this time!” Lysandra disappeared back into the room.

“You can’t leave your own wedding, Aelin,” Rowan said. Though, he didn’t sound very convincing.

“I’m not married yet,” she said. She took a step down the hall, toward the back staircase that would lead away from the wedding hall. She turned toward him. “And I can’t marry him. Will you help me?”

It only took a moment's hesitation before Rowan nodded and led her out of the hotel.

…

The sunset hung over Skulls Bay beach in a burning inferno of orange and gold. Aelin watched it with rapt attention, mesmerized by the colors as they continued to bleed across the sky. There weren’t even any clouds to disrupt the beauty.

She dug her toes into the sand beneath her, warmth still clinging to the grains from the heat of the day. The pair of sweatpants she wore were several sizes too big and she’d had to roll the cuffs up three times to keep them from dragging too much as she walked. The t-shirt wasn’t much better. But it was better than a giant cream puff of a dress.

That monstrosity was stuffed into Rowan’s truck with the silken slippers sitting atop.

Beside her Rowan was stretched out, fancy suit and all. He’d offered up his suit coat for her to sit on. When she’d tried to refuse, he’d just rolled his eyes and nearly tossed her down onto the sand.

Just take it, Fireheart.

It had been ages since he’d called her that. Too long really. Ever since she’d started dating Sam, they’d grown distant. Mostly because Sam asked her to and the rest because that was just how life was. And Aelin hated every part of it. She hated that she didn’t know her best friend like she once did. She hated that she didn’t know how to tell him she was sorry.

But right now, she couldn’t bring herself to do anything but breathe in the salty air and let the warm air wash over her.

“Lysandra texted me.” Rowan finally broke the silence; it had been nearly an hour since either of them had spoken.

“We’re supposed to be taking pictures at the country club,” Aelin said. She tucked her arms beneath her bent knees and stared out over the ocean waves. The Cortland’s were very proud about their membership. It was one of the many compromises she’d made.

“She said she got everything taken care of,” Rowan said. He kept his voice gentle which was starting to grate on Aelin’s nerves. He wasn’t nice or gentle or soft. This wasn’t who he was. “You don’t need to worry about anything.”

“Is my father mad?” She couldn’t bring herself to ask about Sam.

When Rowan didn’t say anything, she knew well enough. Her father was never going to let her forget this.

“It doesn’t matter what he thinks, Aelin,” Rowan told her. “All that matters is that you’re happy.”

Aelin turns her head so she can look at him, her temple resting against her knees. She can only see his profile; his strong cheekbones, his full mouth, the straight edge of his nose, the scar she gave him along his eyebrow. The scar had been an accident involving roller blades, a pogo stick, and a slip-n-slide. They’d both been idiots that day.

“I ruined the future he had lined up for me,” Aelin said. “He had everything planned out.”

When he turned to look at her, he had that damn compassion still in his eyes.

“Everything was set and it was going to be perfect.” Even as she said it, she hated the words. Her stomach roiled. “I should go back. If I—”

“Aelin.” Rowan snatched a hand out, grabbing her arm when she started to rise. “You were terrified. I saw that look in your eyes. I know that look. I know you.”

I know you.

“No you don’t,” she said, the words hollow in her own head. Because I don’t even know me. She kept that part to herself. It wasn’t worth speaking aloud.

She had lost her mind. The was the simplest explanation to any of this. She’d lost her mind somewhere along the way and hadn’t noticed until now. Because why would she leave her wedding? She’d left a man at the altar. Who did that? People who’d lost their minds apparently. So, really, Rowan didn’t know her. Because how could he have possibly known she’d need a getaway driver? How could he have possibly known she was freaking out? How could he have known?

She shook his hand free of her arm and he let her go. He remained right where he was of course, right beside her the sleeves of his dress shirt rolled up, tight loose and neck exposed. He was something out of a magazine. His hair had grown longer since the last time she’d seen him, not quite to his shoulders yet, but it was getting there. She always did prefer him with long hair. Not that she’d ever tell him that.

“You’re going to be fine, Aelin,” Rowan said to her continued silence. “And nothing Rhoe says or does is going to change that. And nothing you say to me is going to push me away either, so you can cut that shit out.”

Once that might have made her smile.

Now, she took in another breath of the warm summer air. The sun was dropping quickly now and soon the day would only be a memory.

“What do I do now?” she asked. Or maybe she thought it. Or maybe it was it the constant message that rang through her very being.

“You fight like hell,” Rowan said.

She looked over at him but he was staring out at the ocean, watching the pelicans dive into the water for their final meal of the day. The sun skirted the surface of the water sending out flashes of light if you looked at it wrong. There was something peaceful about this moment and Aelin decided that for now, she would take it.

.*.*.*.*.

Title comes from a Mat Kearney song of the same name.

#rowaelin #rowaelin month #rowan x aelin

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bluem1ngs · 2 months

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She let out a trembling breath, picked up her belongings, and stuffed them into her purse.

She’s dressed in white. It’s like she walking down the aisle, wearing an elegant ball gown. She was breathtakingly gorgeous with her hair styled in a sophisticated bun.

He followed her into his house and stood at the door watching her pack.

He's too still wore his tuxedo from their evening together.

They hadn’t seen each other in months, and this was their first night together. She was aboard for university and had returned that morning. Despite the difficulties of long distance, the two chose to continue their relationship.

Actually, the two had separated for quite some time beforehand and only rekindled when he flew out to her and asked for forgiveness. The relationship ended due to constant arguing and miscommunication on both parts. He promised her it would be different this time, and she believed him until that night.

“Elizabeth, I don’t understand what I did wrong.”

Reluctant to look at him at that precise moment, she turned her back to face him.

With desperation, he called out, "Elizabeth."

When she turned to face him, she asked, "Why didn't you tell me about your knee?"

He asked her, looking perplexed, "What?"

“Why didn’t you tell me about your knee sprain, why didn’t you tell me that you were going through a hard time?!”

He went on, "Look, Elizabeth, I know I should have told you these things. I'm sorry, but I thought it would be better to tell you in person.”

With her back to him, she was occupied with finding her car keys.

He gave her the keys to her car, which she accepted.

With a sigh, he asked her, "Is it impossible for you to forgive me?" staring at her.

She is emotionless as she looks at him.

“I forgave you.” he reminds her of their past.

She scoffs, almost amused but yet irritated, and exclaimed, “For what?!”

"For leaving me," he tells her.

In that moment, her emotions began to overwhelm her.

“I left for college.. I thought it was the best decision for us and you know what, Pedro? I loved you for that.. you had such grace in that moment and I fell in love with you all over again. I can’t believe you would use it now as a bargaining chip!” she exhales tremblingly.

“No, no, I’m not— I’m not.. I just need you to trust me and believe me when I tell you that my heart is with you,” He says, pausing for a second, “But a part of me feels like ever since we got back together, you’ve just been waiting to push me away.”

She nearly laughs, “Oh, great. You don’t tell me and share important things that happen in your life and I’m pushing you away?!” she shouted at him.

“I love you, Elizabeth,” With true love in his eyes, he said, “I don’t know how else to say it.”

“How about how you show it?” she whispered to him, starring at him through teary eyes, “I am not pushing you away, Pedro, I am holding on for dear life!”

Looking at him, she sniffles and fights back the tears.

“I need you to need me back!” She cries out, “Okay, why wouldn’t you tell me about your injury, and why wouldn’t you ever call me while I was away?” She pushes his chest in distraughtness, “and why won’t you ever just let me all the way in?”

He stands there, taking her pushes and hits she threw at him.

She cried out, her hands on his chest, and fell into his arms. He hugged her delicately, as if to apologize.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, Elizabeth." He whispers into her ear, hugging her closely. "I love you, I love you so much."

He sat on the kitchen floor, holding her in his arms.

#pedri fanfic #pedri x y/n #pedri x reader #pedri imagine #pedri gonzalez #pedri #pedro gonzalez #pedro gonzález lópez #barca x reader #fc barca

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hamsterclaw · 11 months

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Sanctity

Your ex-husband is at a wedding with you, and it feels like you don't exist. Part of the Love series, read the rest here.

Pairing: Namjoon x afab! reader

Rating: 18+

Genre: Exes, angst

Warnings: Swearing

When you were invited to this wedding, your university friend Soojin had told you that Namjoon was going to be best man.

Soojin’s groom, Alex, has been friends with Namjoon since childhood, so you weren’t surprised at all.

You’d texted Namjoon about the wedding but he hadn’t bothered to reply.

You’d assumed that he was busy, you’ve been slammed at work too, it’s always hectic in the runup to Christmas.

The wedding ceremony is in a 15th century chapel, tucked in the side streets of the very edges of the city, and the wedding celebration in a boutique hotel nearby.

You’re chatting to one of your old university friends at the drinks reception after the ceremony when Namjoon arrives.

He looks irresistible in his navy suit. Perfect. Unattainable.

He’s not alone.

He’s got a stunning woman on his arm, and they’re both laughing like she’s just said the funniest thing in the world.

Your ex-husband’s dimples flash, and he bends down solicitously, steadying her as her heel gets caught in her beautiful gown.

Their show of unity hits you like a kick in the chest.

Namjoon looks up, catches the stricken look on your face that you aren’t emotionally nimble enough to hide.

Your eyes lock.

A breath is all it takes before he turns away like he never saw you.

***

There’s a startling clarity to your feelings as you try your hardest to avoid your ex and his date at this small, intimate wedding.

You’re hurt.

Hurt that he didn’t bother to tell you he was bringing a date to this wedding.

Hurt that as much as you’re trying to avoid him, he seems to be just as keen to avoid you.

You know he’s been dating since the divorce, well, you both have.

You owe each other nothing.

You smile distractedly at the ex-classmate you’re struggling to find common ground with.

What’s his name?

Louis? Lewis?

You’re too scattered to remember.

He’s telling you about his recent divorce, which is making you think about your own divorce.

Two years ago.

Have you and Namjoon really been fucking around for two whole years after the divorce was finalised?

Shit.

You can’t blame him for wanting to move on.

Louis steadies you as someone bumps into you from behind, jostling you.

There’s kindness in his eyes.

You force yourself to focus.

‘Divorce is hard,’ you say, a lame attempt at keeping the conversational ball going.

Louis, the gentleman that he is, says, ‘People who’ve been through it tell me it gets easier over time.’

‘I don’t know that it does,’ you say, the first truth you’ve spoken tonight.

Louis looks at you curiously, but you’re in no mood to extrapolate.

You swallow the rest of your drink and excuse yourself to use the bathroom.

You don’t recognise yourself in the mirror, that’s the honest truth.

Sure, you’re wearing the clothes and jewellery you put on earlier today, and your hair is still how you styled it, but you look completely different.

You’re flustered and frazzled and anguished.

Worst of all, you’re a fool.

You add colour to your cheeks to hide how drained you look, top up your lipstick in a desperate attempt to fix your face, but you know it’s futile.

You emerge from the bathroom and realise everyone’s heading to their tables for the meal.

You check the table plan and head for your seat.

You force a smile for the vaguely familiar people at your table and are pulling your chair out when a hand lands next to yours on the back of the chair.

You follow the line of the arm, up to the shoulder, up the curl of hair just touching his collar, up to his face.

Min Yoongi.

‘Let me,’ he says, smiling at you politely.

He seats you, then sits in the chair next to yours.

‘I didn’t know you were coming to this wedding,’ you say.

The truth is, you’re grateful for his familiarity.

You don’t know Yoongi well, but he and Namjoon are close friends and he’d joined you for dinner a few times whilst you and Namjoon were still married.

‘I wasn’t sure I’d be able to make it back in time,’ Yoongi admits. ‘I wrapped up a project in Kowloon last night.’

You know Yoongi works for his family business.

‘Have you been busy lately?’ you ask.

Yoongi signals to the waiter, hands you a glass of white.

‘No busier than usual,’ he says. ‘I think Namjoon’s been busy though.’

‘Yeah?’ you say, carefully neutral.

‘Seen much of him lately?’ Yoongi asks, taking a sip of his wine.

‘Not a lot,’ you say, truthfully.

‘Me either,’ Yoongi says.

You take another sip of wine.

‘So how come you’re at the singles table?’ you ask, trying to change the subject.

Yoongi rakes a hand through his hair.

‘No one will put up with me,’ he says, straightfaced.

‘I’m really taking one for the team, sitting next to you,’ you say, deadpan.

‘You definitely deserve extra dessert,’ Yoongi shoots back.

The laughter that bubbles out of you at his remark goes a long way towards easing the tension you’ve been feeling all night.

Yoongi smiles. His hand lands on the table, rings gleaming as he fiddles with the wedding favours scattered on the white linen.

‘I’m hungry,’ he tells you. ‘I hope the food’s good.’

You’re not sure you’ve got any appetite but you murmur in agreement anyway.

At least you can’t see Namjoon and his date from where you’re sitting.

Yoongi’s got a knack for filling in the blanks in the conversation, but even better, he doesn’t mind silence.

His company carries you through the different courses so well you feel like you need to thank him.

You’re about to, when a delicate tinkling fills the air.

You turn around to see that it’s your ex-husband, standing, tall and handsome in his suit, especially now that his tie’s loosened a little.

He’s holding up a glass of champagne.

‘I hope you’ve enjoyed your meals everyone. As Alex’s best man, I’ll be guiding through the speeches this evening,’ he says, smooth, confident, charming.

He’s always been good at commanding a room.

You feel disconnected, numb as Namjoon introduces Alex’s father, Soojin’s father, Soojin’s maid of honour for their speeches, applauding mechanically.

You don’t take in a single word any of them have said.

Through it all, Namjoon provides a charming, easy commentary, until it’s time for his own speech.

‘I’ve known Alex since we were kids,’ Namjoon says, ‘and believe me, there are stories that I could tell, but I did promise that I wasn’t going to embarrass him in front of his nonna.’

There’s a ripple of laughter.

You’re transfixed.

You’re trying to remember when you last heard Namjoon speak like this.

All of your interactions for years have been snappy, impactful, sexy, but he hasn’t sounded like this in years.

He sounds relaxed, confident.

Happy.

You sit rigidly as Namjoon shares an anecdote, to the hilarity of the room.

It’s the final part of his speech that breaks you.

‘I can truly say that I’ve never seen a couple more perfectly matched than Soojin and Alex. I can only hope that all of us have the privilege of experiencing a love like theirs at one point in our lives.’

You can’t help yourself.

You’re staring at him, wondering if he can feel your gaze on him.

Namjoon raises his glass in a toast.

There’s a sigh from the room, followed by a wave of applause.

It’s the perfect ending to the speeches.

Namjoon never once glances your way.

****

You don’t stay for dancing, just exit as quietly and discreetly as you can.

You slip on the beautiful coat you bought just for this wedding, do up the buttons mechanically.

Head out the entrance, sighing with relief when the front of the hotel is empty, save for you.

Well, not quite.

There’s a shifting to your left, you turn just in time to see Yoongi straighten up, ice cubes clinking in his glass as he steps forward, out of the shadows.

‘I didn’t mean to startle you,’ he says mildly.

‘You didn’t,’ you reply. ‘I’ve got an early start tomorrow, I should get going.’

Yoongi nods. ‘Can I give you a ride?’

‘I’ve got a taxi on its way,’ you demur. ‘Besides, I don’t want you to have to leave because of me.’

Yoongi nods again.

Then he gives you a half-smile. ‘Want the rest of my drink?’

You glance at him, surprised.

He holds out the drink to you.

The whiskey goes down smooth, a mellow fire that warms you.

‘Thanks,’ you say. You put your hand on his arm as he takes the glass back. ‘Thanks for tonight.’

Your words brim with meaning, you don’t want to explain but you get the sense he knows, anyway.

He’s been friends with Namjoon for years.

There’s kindness in his eyes as he covers your hand with his, gives yours a gentle squeeze.

The sliding doors to the hotel slide open, but your taxi’s arrived, so you don’t look back.

You get into the cab and breathe the first breath you feel like you’ve taken in hours.

You turn your head to wave goodbye to Yoongi, only to see Namjoon standing next to him.

Your eyes meet for the briefest of moments before the taxi drives you away.

©hamsterclaw 2023

#kim namjoon fic #namjoon x reader #bts fic #namjoon x you

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somedaylazysomeday · 7 months

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A Grand Deception - Part One

As a seamstress, you know your way around a ballgown. A ballroom is a different story, but you are determined to experience it for yourself.

Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Personal Disclaimer: I wrote this having only watched the Bridgerton tv show. About a week ago, I discovered that Benedict's book-canon love story shares some similarities with my fic. These similarities are coincidental. After posting a poll about the topic, I decided to share this work anyway. Please know I am aware of the situation!

Rating: Mature. Minors, do not interact

Word Count: 5,200

Warnings: A lot of backstory, trespassing, lying about identity, alcohol consumption, flirting, references to Regency-era values. Author played fast and loose with rules of Regency dining etiquette.

Next | Masterlist

---

It was of some comfort to you that - when the situation inevitably unraveled - you could not claim to have invented the idea yourself.

You were hardly the first seamstress who used her skills to disguise herself. Nor were you the first to use her overheard knowledge to learn who may be hosting a masquerade ball so she could attend.

To that end, Madame Delacroix had told you of her own experience infiltrating the ton’s events. You had learned well, but you were merely another follower, not a visionary. The penalty for your transgression would not change, but your conscience would be eased slightly with the knowledge.

The single inspiration you could claim as entirely your own was that of your shop. You purchased gowns at the end of every season, researched coming trends for the next season, and altered the gowns to fit.

Ladies of rich and respectable families were willing to part with gowns for a relative pittance, but most of your gowns were from society matrons. When their time playing chaperone to some wide-eyed miss had ended in a successful engagement, the lucky matron retired to a comfortable life in the countryside. What use did she have for extravagant society gowns there? And, with the style of gathers and ruffles for married women, you could easily fashion multiple gowns from one matronly dress.

Your shop was hardly the most popular one in London, but you ran a brisk enough business. There were no investors to keep fat with your profits, and you poured most of your money back into the materials and help you hired. It could tax the nerves to operate with such a small amount of money in your coffers, but such was the nature of the business. The lead-in to a season was incredibly busy and profitable, but the off season could ruin you.

But you were happy. Your work was varied and interesting. You worked with sumptuous fabrics in the richest colors. It was a necessity to keep abreast of the latest fashion trends. You truly could not have imagined a better life for yourself.

And yet… you were unbearably curious about how it would feel to wear one of your creations. You were occasionally hired to style a hopeful debutante, but you handed her off to a chaperone before she walked out through the front door of her own home. You witnessed all of the preparations and you had been party to the aftermath, but you had never had the opportunity to attend a ball.

It was a silly dream. You were the daughter of a tailor, and not one who served the upper echelons of London society. Your mother spent her time running the household herself - a necessity, as your family could not afford to keep servants. Your brother worked at a newspaper, operating the printing presses. Your sister had married well, wedding a butcher who lived above his shop in a respectable section of the city.

You had already achieved one silly dream when you had opened your own shop. Rather than satisfying you, that achievement only convinced you that you were capable of incredible things. Why should a ball be the exception?

Fortunately, the ton was an uninspired thing and thus wholly predictable. At least once every season, at least one family believed themselves to be the most creative souls and hosted a masquerade.

Your ability to foresee the trend had allowed you to plan far in advance. After the last season had ended and you made your purchases, you had bought just enough fabric to fashion yourself a dress. The material was simple, but of high quality, and you had embroidered beading and embellishment enough to allot the finished product an artistic simplicity rather than leaving it painfully plain.

The mask you had chosen only assisted the illusion of being understatedly gilded. It was a shining silver - not a true metallic mask, but a close enough facsimile that it seemed to be a choice due to the weight rather than the price of the silver. There was a delicate tracery over your brow and along the swells where the mask arched over your cheekbones.

The effect of the outfit was far from dramatic, especially when you very well knew the sort of dresses that the young ladies of the ton would be wearing at the ball, but you had been purposeful about it. You were trying to fade into the background, and it seemed likely that you would succeed.

One of your more clever ideas had been to cut the dress as a matronly garment rather than a daring one meant for a debutante. Doing so would relegate you to the realm of mamas, chaperones, and spinsters. Few bothered to steal a second glance at that foreboding cloud of judgment, disapproval, and eager plotting. You were too pragmatic to think your plan foolproof, but you had taken as many precautions as you could imagine.

The Lawsons had been the ones to secure a masquerade theme for the season, and you strategically arrived at the home at eleven, a full hour after the ball had begun. It was a simple thing to slip around the corner of the great manor house, entering through a side corridor. When you passed any of the house’s servants, you ducked your head and nervously arranged your hair.

With that attitude and countenance, they would likely believe you were returning from some secret tryst in a private place, not attempting to sneak in entirely. Servants were paid for their discretion - at least, in the eyes of the ton - so your exploits would not be disseminated until the following morning at the earliest.

Your matron-styled dress allowed for a more flexible corset than the most fashionable styles, but you still found that your breath was short as you reached the ballroom. You were thankful for the music, as it gave you a better idea of where your ultimate goal was.

The room was cavernous, yet filled to the brim with intricate details. A second-story balcony curved around the majority of the room, rather like the opera house you’d had the privilege to visit once. A grand staircase descended from the middle of that balcony, and it was full of still-arriving debutantes and their chaperones.

The orchestra was sat on the balcony along either side of the staircase, and you noted the way each instrument seemed to take precedence in turn as you walked along the length of the floor. They were playing a quadrille at the moment, and the dancing couples seemed as enamored by the music as much as by each other.

Above and all around, candles glowed and flickered, casting small pools of light across every surface. A chandelier hung overhead, eye-catching in its size and brightness. The crystals set among the candles sent tiny reflected rainbows dancing across the crowd beneath. The reflectors behind the candles on the main floor helped catch the brightness that would otherwise be wasted on the walls, throwing it out into the room until it looked near daylight. The effect was multiplied by an array of mirrors set around the room, refracting both light and the furor of activity in the ballroom.

Conversations filled any spaces left in the music. Everywhere, men and women chatted, laughed, and told stories. They were eye-catching with their grand gestures, only made more fascinating with their ornate clothing. You longed for a scrap of paper so you could make note of the styles of this season, and how they might be adapted to meet the styles of the next.

A table at one side of the room was manned by a servant offering refreshments. You knew from the stories you had heard that a supper would be served at one, but there were beverages for any guest or dancer who may need one. You accepted a glass of iced punch with a grateful nod to the servant. It was remarkably hot in the room, especially compared to the chill of the January evening.

Sipping the strong punch - and abruptly understanding the wisdom of such small glasses - you ventured forth to find a vantage point for observing the crowd.

You found one buried in the crowd of matrons and chaperones. They were watching the dance floor with great interest, speculating about matches and comparing notes on how the gentlemen and young ladies had been occupying themselves during the season thus far. It was the perfect location - a view of everything and in earshot of all the information you could possibly desire. Some of the information was likely to be nothing more than rumor, but you cared little. It was entertaining enough to compensate for a lack of veracity.

“Benedict!” one woman called. She was a handsome woman, dark hair perfectly coiffed to match her elegant dress. You recognized her even from behind as the widowed Lady Bridgerton.

A man separated from a group of other young men and approached, smiling expectantly. He bore a strong resemblance to Lady Bridgerton, and was wearing the simple black mask that seemed popular among the men of the ballroom. “Yes, Mother?”

“Do dance with Miss Harper this evening,” Lady Bridgerton instructed. “She needs cheering after the loss of her uncle. And she would be quite an excellent match for you.”

You wrinkled your nose. Arranged marriages were less common than they had been when you were a child, but the aristocracy still tended to take a heavy hand in deciding their children’s future spouses.

Unfortunately, the young Bridgerton glanced over his mother’s shoulder and took in your expression. You hurriedly glanced down at your glass, as if your face had been a reaction to the strong punch, then applied yourself to staring around the room.

“I will take that under advisement, Mother,” Benedict said. Your wayward glance prevented you from seeing his face, but his voice was filled with laughter. “If you’ll excuse me?”

He departed then, retreating back across the ballroom. However, you were far from unobservant, and you counted the multiple times he noted your position from among the group of laughing gentlemen. You did your utmost to ignore him, taking solace in the knowledge that your mask protected your identity from whatever scrutiny he may choose to apply.

You could hardly pretend surprise when you found him standing beside you scarcely an hour after you had overheard the conversation between Lady Bridgerton and her son. He was facing quite the opposite direction, but you could not fail to miss the way he inched closer every time you took a step away.

At long last, he bumped into you with his broad shoulder, sloshing your punch onto the floor and still refusing to acknowledge you.

“And to think Bridgertons are said to be well-mannered,” you snipped waspishly.

He glanced back at you, eyes bright. “I beg your pardon, miss. I did not see you. Allow me to fetch you a new glass of punch in recompense for my rudeness.”

“No, thank you,” you said, the coldness in your voice detracting from the politeness of your words. “I would not take the risk of another incident.”

“Did it stain your gown?” he asked, taking your elbow and looking you up and down. However solicitous it may have seemed at first, the mischief in his expression belied the gesture.

You glared at him until he dropped your arm. “You need not feign concern, Lord Bridgerton. You have apologized, I have accepted it, and my gown escaped the incident unscathed. There is no need to continue our acquaintance.”

With a final frown for good measure, you turned away. Benedict seemed undaunted, keeping step with you as you found a servant to take your near-empty glass.

“May I ask your name, then?” Benedict asked, for all the world like you had not dismissed him.

“Lady Sharp.”

It was a falsehood you had planned well in advance. The Sharps were one of the largest families in London, some branches so far-flung that no one seemed capable of remembering who was who.

Despite your confidence in your assumed identity, Benedict paused for a moment and your heart stuttered. At long last, he smiled. “Is that so?”

“Yes.”

Perhaps if you continued to be short with him, Benedict would understand that he should leave you well enough alone.

And yet… The young Bridgerton continued to stay close as you watched the dancers, interrupting your overheard bits of gossip with remarks of his own. His commentary was amusing, but you continued to be irked by his presence. He was drawing attention by standing with the chaperones, dowagers, and doting mothers, and some of that attention was reflected onto you by virtue of proximity.

“You need not remain close as some form of apology, Lord Bridgerton,” you informed him at last. “You have more than adequately apologized for your earlier misstep, and I would rather not be on the receiving end of your mother’s scorn if you miss your dance with Miss Harper.”

Benedict shrugged. “Miss Harper is occupied well enough with other partners. It is my duty to see to it that every lady may dance if she chooses. Shall we?”

You frowned deeply, staring from his face to his proffered arm and back. “I do not dance.”

He paused at that. “Surely you are simply being modest…”

“I assure you, I mean what I say,” you told him, voice appalled, “I do not dance. If you feel a particular urge toward the dance floor, I urge you heed it and find a suitable partner before they have all been otherwise engaged.”

Benedict turned slightly, his gaze traveling from one end of the crowded ballroom to the other. When he had completed the visual circuit, he faced you, grinning engagingly once more. “I appreciate your concern, but I would rather continue our conversation.”

Your mouth fell inelegantly open. Thankfully, the room was called to attention before you could loose a scathing comment about your time together.

Lady Lawson stood at the bottom of her grand staircase, Lord Lawson standing attentively to her left. A servant you recognized as their butler announced in a booming - yet not abrasive - voice, “Lord and Lady Lawson invite you to adjourn to the dining rooms.”

To your dismay, the men and women of the ballroom paired together. The crowd moved steadily in the direction indicated by the butler.

Benedict offered his arm once more. “May I escort you to the dining room, Lady Sharp?”

You paused, frantically searching for a reason you might excuse yourself. If the Lawsons had arranged for their guests to sit in predetermined places, your presence would not only be marked, but commented upon and questioned. And yet, the gathered crowd meant that slipping away would be nigh impossible.

“Lady Sharp?” Benedict asked again, pulling you from your thoughts. “You are attending dinner, are you not?”

“Yes… yes, of course,” you said, immediately belied by your trembling voice. From a sheer lack of options, you accepted Benedict’s arm. “Thank you, Lord Bridgerton.”

He inclined his head as if to silently acknowledge your thanks and steered you into the dining room.

Truly, there was far more than one room in which to dine. There seemed to be at least three hosting tables set with full arrays of silver plates and utensils. The dining areas seemed far less brightly lit than the ballroom was, the low lighting offering a soft intimacy that made the surrounding couples perk with excitement. Clearly, the flirtations of the dance floor would not be suspended due to a simple supper.

“May I help you find your seats, sir?”

You had been too entranced by your own thoughts - the sudden appearance of the servant made you start like a spooked horse. Benedict patted your hand. The gesture was a bit condescending, but you found it oddly soothing. Far more worrisome, however, was the sight of small name cards resting at every place setting on the tables.

“Benedict Bridgerton,” he said. “I believe I was to be seated with my family a few tables behind you. This is Lady Sharp. I will dine with her this evening.”

“But sir…” The servant looked bemused, white brows drawing together. “Lady Lawson was informed that the Sharps would not be in London for this year’s season. Lady Sharp reported that Miss Rosalie Sharp was far too ill to be moved out of her confinement in the countryside.”

You stammered weak protests, but Benedict smoothly interrupted. “Surely Lady Lawson is aware that Lady Clara Sharp decided to winter in London this year. The physician said that a change of scenery would be good after leaving a confinement of her own.”

“A confinement of her-?” The servant shook his head. “My mistress said nothing of this when she was preparing the ball.”

You gathered your nerve. If your ruse were to fall apart, it would not be at the hand of an overly curious servant. You drew yourself up to your full height, giving your best steely-eyed, matronly disapproval. “I had assumed that my lack of an invitation was no more than an ignorant oversight. However, I begin to suspect that it was something far more intentional. Perhaps it would be best if I departed…”

“My apologies, Lady Sharp,” the servant hurried to say. “Please, allow me to find a place for you.”

You inclined your head in the shallowest nod you could muster, watching imperiously as he rushed off to find a place setting for the fictitious Lady Clara Sharp.

“These events are growing less organized by the day,” Benedict confided, shaking his head in mock despair.

The servant returned, sparing you the effort of inventing a response. “I will guide you to your seat, Lady Sharp. Lord Bridgerton, you requested your seat moved beside Lady Sharp’s, did you not?”

“Yes, I believe I should like to dine with Lady Sharp,” Benedict said amiably.

“Very good, sir,” the servant said. “This way.”

You did not particularly enjoy the tone with which Benedict said ‘Lady Sharp’. In his voice, it sounded less like a title and more like a private sort of jest.

Fortunately, your arrival in a far dining room provided a much-needed distraction. This was clearly the last table to have been filled, and as such was seated with an interesting amalgamation of people.

A timid-looking young lady sat nervously adjusting and readjusting the skirt of her dress. Her watchful chaperone eyed the process with fascination and concern. Seated at the chaperone’s other side was an older gentleman who seemed to have overindulged in punch, if you were to guess from his flushed face and exaggerated gestures.

On the other side of the table was a young man who kept glancing at the young lady and pretending that it had been accidental any time he was caught at it. Beside him were two place settings. From the lack of name cards above the plates, you assumed they were meant for you and Benedict.

Abruptly, a wave of vertigo washed over you. You had accomplished so much to be here, yet how many accomplishments were too many? It was as if you had climbed something terribly tall - every time you moved upward, it only left you with further to fall. And if you were to be discovered during this dinner? You would have very far to fall indeed.

“Are you well?” Benedict asked.

You blinked. The servant was holding your chair, waiting to help you be seated. You weren’t hungry in the least, but there was no way to excuse yourself that would not draw more attention than was wise. The only way to return to safety was to continue on as if nothing were amiss.

“Yes, thank you,” you demurred, moving to your seat.

When the skirt of your dress was safely tucked under the table, the servant offered a slight bow and moved away. The first course was laid out on the table, a manservant lingering nearby incase someone required a dish from a different part of the table.

“What may I tempt you with?” Benedict asked. His smile was a touch too wide for the question to be entirely innocent. Before you could say something harsh, he half-stood, fork extended toward a dish holding chilled cuts of meat.

You took a moment to study everything. “Roast chicken, please. And perhaps a few prawns.”

Benedict took your plate and began transferring the items you had requested. “Soup as well?”

“Perhaps a little.”

You eyed the women across the table. The young lady was picking delicately at a few scraps of meat and you were concerned by the quantity of the choices you had made, but her chaperone was tucking into a plate piled high.

Benedict placed your dishes back in front of you and gathered his own selections. When you were both seated again, you cut a piece of chicken and ate it as delicately as you could manage. It was delicious and you congratulated yourself once more on choosing to attend the ball dressed as a chaperone rather than a debutante.

“So, a Sharp in London,” Benedict mused. “I rather believed you all traveled together. Like a herd or a pack.”

You gave him an unamused look at the animal references. “And you pretended to know all of my family’s concerns when we were finding our seats. Do you always lie to achieve your own ends?”

He gave a wince, but it was decidedly playful. “‘Lie’ is such a harsh word, Lady Sharp. I simply choose the path most likely to lead to my destination and follow it.”

“By lying?”

“And I suppose you are a paragon of virtue?” he asked, and you fell silent. It would be rather paradoxical for you to blame him for a lie when you were currently lying to an entire ballroom of people.

“That was not an admonishment,” he clarified after a moment. “Nor was it a bid to halt our conversation. I was enjoying myself.”

“From what I have gathered of your temperament, I doubt you often suffer from the lack of enjoyment,” you snipped. “You seem to find infinite amusement in everything surrounding you.”

Benedict’s eyes widened. “I… am flattered, truly, that you’ve taken such pains to truly detail my character. Perhaps I should return the favor.”

“Do not.” You regretted the warning a moment after you had issued it. Rather than looking dissuaded, Benedict seemed intrigued.

“Indeed, I may be unable to help myself,” he mused. “Your motivations are fascinating, and they would be even more so if you turned out not to be Lady Sharp after all.”

“I am Lady Sharp,” you insisted stubbornly.

“Of course you are,” he agreed easily. “But imagine if you were not. Why would you pretend to be?”

Your mind halted abruptly when faced with the task of imagining your own motivations as if they belonged to another. What should you say? What could you say? For all of his casually friendly demeanor, Benedict was not stupid. It was possible that your false theories of your own motivations would provide him with proof that you were the very person you pretended to understand.

But still, the rules of polite conversation required that you provide some sort of an answer. Your voice was slow as you asked, “Who can begin to guess at the motivations of the poor?”

It was more harsh than you had imagined it would sound, but Benedict did not recoil. Instead, he replied, “Motivations are mysterious, those of the poor and the nobility alike.”

The answer was vague, but you understood why - his eyes were fixed on the young lady at the end of the table and the young man seated across from her.

“Miss Barrett, I found the most interesting flower in the park yesterday afternoon-” he started.

He had the young lady’s attention immediately, a shy smile on her thin face, but her chaperone pointedly cleared her throat before the young lady could reply. “Elisa, it is not proper for you to answer him without being formally introduced.”

“Finnie and I have been friends since before we could walk!” Elisa argued.

“His name is Lord Finlay Spencer,” the chaperone corrected. “And your childhood acquaintanceship does not matter. You have not been officially introduced in the time since he returned to London.”

The young pair fumed silently, with nothing more than frustrated glances shared between them.

“Lady Barrett,” Benedict said abruptly, drawing the attention of everyone who longed to be distracted from the tension. “I understand you are a most loyal patron of the arts. Is that so?”

“It is so, Lord Bridgerton,” Lady Barrett confirmed. “I believe in the importance of preserving artwork for years to come.”

“As do I.” Benedict smiled at her… and at the red-faced man seated to her right. “And our sentiments are shared by our companion, Lord Hopkins. He has recently donated a number of works to your preferred museum. I believe they are to name a wing in his honor.”

Lady Barrett turned to Lord Hopkins, an expression of mingled surprise and admiration. “I recently took in the Hopkins collection. Most impressive, Lord Hopkins.”

Lord Hopkins blinked rapidly, clearly attempting to gather himself. He made an admirable effort as he returned her smile. “You are too kind, Lady Barrett. I mourn the loss of those works, yet they were wasted with only my family to appreciate them. And, if you will pardon my directness, I believe I may have been the only one of the Hopkins family to truly appreciate them.”

“I am certain the Hopkins family has an interest in art ,” Lady Barrett demurred, “though I understand the sense that one has a keener appreciation for art than those around oneself.”

With such a topic brought up, the pair slipped into conversation. Lord Finlay Spencer and Lady Elisa Barrett cast grateful glances in Benedict’s direction and began to speak in softened tones to avoid drawing the attention of the elder Lady Barrett.

“Neatly done,” you complimented lowly. “Yet it prompts me to wonder how often you concern yourself in the affairs of others.”

Benedict shrugged. “I simply enjoy pulling strings to see what unravels. Perhaps that is why I find you so interesting.”

You arched your brows. “And precisely what string of mine do you believe yourself to be pulling?”

“That you are not Lady Sharp, of course.”

He took a sip of wine as you fought to control your expression, and his utter lack of concern was infuriating.

“Are we to continue this thought experiment, then?” you asked at last. “In truth, I am beginning to find it tiresome.”

“I do not need you to confirm my theory,” Benedict told you. “I have gathered proof enough of my own since we met.”

“Proof?” you asked, attempting to sound skeptical rather than afraid.

“You did not wait for an introduction, you claim not to dance, and you did not shyly simper away when I touched your arm,” he listed. “You are no more a lady than I.”

These arguments were presented without censure, but you loosed an inelegant snort regardless. It was foolish and you knew it, but you could not prevent yourself from showing your own powers of observation: “You are wearing a fine silk shirt, a perfectly pressed cravat, and more perfume than anyone else in the room. I am a lady, so it follows that you may be one as well.”

Benedict - unbelievably - grinned at your insults, his eyes crinkling at the edges. You fought not to return the expression, though you found it remarkably contagious. “I believe it is called ‘cologne’ when it is worn by a man. I confess, I’ve never quite understood the difference myself.”

“If you believe I am a fraud, why have you kept me company all evening?” you asked. It was not a confirmation of his suspicions, but it was close enough to make your heart race.

“You are interesting,” he countered. “Certainly the most interesting person here, and among the most interesting people I have ever met.”

You would have found a reason to cut the conversation short if Benedict had pressed for any further information, but he did not. Instead, you continued speaking plainly together through the remaining courses. He wanted to learn your opinions on all manner of things, from politics to the latest fashions.

When the time came to return to the dance floor, he stayed close. He was charming and amusing, but refused to be parted from your side. It could have been cloying, but you privately thought him akin to a particularly amiable sort of burr.

After a few dances had passed, Lady Bridgerton approached, nodding to you with an assessing sort of look. However, she spoke to her son rather than question you. You were grateful for the slight. “Benedict, I believe I asked you to dance with Miss Harper.”

“You did, Mother,” Benedict agreed, “but Lady Sharp and I are speaking of important matters. I could not possibly tear myself away.”

Lady Bridgerton gave him a look filled with motherly disapproval and you cleared your throat. “Lord Bridgerton, we may speak at another time. The number of dances at this ball is limited and the hour grows late. I fear Miss Harper will be fully occupied if you delay longer.”

Lady Bridgerton turned, triumphant, to her son. Benedict sighed and bowed shallowly in your direction. “I beg your pardon, Lady Sharp. I look forward to continuing our conversation after this dance.”

He wove his way through the crowd, presumably in the direction of Miss Harper. Lady Bridgerton remained by your side, and you glanced at her in the silence. She met your gaze, tilting her head curiously in a manner that reminded you of her son. “I do not believe we have met, Lady Sharp. I am Lady Violet Bridgerton.”

You returned her nod with one of your own. “Lady Clara Sharp. Lovely to meet you.”

“I was unaware that any of the Sharp family were in London this season-” she started. Thankfully, she was interrupted by the arrival of a dark-haired young lady.

“Mama, I need to speak with you-”

“Eloise, I am not-”

“Mama, please!” the girl insisted, tugging at her mother’s elbow. Lady Bridgerton studied you for another moment before giving an apologetic smile and allowing her daughter to pull her away.

As cues went, it was a fairly clear one. You steadily worked your way through the crowd until you could slip into an unguarded hall. From there, it was a simple thing to leave the Lawson house, find the cloak you had stored in a disused shed, and travel back to your shop.

When you had removed the mask and the dress, you took careful stock of the evening. The dress and mask would need to be destroyed, and you regretted not bidding a true farewell to Benedict Bridgerton, but you considered the endeavor a success.

One that could never be repeated.

---

Author's Note - As usual with Fanfic February fics, this is a two-parter. Tomorrow's chapter will have spice in it, so please be warned.

Thanks for reading!

#fanfic february #fanfic february 2024 #bridgerton #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x you #fem!reader #reader #reader insert #reader insert fanfiction #reader insert fanfic #reader insert fic #not suitable for minors #minors dni

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bunny-bear-blogs · 10 months

Text

Starstruck

Synopsis: A month ago, Lesser Lord Kusanali announced that Sumeru would be having its very first masquerade ball. She explained that it would take place in the Palace of Alcazarzaray and set two ground rules. Rule number one: no one is allowed to take off their masks at the event. Rule number two: you can only give hints about one's identity and are allowed to guess so. She exclaimed that the event would be fun, and she encouraged everyone to attend.

Word Count: 2475

A/N: I loved the concept of this :>

Since knowing the news of the masquerade ball, you have been running around town to find the perfect ball gown and mask to hide your identity. You were excited for the upcoming event, almost putting it above everything, except your feelings for him. You wondered if he would be attending the ball too. Who was he? It was the Wanderer; he was your partner for a big project within the Akademiya. During the time you both were working together, you two managed to grow closer, becoming friends, with residual feelings lingering on your side. At first, all you could think about was how insufferable he was and how you would have wished to get another partner. However, as time went on, all you could think about was how grateful you were to have him as your partner and how you couldn’t go a day without him being around. Hence, to why you were wondering if he would be at the ball. Everyone in Sumeru was supposed to be at the ball; that’s why you were hoping he would be too. You hadn’t seen the Indigo hair boy since the Dendro Archon’s announcement. It was as if he had disappeared without saying a word. You went asking around, during the time of his disappearance, from people in the Akademiya to people you would meet on the street, but no luck. The boy was gone from your sight.

The day of the ball came, and you had rushed home early to get ready. Your theme for the ball was to have something inspired by the stars. You had picked out a gorgeous blue-gray dress to wear to the ball. It was a sleeveless long gown with different sections of tulle decreasing as the gown went down. The top was corset-like, with the top part of it being the dress color and the bottom of it being embedded with small little stars. You did your hair as you planned and placed some small diamond stars on it. Your shoes were beautiful heels comparable to those of Cinderella, and then you put on your mask, the most important part of the ball. It was a white mask with outlines of blue around the eyeholes. It had blue embedded leaves on it with small pink stars on the corner, followed by pearls around and strings of gold at the end. You were all set to go to the ball; you felt content with your style choices. So, you really should be happy, but you left home with a heavy heart, wondering if you would find the Indigo eye boy today.

You had arrived at the ball, making your way through the palace doors. Walking in, you could see the archon mingling with her people, who seemed to be having a grand time. There was music blasting, and you could see the people dancing along. You then noticed a very familiar fox boy who had green hair leading back to his black roots talking with a white haired red-eyed male on the dance floor. You could hear one of them commenting on the other dance moves and the other saying to just go with it. You then saw the fox boy sigh and agree to dance. It was pretty easy to guess who those two were after hearing that conversation. Then, as you walked over to the buffet, you heard two men arguing. They were arguing about the architecture of the palace, with the blonde hair boy going on and on about the historical value while the gray hair boy brought up the other living situation. You did not want to get involved in this quarrel, so you continued walking until you found a balcony at the palace.

The balcony was peaceful and had a clear view of the stars, which were just what you wanted to see. I mean, after all, you had based your whole outfit on the stars. You were admiring the view when you saw something from the corner of your eye that caught your attention. An indigo-haired boy walked to stand beside you on the balcony. He wore an outfit inspired by the stars. In his hair were a star hair pin and gold-dangling star earrings. He wore a purple top with a star in the middle, and then it was as if two fabrics crossed his chest, one being white and the other a mixture of purple and black. His shorts were purple, with a white, thin rope going across with a dangling, small star attached. Speaking of stars, it was a beautiful mix of purple and gold with small stars spread across. It was easy to say that the boy was breathtaking. You were starstruck just looking at him. It was as if he was the brightest star in the world.

“I like your outfit.”

He turned to face you, flashing a mesmerizing smile that made your heart skip a beat.

“Thank you. Can I ask your name?”

“I can’t do that, mister; remember the rules of the ball?”

"Aha, smart girl; well, smart for a mortal.”

That word, "mortal," It sounded just like something the Wanderer would say. It would explain the man’s indigo hair and eyes that matched. But that’s just a theory; after all, you don’t know for sure if that was him. I mean, he's been missing, remember?

“Mortal? You sound like someone I know."

You paused, waiting to hear his reaction to your words. Maybe he’d flinch? Or you’d get a telltale sign it wasn’t him.

“I’m not sure what you're talking about, Y/N.”

You froze; he knew who you were! How? What gave it away? You, out of nerves, began to scrunch your nose as a way to further your thinking about what was going on. Thinking rationally, you had never met this man before, so how would he know who you are or how to recognize you? Having limited options, you decided to lie and see how far it would go. Maybe he was just senselessly guessing.

“That’s not who I am; you're wrong star boy.”

“Starboy, is it? Is that my new name? I’d like to believe that my worth is that much higher than a star, one that surpasses even the heavens themselves. Plus, I know it’s you, Y/N.”

“Once again, I’m not Y/N; I’m someone else, and you won’t know my identity, okay?"

Then the starboy next to you turned to face you, grabbing your hand in the matter, and spoke confidently with his words, so confident that after they were said, a pink blush spread across his face.

“I know your Y/N because of your mannerisms and tone of speech. Like how you scrunch your nose when you're nervous or use your hands a lot when you talk. It’s small things like that that I know your Y/N."

You were shocked. This was definitely someone you knew, but who? His hair matched that of the Wanderer, but he had been missing for a month; it couldn't possibly be him.

“Fine, I admit defeat, but you recognizing all that means you're definitely someone I know.”

"Well, that's for a mortal like you to find out."

He was cocky, making it seem like a challenge to find out his identity.

“Well, according to the rules of the ball, I can ask you questions about your identity. Isn't that correct?”

"I didn't know a mortal like you could read, but yes, that is correct.”

Choosing to ignore his insult, you thought carefully about what questions to ask him that could confirm his identity.

“My first question is, have I met you personally?”

He feigned innocence on the question.

“I mean maybe or maybe not. It’s up to you to find out Y/N.”

“Don’t call me that out loud; people aren't supposed to know others' identities.”

"Stargirl, it is then.”

"Well, then answer my question, for real this time.”

“Fine, I do know you, stargirl, quite well, actually.”

“My second question is, do you attend the Akademiya?”

“Nope, I’m not answering personal questions like that. That would make it easy for me to find out, and we don’t want that, do we? I won’t answer super personal questions like that, and you just wasted a question.”

“What? That’s not fair. I didn’t know.”

“That’s common sense, stargirl. But, since I’m so generous, I’ll give you five questions.”

Ugh. He was infuriating, but you had faith you could still do this.

“My third question is, why did you choose to center your outfit around the stars?”

“I believe the stars are capable of making great things happen, such as making wishes come true and bringing people together. Not that it’s any mortal like you’s business, but there is someone I’d like to be brought together with.”

He seemed shy saying this, but it was a step closer to his identity.

“Now, my fourth question: do you like cats?”

“I will admit, I do enjoy their company.”

Now it was time for your fifth and final question. It was this or nothing; you had to think carefully about what you would ask the male, and then you got it.

“Starboy, are you in love?”

“Love?”

“Are you in love with someone?”

“I’m in love with you, stargirl.”

Your heart stopped. What if this really was the Wanderer? He matches the answers to the questions you asked. But is the Wanderer in love with you the way you are with him? However, before you could respond to the boy, he ran off. You ran with all your might to catch up to him. He was only a few seconds ahead of you, which doesn't seem hard to catch up to, but with heels, it was. You were running and, at this point, shouting for him.

“Starboy! Come back”

No response.

“Please, listen to me!"

No response yet again.

He was already going down the stairs. You then had an idea. Well, a gamble, hoping it was true that he did love you as he said he did.

"Hey, Starboy, look up at me!"

You then waved your arms and jumped down the stairs, shutting your eyes and bracing for impact. You hoped this boy actually loves you enough to save you. Then you felt warmth; he had saved you. You were in his arms as he carried you bridal style.

“You idiot! What if I wasn't here to catch you or didn’t look back.”

“That was a gamble I was willing to take.”

"Well, don’t do that ever again. You're always doing dumb stuff like this at the Akademiya or when we go out to eat. Like that one time you fell into a river trying to save a cat or when you fell into a bookshelf trying to get a book you wanted me to try.”

He then swiftly covered his mouth, a red blush spreading across his face like fire.

“Wanderer?”

“No, that's not me; you must have confused me with someone else.”

“No, it is you. You're the only one who was around me at that time. It’s you, Wanderer; that’s your identity.”

"Maybe I am him, okay?”

You were right! You felt content knowing now that the boy you love, loves you back, but it begs the question. Why did he leave?

“Wanderer, why did you disappear for a month? You left me alone for a month without contact. It was so lonely, and so many bad thoughts ran through my head during that time.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I know my explanation might not help, but I do have one. You see, I have close relations with the Dendro archon, so for the month I was helping her set up for the ball. I meant to tell you; I just didn’t know how, and when I figured it out, I felt it was too late. So, I was just watching you from afar for a while. I’m really sorry, Y/N; I should’ve been better.”

“It’s okay; it just better not ever happen again.”

You chuckled at his response, then reached up to lift up his mask. You saw his gorgeous face; this was your indigo hair boy. You then broke out into a smile and lifted up your mask—not that it made a difference since he already knew who you were.

“Also, going back to your love confession earlier. I love you too, dummy. I have for a long time now.”

He was stunned that you had actually returned his feelings.

“You love me?”

“Yes, I do more than anything.”

“Y/N, there was another reason my outfit was star-themed; I wanted to match with you and hoped that us dressed as two stars would bring us together. Y/N, you're my star; you light up my world, and you have ever since you came into my life. I want to be with you forever, united as lovers, because I truly do love you.”

You felt starstruck by his love confession; it was so full of love.

“I want to be your lover too.”

“Then let’s make it official.”

He then turned, moving closer to you, and placed one hand on your cheek.

“May I?”

You nodded eagerly, excited for what was to come.

He then kissed you; it was the perfect moment, and you two could practically feel each other smiling. After a few minutes, he pulled away from you, smiling, and then back again, until you both ran out of breath. He then put you down from his arms and placed his hand into yours.

“Shall we get back to the ball?”

“Yes!.”

You both then walked back to the ball hand in hand, with a new love brought between you both by the stars.

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venus-haze · 11 months

Text

Celebrity Skin (Thomas Hewitt x Reader)

Summary: Your rollercoaster of a film career comes to its untimely end when you end up on Thomas Hewitt’s cutting room floor. He hopes you’ll be as much of a fan of his work as he is yours.

Note: Female reader, implied to be older than Thomas, but no other descriptors are used. This is mostly from Tommy’s perspective and extremely dark and bleak, so look at the warnings before deciding whether or not you want to read this. Do not interact if you’re under 18 or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 2k

Warnings: DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT. Explicit and implied non-con, mentions of animal death and cannibalism, kidnapping, Hoyt is pretty much his own warning. Implied major character death. Hurt no comfort. No happy ending. Do not interact if you’re under 18.

Hollywood was never going to see you again. No one would, as a matter of fact. That much had been set in stone as soon as you sped through Fuller, Texas. Ghost town. Full of nobodies and hicks. A pass-through on the road trip you’d treated yourself to after landing a movie with Paul Newman. He’d never see you again, either.

Almost as soon as you passed the county line, going 60 in a clearly marked 45, sirens blared behind you, and you cursed as you pulled over. You should’ve never pulled over.

“Got a good one for ya here Tommy,” Hoyt said, slapping the meat of your thigh as he presented you to the hulking man. “Says she’s some kinda actress.” He leaned in close to your face, a mean grin on his own. “Sure good at actin’ like she don’t want it.”

Your lips were split, dried blood and semen on your mouth and face. Could barely manage a snarl at his uncle, but you tried.

“Bet you’re gonna taste real sweet, pumpkin,” Hoyt taunted, smacking his lips before pushing you to Thomas.

You didn’t cry or scream as Thomas dragged you down to the basement. Hoyt beat that out of you already. Mean and vicious on the side of the road, or maybe in the back of his squad car. Didn’t matter. You were all but resigned to your fate until Thomas laid you down on his butcher’s block, securing you to it with the usual metal cuffs, deftly hammered in place. You only began struggling when you caught a glimpse of the knives and blades displayed prominently throughout his workshop. Too late.

Thomas paused, staring at your face, screwed up in pathetic agony as you begged him for mercy you wouldn't receive. Recognized it from somewhere. You had looked different, though. Face made-up, eyes glistening, hair perfectly styled. Like a dream.

He leaned in closer, and you blinked, teary-eyes transporting him back to his youth. Unforgiving summer breaks where he’d wake up early to help out on the farm before the heat of the day settled in. Sometimes his mama would scrounge up some change for him to go to Fuller’s lone movie theater in the afternoon. ‘Get a break from this heat, honey.’ She knew full well that wasn’t what drew him there. The darkness, the anonymity, for once everyone else was faceless and hidden like him. He wasn’t the main attraction, not even the sideshow.

It’d been years since he stepped foot in that theater. Slowly stopped going after Hoyt got him the job at the slaughterhouse. Just like that, though, he remembered you. A film noir wherein you were cast as the leading lady to a man who may as well have been old enough to be your father, but you looked like you loved him. Especially when you cried for him, tears sparkling as they silently, regally rolled down your pretty face one by one.

Over time, femme fatales fell out of fashion, and so had you not long after he’d stopped going to the movies. He’d catch glimpses of you, though. Staring at him from the cover of magazines like a star-crossed lover whenever you had a new movie coming out, less frequent as time went on. He was barely sixteen when he swiped a copy of Modern Screen, your enticing, full-color portrait on the cover, chock-full of interviews, gossip, and most importantly, photos. A ball gown and come-hither stare. Lounging half-naked poolside. In a skimpy black dress with a fox fur piece draped around your neck, cigarette holder between your pretty lips as you leaned over a bar, your cleavage nearly spilling out from your dress.

That one had made him feel funny. Made his pants tighter around the crotch as his imagination ran wild. Thought about presenting you with a cat pelt he’d skinned and sewn up himself. Instead of running and screaming in fear like the girls at school, you’d accept it graciously, wearing it like the fine fox fur. A gentle hand on his chest, simpering eyes as you asked softly how you could ever repay him because he was your leading man. A kiss on his cheek, and then more. So much more.

Back then, he never considered how pretty you’d look when you cried for him. Grabbing a nearby pair of rusty scissors, he cut through your clothes, damp from sweat and spit and god knew what else, stuck to your skin. He peeled them off of you, unwrapping his once in a lifetime gift and wasting no time in touching your bare stomach that seized beneath his touch. His hands drifted upward, taking each of your soft breasts in his big hands, rough and calloused from years of hard labor. He brushed his thumbs against your nipples, raised from exposure to the cool air in his basement hovel. Pinching one between his fingers, he tugged on it, eliciting a whimper from you as the skin painfully stretched to its limit until he finally let go.

Frustrated by your barrage of pleas and protests, he grabbed a nearby rag and shoved it in your mouth. You gagged, senses overwhelmed by the taste of rancid blood and unidentifiable bodily fluids. He pressed his fingers against your abused cunt, marveling in the wetness as you whined like a stupid little deer that’d gotten its leg blown off during the hunt, strained bleating to be put out of its misery with a bullet to the head or a snap of its neck.

He growled, pressing his masked lips to yours, the friction from the leather re-opening the cuts that had split along your lips. You choked on your makeshift gag, tears streaming down your dirty face. He was almost dizzy. Or maybe he was in love–sweaty palms, racing hearts, an animalistic urge to possess, to mark, to maim.

Hoyt was the one who eventually caught him with the magazine. Being a bit too loud, he supposed. Instead of the tongue lashing he’d been expecting, he received a proud pat on the back instead, ‘Nothin’ to be ashamed of Tommy. You’re a man. ‘s natural after all,' Hoyt said. 'Try to keep it quiet ‘round mama, though. She still thinks you’re innocent.’

Innocent. Despite how much his mama tried, he hadn’t been innocent in a long time. You hadn’t been either. Your romantic trysts were in headlines or discussed on radio gossip programs. Those had been frequent, and his brow furrowed as he wondered who the hell you were to deny him. Hollywood floozy. Too good for him, just like every other woman.

He unzipped his pants, pulling his length from his pants and feeling himself growing harder at your muffled screams of protest. His size. He knew he was big, far too big for you to handle, but you’d make it work. As if you had any other choice.

Stroking his length with one hand, he scratched at your belly with his blunt nails on the other hand, shuddering at the fleeting thought of you bigger, pregnant with his child. With a ragged breath, Thomas positioned his cock in front of your aching cunt, reveling in your whines as he pushed in just the tip, feeling you strain around him, warm and soft. ‘I love you, Tommy,’ you had purred in his fantasies. ‘I want you to make me yours. Give me everything.’

He grunted as he buried his length deeper in you, a high-pitched squeal in return. His face felt hot beneath his mask, his cock twitching as your pussy clenched around him. You wanted it. You wouldn’t be so wet and pliant if you didn’t. Grabbing your hips, he slammed his hips against yours, burying his face in your neck, feeling how your throat strained to express your pain despite the gag. How easily he could grab a nearby knife and cut through the tender flesh, knowing just where to slice so he could watch your blood pour out of you, probably sparkling and pretty like your tears. It was perfect, you were perfect. Better than he’d ever imagined.

Pressing his body weight against you, he pinned you further, your twisting torso trapped in place beneath him as he relentlessly pounded into you, his huge cock pushing your cunt to its limits, and even further than that when he hit your cervix. Your tears poured down your cheeks, blood trickling between your legs. He was so close, he could almost reach out and touch it.

He wanted to keep you around. Wasn’t sure how he could make an appeal to mama or Hoyt, though. Probably useless around the house, let alone the farm, just a pretty face for his own amusement. ‘Another mouth to feed,’ he could practically hear Hoyt snarl. He still felt bad about Uncle Monty, now he was a burden on mama and Hoyt too. Making an exception for you would be far too much to ask. Besides, he never had luck keeping pets growing up. Was always too rough with them, too morbidly curious. Maybe it’d be different with you.

Glancing at the chainsaw beside him, he slammed into you again, his dark gaze fixed on the blood-rusted power tool.

No. It wouldn’t be. Because being this deep inside you made him only want to go deeper, see the extent of his love. Watch your heart beating in your chest for him. Stand over you as you bled out, rib cage cracked open in the ultimate display of vulnerability. You’d provide for his family, and he’d savor every moment, every bite that touched his lips, feeling you inside him. It was the only way. You’d be a part of him forever. Till death do you part.

He came with a loud groan, a primal howl muffled by his mask. Your abused pussy milked his cock until his seed spilled inside you, and his length became soft again. Laying his head on your heaving chest, he listened to your heartbeat. Rapid like a little mouse.

Nuzzling his face against your breasts, he settled against your warm skin, basking in it while he still could. You’d be even warmer once he opened you up. All too familiar with that sensation. He closed his eyes, though, imagining you lovingly running your fingers through his hair, a sweet, fucked out smile on your face. But there was no place for a man like him in Hollywood, and no place for a woman like you in Fuller. Star-crossed. What a shame.

You had stopped making noises through your gag, either too exhausted or simply resigned to your fate, only whimpering when he finally pulled out of you, your pussy feeling almost painfully empty. Eyes glazed over, they fluttered shut for a moment, but opened as soon as his hand caressed your cheek, pulling the rag from your mouth.

He watched silently as you sucked in a much needed breath, bringing on a coughing fit with how dry your throat was. You dissolved in a fit of sobs that echoed in this vast underbelly of terror, exacerbated by his attempt to kiss your forehead, pressing the leather against the deep lines in your distressed face. You struggled weakly, fruitlessly against the metal cuffs that secured you to the table.

Unlike in your movies, there was no one to save you this time, no gruff private eye or surly police chief to come in guns blazing at the last minute. Hoyt had already made you well aware he was no admirable man of the law. You were lucky to have ended up with Thomas. He thought the screams that came from the women Hoyt kept around–albeit temporarily–were more difficult to listen to than that of someone he was disembodying.

Sadistic. Thomas never considered himself such, but he understood the appeal of ravaging, tearing apart in a display of power that never failed to send adrenaline running through his veins. He would savor your demise, his magnum opus, unable to imagine someone else coming along and piquing his interest as much as you had.

He revved the chainsaw, taking in your raw screams as he raised it over his head. Lamented not having a camera around to capture how perfect you looked awaiting your end at his hands. It’s what you were made for. His movie star on the cutting room floor.

#thomas hewitt x reader #tommy hewitt x reader #leatherface x reader #slasher x reader #leatherface #thomas hewitt #texas chainsaw massacre #texas chainsaw massacre 2003 #texas chainsaw massacre the beginning #slasher fandom #slasher community #tcm

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ldysmfrst · 3 months

Text

Was it Fate?

This is a reader request by @bethanysnow, who holds membership to my Patreon. Her request is as follows:

"I have a request~ what about San from Ateez getting paired up on a variety show with a designer that is getting popular in South Korea?? For plus size fashion? And I can totally see him just falling head over heels for her~ ^-^"

This is my first ever Reader Request, and I am more than happy to fulfill it as Bethany has been my main support for my story, American Mate!

Pairing: Idol!San x Plus-sized FemReader

Status: Reader Request, One-shot

Word Count: 11,194

Genre: Variety Show Fluff

Warnings: None

Thank you to @cyaspeedy and @animatedglittergraphics-n-more for this story's artwork and banners.

As a plus-sized woman, you intimately understood the challenges of finding stylish and comfortable clothing. The sleek jumpsuits, the simple evening gowns, and the flowy summer dresses that were supposedly one-size-fits-all never quite fit the bill for you. It was this personal struggle that sparked your realization that clothes were an art form, and you were ready to create your masterpiece.

Your decision to launch a clothing line exclusively for plus-sized women was a game-changer. It was a mission that resonated with many, and it took numerous visits with investors and hours of hand sewing before your line took off. The unexpected support from the long-standing House of Schiaparelli propelled your mission to new heights. While the House of Schiaparelli offers women the essence of bold style and timeless allure, your mission was clear–“Everybody deserves clothes they feel good in.”

Your brand's success was a whirlwind. In just 11 months, 17 days, and 18 styles later, you had a summer line ready to go. Your diligence and unique aesthetic caught the attention of some of the nation's top photographers and production directors. Once you pitched the idea to the producing director, it only took a few days to get the ball rolling.

Like most advertisements, you were blessed to work with some of the top Idols. However, unlike most brands that stuck with just one Idol or one Idol group, you wanted some from different groups because it supported your ideals of inclusion. Your concept was a couple having a date at a cat cafe; your love of furry pets is never-ending, which is reflected not only in your design but also in the ads.

While you had been a fan of K-pop music for many years, you found it easy to work with the different Idols. BamBam from GOT7 ended up adopting a cat from the cafe. Lisa from BlackPink surprised many, but her love for cats and the group's support for the LGBTQ+ community perfectly fit your brand's mission to include everyone. However, it was shocking that your advertisement also included Lee Know of Stray Kids and Yoongi from BTS.

Soon, your commercial played on screens nationwide, from Doota Mall to Starfield COEX Mall and even Lotte Department Store.

“Alright, can we please stick together this time?” Hongjoong requests the other members. “We really don’t want to leave Wooyoung at the mall again.”

“Hey! That was a one-time thing, captain!” whines Wooyoung, making the others laugh.

Shopping with the other members was always easier for San. Despite his onstage presence, he was, is, and will always be an introvert. San has often seen videos of the group with remarks about Ateez being out and about and San looking more like their manager rather than another member.

This fact makes San proud because he is all about being comfortable and looking good. Yeah, he wears clothes onstage to showcase himself for Atiny, and he loves it. In his everyday life, though, he likes to be comfortable in baggy hoodies and pants, loose shirts, and things that make him feel good but not showy.

Mosing around the mall with the other members, having already bought what he came for, San sees a new ad with Lee Know. Having worked with Stray Kids during Kingdom: Legendary War, he became close with Minho and Felix. Now that he thinks about it, Minho mentioned a new job that he thought San would be perfect for, but he was out of the country at Coachella and couldn’t join.

Stopping to watch the ad as it replays, the most angelic voice comes over, explaining this was the laugh of a new line called “Byeol” by Y/n, which is exclusively making a one-size-fits-all for plus-sized women. The clothing is eye-catching and flattering. The concept of the ad is charming, and at the end of the ad is you.

Your hair and makeup are done simply while you are wearing a lovely pant jumper that showcases the curves of your hips, the thickness of your thighs, and the beauty of your bare shoulders. When you say the closing statement, “Byeol, a plus-sized clothing line to make any woman a star because everyone deserves clothes they feel good in,” a smile seals the deal for San.

The visual component of the ad showcasing his friend and a lovely plus-sized woman in a summer dress at a Cat Cafe is long forgotten. The only thing of importance is you, the one who has stolen his breath and heart.

What San also forgets is the rest of his group. It doesn’t take long before Wooyoung realizes the dance master is missing, “Where did San go?”

“Dude, its either you or him that always gets sidetracked by shiny things. Hwa, can you find him please?” Hongjoong asks.

“Fine, but I am taking Woo with me. I swear he has a built-in San finder.” Grabbing the member mentioned, the two go off to find San, “Meet you back at the van!”

Turning a few corners, the two find San staring at the ad as it replays. Wooyoung bumps into San, “Hey San, what's up why did you stop?”

Breaking the stupor he had fallen into, San looks at the two members with a huge blushing smile, “Oh sorry, I just… well, look.” He points to the ad, drawing the attention of his best friend/soulmate and Seonghwa. Once you appear on the screen, it clicks. Both of them snap their attention back to San to watch his face light up and blush color his cheeks.

“Oh, I see what stopped you. The pretty designer has caught our Sannie’s attention, I see,” remarks Seonghwa teasingly. Wiggling his eyebrows at the younger member, he said, “Y/n, I haven’t heard of that name before.”

“She is new. This is her first line of clothes called ‘Byeol,’” San says while watching you on the ad, wanting to memorize everything he can.

“She named her line the same name as your cat? Do you think she is an Atiny?” Wooyoung asks.

“I don't know, but I wanna shoot myself for not pushing for that ad campaign that Minho tried to get me on. I think it was this one. I could have met her, spoken to her even.” San laments.

“Maybe Minho has a way to contact her, ya know? We are able to get in touch with our brands. I am sure he has a way.” Hwa, always the mother, says with hope.

“That’s right! I have to call him!” San lights up.

“But first let’s get out of here before people start wondering why three guys are staring at women’s clothes and word gets out that we are pervy, okay?” Hwa pushes the other playfully.

Several days have passed, and San is no closer to finding you than he was standing in the mall. Calling Minho had been a bust because, unlike most brands, your brand didn’t want to have long-term ambassadors. Minho mentioned that you seemed to live simply and cared for everyone there like they were your family. Paying for everything, and even holding a party at the end for everyone where you gave everyone a red envelope.

While he loved hearing how generous and caring you were, he did not love Minho’s affectionate tone whenever he talked about you. Was he interested in you, too, or was it just because of the great experience? Oh no, what if you had someone already? What if you didn’t want an Idol? What if you wanted someone like Lisa?

While it drove his bandmates up the wall, San pretty much had all of your advertisements running on replay, but now he was driving himself up the wall without being able to find a way to contact you. You had no social media accounts, your brand’s website was simplistic, and the contact number was for a messaging service. At this point, if it wasn’t for Minho seeing you, one might think you were AI.

Ring Ring

“Hello?”

“Hey Sannie, it’s Felix.”

“Oh hey, Lix. I am not really in the mood to chat right now.”

“Yeah, I know. Minho and Woo mentioned you have been really down lately because you cannot find Y/n, right?”

“Seriously, they are telling other people?”

“We all care about you, Sannie. Especially Woo, and you should know that. But I think I may have good news for you. Woo said something about you guys taking a small break to get ready for your world tour right?”

“Yeah. Captain thought it would be a good idea. Be fresh and ready for Atiny in America. But what does that have to do with anything?”

“Would you be interested in doing something solo for half of that time? Say a variety show with me and Y/n?”

“No way! How? When?”

“The producers just booked me yesterday, and I happened to run into Y/n and found out she was going to join it as the ‘new up and comer.’ Something about trying to show the world that there are things worse in life than being chubby.”

“That is great! But Lix, how am I going to get on?”

“It turns out S. Coups from Seventeen was supposed to join, but his knee hasn’t healed enough, and now they are short an Idol. So, I may have dropped your name. They should be reaching out soon, and filming starts at the end of next week. Just a heads up.”

“LIXXIE! No way! I have to pack, I have to get a hold of my manager, I have to… I have to go!”

“Bye Sannie see you next week I guess.”

~One-on-one Interview with Y/n~

“Okay, sit there and face the camera. It will be a simple interview. You got this,” the MC, who you recently learned is Sung Hanbin from the new K-pop group ZeroBaseOne.

Nodding, you sit down, the production team milling around while fixing things like hair, makeup, wardrobe, and who knows what else. “Sorry, this is my first time doing anything even close to this.”

“Not to worry. You were requested by almost everyone here because of your ad campaign and the high marks you got for your debut line. This is my first time hosting a variety show, so we can both have our first together. Let’s start. Fighting”

The lights around the set dim, leaving you and Hanbin in bright stage lights.

“Hello and welcome to YouPlusMe, the newest variety show where up-and-comers take on challenges with some of the industry's most famous idols. Let us meet one of the “newbies.” She has taken the fashion world by storm with her bubbly personality, strong values, and unwavering determination. It’s time to be the powerhouse behind The house of Y/l/n and the mastermind of “Byeol”, Miss Y/l/n Y/N.”

“Hello! Everyone! I am excited and nervous to be here. I am Y/n. Thank you for all your upcoming support in my first variety show adventure.”

“Miss Y/n, it’s been only a week since your launch and you are already the talk of the town. What makes Byoel so interesting?”

“I think my mission statement and line challenges the conservative fashion views not only here but around the world. Being the talk of the town, as you put it, has brought both positive and negative conversations. I believe that you can be healthy and beautiful without being skinny and petite.”

“What a powerful statement. You are clearly a model for your work and have already stolen the hearts of many. You worked with some very powerful idols for your ad and I have a letter from one of the Idols you worked with, ‘Y/n-ah, Your beauty comes not only from your smile but from your heart as well. I cannot wait for the world to see the diamond that you truly are. I enjoyed working with you and cannot wait to see where you go. Always your supporter, Min Yoongi.’”

A blush creeps up your neck. “Oh my! Mr. Min was a pleasure to work with. Actually, all of the idols who worked on the campaign were professional and seemed to support my ideals.”

“Did you have a favorite idol?”

“Lee Know was the easiest to work with, which I thought was odd. As a card-carrying Stay, he really was down to earth, and once he warmed up, it was nice to see that he wasn’t always the stone-cold Lee Know persona that he is known for.”

“Oh you are a Stay? Did you know that Felix will be joining us?”

“Yes, I did, actually. We met by accident. I was coming and he was going.”

“The show will consist of three teams of two and compete in a series of games. One up and comer matched with one Idol for each team. Wonder if you will be teamed up with one of your Favorite Group Idols.”

“As much as I love Felix-ssi, I don’t know if we would make a good team.”

~One-on-one Interview with Felix~

“She said what? And admitted she is a Stay! Awh… Y/n you break my heart. I guess being an Idol doesn’t save you from that.”

“If you are not on her team, maybe you can use her Stay heart to fluster her into making mistakes.”

“Yeah, no. Lee Know said she gets very focused and didn’t even flutter when she met him. I mean the short meeting we had in the hall, all she did was say hello, introduce herself, and wish me luck in the show. I didn’t even realize she was a Stay.”

“It seems like Y/n is going to be a wild card.”

~One-on-one Interview with San~

“I cannot wait to meet the rest of the contestants for the show.”

“So, San, you were a last moment addition. What made you decide to join on such short notice?”

“Oh, easy, Y/n-shi. I love her clothing line, and once Felix-ah told me she was on this, I knew I had to be here too.”

“Oooo, so have you had a chance to meet Y/n yet?”

“No, I haven’t met anyone else. But hey, I get to work with Felix-ah again after Kingdom and I get to meet Y/n-shi. I say that I am already going to have a good time!”

“I think it’s going to be an interesting show to say the least. We have Felix from Stray Kids, the soloist Eunbi, and San from Ateez for our Idols. For our up and comers we have my ZeroBaseOne bandmate Kim Gyuvin, Ko Chanbin from Namoo Actors, and Y/n CEO of The house of Y/l/n. The teams have been picked by our viewers, so it’s time for them to meet for the first time.”

~Yellow Team Interview~

“Felix-hyung and Chanbin-ah, you were the first team to be chosen by the fans with a whopping 10.8 billion votes. How does that make you feel?” asked MC Hanbin.

“Shocking, really!” Felix says while blushing.

“I wasn’t sure I was going to be picked at all but I guess there are more BL fans out there than I thought. Thank you, everyone for your support,” Chanbin bows humbly to the camera.

“Between Stays and Yaoi fandoms, I am pretty sure we will become a strong team with their love and support guiding us, right Chanbin-ah?”

“That’s right Felix-hyung. We will fight for you!”

~Red Team Interview~

“Waaahh, talk about having the advantage. Both of you debuted with K-pop groups because you were able to survive the shows which created them,” comments MC Hanbin.

“Hanbin-ah, you survived with me too! You tell me if this is an advantage or not,” Gyuvin laughs as he points out his leader is the MC.

“Oh that’s right, you both are part of ZeroBaseOne! You are really new to the music industry Gyuvin-ah. Don’t worry. We survived one show, we can survive another,” Eunbi encourages.

It was almost time to meet your Idol partner. So many of the staff seemed to be giddy about your meeting. You could hear their whispers and giggles, but there were a few sneers and looks of hate. Who were you paired with that would cause this kind of reaction?

“Hey, Y/n-shi, are you ready to go? Oh, is that another one of your pieces?” your assigned manager asks. Today, you decided to wear one of the more classic items in your collection. Your shirt is a crop top that feels like you are wearing a cloud on your sleeves. It’s paired with a black pencil-like skirt with a white scallop edge that starts at your ankle and curves around the front to connect to the opposite hip.

“Yes, it’s from the professional line set to come out in early fall. I thought it would be good for the first meeting. Do you think it’s too much?” you question now, wondering if you are toeing the line of the rules and regulations.

“No, it’s gorgeous. You said it would be available in the fall. I am going to have to watch out for it. I think it would be lovely for my sister,” she praises.

“Oh, before the end of the filming, let me get your number, and I will send you one directly. Thank you for taking care of me!”

“Really? You are so caring, Y/n-shi. Thank you. Now, let’s go before we get behind.”

You walk onto the set and take your seat. Noticing you were the last one, you bow with apologies for your delay, and the interview starts.

Meanwhile, San was the first to arrive on set, his nerves going everywhere. He had learned from Felix that there was now a 50/50 chance that he would be teamed up with you. He wore a simple black suit jacket with black dress slacks and shoes. No one could ever go wrong with black, right?

Next came MC Hanbin, taking his seat with a smile and simple greeting, “Hello San-hyung. Did you know that Gyuvin-ah was on the show too? You met recently right?”

“Oh, he's here too? I didn’t know. Waaa, he would be fun to team up with, but hopefully, he could concentrate. He was so shocked that I was Soft Tofu,” chuckled San.

“He wouldn’t stop talking about it the whole next week. For the sake of my members, I hope you two are not teamed up because he will never stop!”

“Don’t you know who everyone is teamed up with?” San questions.

Hanbin only smiles and nods his head, then follows it with mimicking, zipping his mouth shut.

It takes a few minutes before a slight commotion comes from the side, indicating that the other teammate has arrived. Taking an anxious breath, San looks to see who is coming, only to lose it once you walk around the corner and sit next to him.

“Y/n-shi, glad you made it safely. Any problems?” Hanbin asks, his eyes shifting between you and San.

“Oh no problems. Just wanted to make sure my outfit was approved by PD-nim.”

“You're perfect,” San finally says, his eyes never leaving you.

~Purple Team Interview~

“I think Fate might be playing a hand in matching this team up,” MC Hanbin says, which only confuses you.

“Why do you say that? I am sorry but I really don’t know anyone here but Felix-ssi,” you ask.

“I think it's because of what I said in my one-on-one interview. I mentioned that I knew of your work and joined because of you and Felix-ah.” San says with a slight blush dusting his cheeks.

“Oh, well, you know who I am. Can I know who you are?” you ask, wide-eyed and slightly embarrassed to ask the “famous Idol.”

“Sorry! Of course,” San stands and bows. “I am Choi San, a main dancer of Ateez. It is my honor to meet you, Y/n-shi.”

“Oh, sit down, sit down. I am the new one here, and I should bow to you. I have heard of Ateez, but I am unfamiliar with your work. Sorry.”

“Did you know that Y/n-shi is a card-carrying Stay? She has even gotten to work with Lee Know and met Felix, two out of eight members. Lucky girl. How does it feel not to be recognized, San-hyung?” MC Hanbin asks with a gleam in his eye.

Looking Hanbin dead in the eye, San says, “Y/n-shi may have met and worked with others before me, and that is fine. What matters now is that she is mine.” San glances at you, noticing your tentative smile; he adds, “Go, team!”

~YouPlusMe: Challenge 1 Hunter Hunter~

“Welcome back to YouPlusMe. Today, all the teams are meeting us here at Buggy World in Chuncheon, Gangwon, to play ‘Hunter, Hunter.’ Our teams will not only hunt down other teams and their additional markers but also protect their own.” MC Hanbin walks around showing groups of balloons tied to various trees and ends with the teams wearing protective gear and holding Nerf-like airguns.

Team Purple is San and Y/n, Team Red is Eunbi and Gyunvin, and Team Yellow is Felix and Chanbin.

Both you and San are dressed in similar outfits. He looks like G.I. Joe but in dark purple. You discovered the team colors before you left yesterday and made one of your workout creations meet the requirements. You are wearing black leggings with a few neon purple mesh cut-outs and pockets. Your top, however, was a mix of dark, light, neon, and sparkling purple straps built over a black sports bra and connected with the leggings.

The other teams were also dressed to represent their team colors. You noticed yours was the brightest, but you hadn’t realized that this was a paintball mission or that you would also be a target. Your manager had tried to talk you out of wearing it, but you made it clear that your entire point of joining this show was to showcase your designs and their functionality for the plus-sized fans.

“Are the teams ready?” Mc Hanbin asks, followed by hoots and hollers from the different teams. “Good. Now go to your home bases, and when the horn sounds, it's time to play– Hunter, Hunter.”

Making your way to Team Purple’s home base, you take the chance to look around and notice that you can see Team Yellow’s base from here. “Hey, San-ssi. Yellow is right on the other side of the tree line.”

“Good eye! I think Red is on the other side of them. I have been to this park before, and we are on the edge, which can give us an edge. Oh, good. Our base is going to be relatively hidden from anyone trying to come in from below or from the right. We literally can only be attacked from the top.”

“That’s great. Which means we can focus on offense. Get Yellow out of the picture, and then maybe wait for Red to come find us?” you ask San. You looked him up last night and noticed that he is somewhat athletic. He is definitely the muscle-bound one of his group and has done well on other variety shows before.

Horn blares

“I am down for that. Let's go,” San's smile drops, and you notice it's game time.

It isn’t long before you come up on your first set of balloons, but you pass them by in an attempt to scout the Yellow base before letting them know you are here. However, that doesn’t seem to be San’s plan, as he starts shooting immediately. You turn sharply uphill to find the higher ground and watch as he plows through the balloon groupings.

Movement to the side catches your attention as you see Chanbin trying to sneak up on San. Quickly, you move and take a single shot to his back, the lights of his vest going off, indicating to him that he has been hit. Before he can turn around to see who hit him, you have already dropped back and are taking out the balloons he failed to protect.

Once the field is clear of balloons, you move to find San again to regroup, popping the remaining balloons along the way. It isn’t long before you find him and Felix battling it out, hiding behind bushes. This means the Red hasn’t made it here yet and is either on defense only or has gone after your base. This needs to end quickly.

Considering the terrain and their position compared to yours, you don’t have many options without being seen immediately. You could take the chance and believe that San would find a way to win against Felix so that you could go back and ensure your base was secure, but you also didn’t want to leave him to fend for himself. You made the quick decision to just meet up with San.

Right before you reach him, something to San’s left catches his attention, and you see Felix step out to take his shot. Without thinking, you leap forward, knocking San to the ground and shielding him. All while shooting at Felix, nailing him in the chest and leg. While Felix’s gear lights up, indicating that he is out, a voice rings through the area, “Team Yellow has been hunted. Team Purple and Team Red, the hunt is still on.”

Looking down, you see San looking at you wide-eyed and blushing. You smile brightly at him as you stand up, brushing yourself off, and say, “Sorry, but you were in my way. Now we have two choices: check Homebase or go after Red. Which do you want to do?”

Shaking his head, he also gets up off the ground. His mind was reeling, not from hitting his head or anything, just from you protecting him and laying on top of him. Trying to think of what to do, he can only say, “Offensive, right?”

“Sure thing. Let's go this way. You kept looking this way, so it might be something,” you say as you crouch down and start to walk… no prowl ahead. San happily follows behind you, watching your back in more ways than one.

Taking out the Red team was simple as they stayed by their base and didn’t hide themselves well. Everyone returned to the lobby after having a once-over by the team to make sure no one was injured and gave a few touch-ups for the cameras. Each team sat together on smaller couches, and MC Hanbin was in his own chair.

“Wow, talk about total domination. Team Purple, you took out both teams and didn’t lose a single balloon. The MVP certainly goes to none other than Y/n-ssi. You not only took out three competitors but over 60% of the balloons. How do you feel?” MC Hanbin asks. The rest clap and San pats you on the shoulder.

“I am honored, really. I think there is a stigma that shooting is a man’s game and that because I am plus-sized, I cannot be sneaky,” you respond, a little timid from all the clapping.

“I don’t know how she did it. She was like a ghost or invisible, and I mean, it’s not like she is hard to miss!” Chanbin says, still irritated to be the first one out in the game.

At his comment, San looks at him with fire in his eyes. How dare he imply anything negative about you? Felix tugs on Changbin’s shirt and glances at the now-present demon-like San. Trying to backpedal, he says, “I mean, with how brightly she is dressed, I figured she would shine and glint in the sunlight. Come on, neon and sparkles?”

“I guess this just shows us that you cannot underestimate her or her abilities, does it?” San sneers.

Laughing to ease the tension, MC Hanbin says, “Looks like the competition is on fire! Well, it’s time to rest up because tomorrow you will take on ‘Kitchen Crimes.’ Team Purple, you have an advantage.”

~YouPlusMe: Challenge 2 Kitchen Crimes~

“It’s Day 2! It's time for our next challenge, Kitchen Crimes, based on the American reality show Crime Scene Kitchen and hosted by Joel McHale. Our three teams will have two minutes to search a kitchen where something has been made. Once their investigation time is over, they will have one hour to recreate what they thought was made. Afterward, they will present their dishes to our guest chef,” MC Hanbin informs the audience and viewers.

“Team Purple, you won the advantage for this round. You get to steal thirty seconds from a team’s investigation time and add it to your own. Which team do you pick?”

“Yellow,” San calls out. His eyes pinned Chanbin in his place. You glance up at San with shock because he didn’t even consult you.

“Y/n-shi, are you in agreement with your partner?” asks MC Hanbin.

“Umm, yeah. He is the idol and has played these games before,” you smile gently, not wanting to cause a scene. “Sorry, team Yellow.”

“It’s okay, Y/n-shi. We know Sannie is just playing the game. No harm done, right Chanbin-ah?” Felix smiles, trying to play everything off as part of the game. He knows it isn’t, and he is pretty sure his partner knows he put a target on their back with his offhand comment. Felix just hopes that there are no other chances for San to strike out at him and his partner.

“Eunbi-shi and Gyuvin-ah, how do you feel about the challenge?” asks MC Hanbin, smirking at his ZB1 bandmate.

“Hanbinnie, you know I don’t cook but the world knows that Felix-hyung can make killer brownies. So I am very happy that San-hyung took away some of their time and I just hope that it isn’t a desert dish we have to cook,” Gyuvin says with a whine.

“I am with my partner on this one. I cannot cook to save my soul. Trust me when I was with IZ*ONE, the members were constantly saving me whenever we had to make something. We pretty much are gonna lose this one,” laughs Eunbi.

“Well, there you have it. Team Purple stole 30 seconds from Team Yellow, and they have 2 minutes and 30 seconds. Team Red follows with 2 minutes, and last is Team Yellow with 90 seconds,” recaps MC Hanbin.

It was show time again, and while you knew cooking was involved, you wanted to showcase your line still. You decided to wear something from your comfort line, trying to show that the plus-size woman can be fashionable but comfortable without looking like a lump on a log.

The shirt was a tank top made from breathable neon purple material with a built-in bra that had almost as much support as yesterday's sports bra but a bit more silky feeling. The pants resembled parachute pants, with white and neon purple artistically placed spray paint marks. Topping it off was a black trainer and a high-waisted, jeogori-inspired jacket that matched the pants.

San asked you what you would wear last night at the end of filming. Today, he arrived dressed to match your style, wearing black parachute pants, a deep purple tank top, and a leather jacket. He also wore black trainers but playfully had his hairdresser find a matching neon purple to add as a streak in his hair.

As before, each team continued to wear matching-colored outfits. However, none seemed to stand out as you were with San. It made your heart soar with the hope that the viewers liked what they saw. But right now, it was not time to concentrate on that; it was time to investigate.

It seems like seconds have passed, not anywhere near your extended time. You and San figured it was a cake with strawberries and a whipped cream topping.

“What do you think it is?” San asked.

“I have an idea. We both agreed there were strawberries, cream, and really fine flour in it. So maybe we just make a very fluffy cake with strawberry filling and a whipped cream topping?” you responded, chewing on your lip as you reviewed your notes.

“Ah, yeah. That sounds good,” San agreed, focusing on your now red, puffy lips instead of the paper you showed him.

“Do you know how to make any of it? San-ssi? San!” you attempted to get his attention. Once his eyes snapped to meet you, you asked again, “You zoned out on me. Do you know how to make any of it?”

“Only if it comes in a box and Wooyoungie is with me. Even then, we end up ordering from the bakery,” San says shyly. Not only is he embarrassed that you caught him staring, but you also just learn he can’t cook for the life of him.

“Well, I have tried a few times with a recipe, and I know how boxcakes are made. My mom used to make them with me every weekend, but the filling… I haven’t a clue.”

“That is better than nothing. Let me help get the ingredients,” San says, heading to the pantry. “Wait, what am I grabbing?”

“As you all saw, the investigations went smoothly, and the cooking was a mess. Team Yellow sounded very certain that the dish was Strawberry Shortcake, Team Purple thought it was Strawberry Cake, and Team Red followed their gut with a Strawberry Crepes Cake.”

Now it is time to introduce our Guest Chef,” MC Hanbin looks to the side of the stage. “After 50 years of cooking experience, losing his sense of smell due, and appearing on ‘Chef & My Fridge,’ our guest judge is none other than Chef Yeon Bok Lee!”

“Hello, everyone. It is an honor to be here. I am Chef Yeon Bok Lee, and as a Chef, it is my job to protect the kitchen, but today, it's my job to judge your cooking,” the Chef says with a smile and bowing slightly.

“Welcome, Chef! It’s our honor to have you. You were the one to make the secret item in the kitchen, right?” MC Hanbin prompts, to which the Chef nods.

“I wanted to make something that always brought a smile to the faces of my guests. It is simple in nature, sweet but not too sweet, and a perfect dish to top off a summer picnic.” The Chef gestures to the table before him, where the lights all focus as a covered dish rises, “Today I made strawberry shortcake for you!”

Mixtures of yeses, noes, and other exclamations at things not being fair come from the competitors. “Oh my, that was a mix of reactions,” Chef muses.

“It sure was, first up we will have Team Red. Please come and present your dish to the Chef,” requests MC Hanbin.

Taking their dish up to the judging table, Eunbi and Gyuvin’s Strawberry Crepe Cake starts to look like the Leaning Tower of Pisa. Eunbi smiles gently, trying to use her cuteness as a distraction. She says, “Hello, Chef. It is an honor to be cooking for someone as esteemed as you are. We thought with the fine flour and the strawberries, you had created a Crepe cake with strawberry and whipped cream topping.”

“Thank you,” the Chef replies, laughing at the team's appearance. Both competitors are flour-covered, making them more Team White than Red. Your crepe cake has structural problems; half has now slid onto the floor. Shall we taste what we can before the rest follows?”

Gyuvin cuts slices of the remaining crepes and adds whatever strawberries and whipped cream he can find before serving a slice to the Chef and his bandmate MC. Giving them both a cringing smile, he says, “We used fine flour, eggs, cream, sugar, and yeah… it should be good. Umm… Enjoy.”

Both MC Hanbin and Chef cut pieces and inspect the creation before eating. Immediately, coughing and choking start. While the Chef spits out his piece, being a good bandmate, Hanbin swallows his and forces a smile, commenting, “Well, at least it isn’t crunchy or burnt this time.”

“Ah, Team Red, I think you may have mistaken salt for granulated sugar for the whipped cream and strawberry sauce. I will say that your crepes are well made, though, with a good consistency and not overly cooked,” the Chef says before he downs half a glass of water.

“Sorry, Chef. We ran out of time to taste everything,” Eunbi says as she backs away, embarrassed. Gyuvin just avoids eye contact with either man, taking the disaster of a dish back to their kitchen.

“Next up we have Team Purple. Please bring your dish to the judging stand,” directs MC Hanbin.

You take the cake and walk carefully to the stand, hoping to keep it from dropping it like the other team. Meanwhile, San hovers around you, whispering when it's time to step and encouraging you with small praises of how well you are doing by walking gracefully. You are trying not to turn beet red the whole time because praises have always done something to you, and it's not what you want the world to see.

After successfully placing the dish down, San and you bow to the Chef. With a large but sweet smile, you say, “Chef Yeon Bok Lee, it is a pleasure to see you again.”

“You know each other?” San askes, ignoring the side eye from MC Hanbin.

“Miss Y/n, it is you. It has been some time now, hasn’t it? How is your family? Does your father still run the little noodle stand back home?” inquires the Chef with a genuine smile.

“Yes, Chef. It has been a long time and my dad still runs the stand but now he has my brother joining him. Logan-ah is already 13 now and has shown great interest in cooking and baking,” you reply.

“Cooking and baking, you say? I may have to visit your father and brother to see this myself. Maybe he could come and take lessons from me one day. But now, let's see if you have a talent for baking. Eh?” The chef smiles, looking at the well-presented cake.

“Well, Chef, we have presented you with a Vanilla sponge cake with macerated strawberry filling and a whipped cream frosting topped with candied whole strawberries,” San proudly announces.

After inspecting the cake, MC Hanbin says, “Well, it survived the trip here. Please serve us a bite to try out and see if it tastes as good as it looks, hyung.” This is followed by San cutting each piece and serving it to them, including a candied strawberry.

Following the same procedure of cutting, inspecting, and eating as before, you and San hold your breath. Your hand grips San’s wrist as you await their reaction. San, however, has been watching you since you touched him. He brings his other hand, gently rubs your upper arm, and whispers, “It’s okay. We got this. You did amazing.”

You smile at his words, remembering having saved the poor idol from burning off his fingerprints when he tried to dip the strawberries in the hot sugar to coat them without using the dipping fork.

“Waaaahhh! Such a light a fluffy sponge on the cake. I really wish you had made a shortcake and not a victoria’s sponge cake. A minor change to your egg, sugar, and water ratio and you would have made a delightful version of my strawberry shortcake,” the Chef comments with a slight frown.

“Those strawberries done in two ways is amazing given the limited time you had. I suppose as a CEO and fashion designer, you understand time management well,” compliments MC Hanbin.

“Well, that is true, but I also have someone who was a good boy at following directions in the kitchen,” you say, smiling at San, who only dusts his cheeks a deep rose and stutters his breath.

Stepping forward, you take your cake and retreat to your kitchen, with San in two, still reeling from you calling him a good boy. Looking at the closest camera, San says, “See, Captain and Seonghwa-hyung, I can be good! Y/n-shi said so!”

“Last up, will Team Yellow present their dish to the Chef and me?” asks MC Hanbin.

Team Yellow shines like the sun because they know they got the right cake. Not only that, but they were the only ones, which means they automatically won. Placing down the cake on the stand, both smiling so widely that their eyes turned into crescents.

Felix wastes no time introducing himself: “Hello, Chef Yeon Bok Lee. Most know me as Felix, but my name is Lee Yong Bok. It is an honor to have you taste something I have baked with the help of my competition partner, Chanbin-ah.”

“Oh my! We have a significant similarity there, I see,” smiles the Chef.

MC Hanbin laughs, “Not only does he share your name, in a sense, but Felix-hyung is also known worldwide for his brownie recipe. Isn’t that right, hyung?”

“Yes, my mates love it when I make them. Though our trainers don’t like it so much,” Felix giggles.

“Well, I should love to try them another day then, Yongbok-ah. Make sure to reach out when this is all over, ya?” asks the Chef.

“I would be… Yes, Of course. It would be a great honor!” Felix replies, bouncing on his toes with happiness.

“First, he should try out the cake, hyung,” Chanbin interrupts. We present you with a take on strawberry shortcake. It is made with classic shortcake soaked in a simple syrup made with strawberry juice and topped with fresh strawberries, mint leaves, and whipped cream.”

“I can see that you have a keen eye, Team Yellow. You are the only ones to get it right, Congratulations. Now please cut us a slice, “ praises the Chef.

After receiving the pieces, inspecting them, and tasting them, MC Hanbin speaks first, saying, “Wow! Your shortcake is so moist with strawberry flavor, and the whipped cream is the smoothest we have tasted. No wonder you are known for your bakes, Felix-hyung.”

“Hanbin-ah is right. You both did a great job with this bake. I can tell you must have sifted the flour and the sugar before incorporating them in, and the idea to make the simple syrup flavored adds a different dimension. Well done. It is clear that you are the winners of this challenge,” announces the Chef.

With bows of thanks and high-pitched squeals of joy, Team Yellow makes it back to their kitchen.

“I want us all to thank Chef Yeon Bok Lee for joining us today. It was a delight to hear your thoughts on our competitors' dishes—some good and some bad. Team Yellow, with this win, you are tied with Team Purple for first place. Both teams have a chance to win the show by winning the challenge tomorrow, or Team Red, you have a chance to make it a three-way tie,” recaps MC Hanbin.

Looking at Team Yellow, he continues, “As winners of today’s challenge, Team Yellow, you won the advantages for tomorrow’s game, which is– Dance Battle. Each of our Idols will have 24 hours to learn the choreography of their assigned K-pop hit. They then have the next 72 hours to teach their competition partner.”

“In the First game, Y/n is a ninja. In the second game, Felix is a baking master. Now, in the final game, we got this Noona because we are both Idols and are used to learning dances quickly,” remarks Gyuvin to his competition partner.

“I wouldn't be so sure, Gyuvin-ah. San is one of the main dancers for Ateez and is known for his determination and competitiveness. Not to forget, his dad is a Taekwondo instructor, so I am pretty sure that he has picked up some teaching skills from him,” Eunbi replies.

~Dance Battle Song Selection~

“Hello, Team Yellow, and congratulations again on your win in Kitchen Crimes!” exclaims MC Hanbin. Both Team members bow in thanks and show their excitement to the cameras.

“It is time for your advantage! As you know, the next challenge is a Dance Battle and your win today allows you to pick the K-pop songs for all three teams,” he announces.

“No way! That is awesome!” Chanbin says, “We can pick an easy song for us and harder ones for the others. I have two left feet so, yeah. Felix-hyung, you know more about these dance challenges than I do, you pick please?”

“I know the perfect songs, easy peasy lemon squeezy,” Felix says with a smirk.

“Oh, you already know what songs to pick, Felix-hyung?” asks MC Hanbin.

“Yeah, for Eunbi-shi and Gyuvin-ah… we don’t want to give them something easy because they are both idols. I have seen both of them dance, and they are good. So, we pick– Black Swan by BTS,” Felix declares.

“OH! Gyuvin is going to hate that,” laughs MC Hanbin. “It's a perfect choice for them. I can’t wait to see him try to lift Eubin-shi.”

“I think we can handle– My Angel by B.O.Y. It’s already choreographed for two males, and while it’s intricate, it’s not hard. What do you think?” Felix says, looking at Chanbin questioningly.

“Oh! I know that one. Yeah, I can manage that… I think,” agrees Chanbin.

“Chanbin-ssi, you may know your song now but you have to play fair and not start learning it until your dance practice with Felix-hyung, okay?” MC Hanbin warns the competitor, to which he nods in understanding.

“What song are you thinking about picking for San-hyung and Y/n-shi?” questions Chanbin. A smirk plays along Felix’s face while he rubs his hands together.

“Sannie and I have known each other for a while, and I remember he used to struggle with learning dances. For the competition, though, I want to challenge his ability to teach someone else not only to dance but to dance with intense emotion and strength. I want them to dance to– Red Lights by my hyungs, Bang Chan and Hyunjin.

~Dance Battle Idol Practice Day: Eubin~

“How do you practice Black Swang alone?” asked Eubin as she watched the modeled dance practice video. “See that! It’s a lift, and that is a spin. Do you have someone for me to practice with today?”

Eunbin says, looking at the camera, “Apparently, all of the Idols have to learn what they can alone today and then figure out the rest with our partners tomorrow. I just hope my partner is a lot stronger than he looks.

~Dance Battle Idol Practice Day: Felix~

“Well, now I kind of feel bad. I didn’t know that we would be alone for the first part of this dance practice. I thought we were going to be taught by someone. Not teach ourselves.” Felix laments.

“Lucky for me and Sannie, our dances don’t have a lot of paired movement but more of mirrored or synchronized movements. Sorry, Noona Eubin! If it helps, I know that Gyuvin picked up Work by Ateez really quick according to the members. Soooorrrry!”

~Dance Battle Idol Practice Day: San~

“He did what?” San stands frozen when the producer tells him what song Felix picked for his team. “He does realize what this song is about, who dances it, and the… ahh… maturity level of this dance, right?”

Shaking his head, he watched the video again, “There are minimal lifts, but there are accessories, and touching, and like… Can Y/n-shi dance? Does anyone know if she will be alright with this?”

He spends most of the first few hours just pacing and watching different videos of the song his “friend” picked for him to dance to with his current crush. While he doesn’t mind learning it or dancing it, especially with you, he wants to make sure you are comfortable with the sensuality and emotions of the dance.

San’s head just spins, trying to figure out how to remain stage-appropriate while having to run his hands on your body, wrap you in chains, and press against you. His heart is aching as it comes up with a million reasons why you would be able to feel like that with him.

~YouPlusMe: Challenge 3 Dance Battle~

“Welcome back to YouPlusMe,” smiles MC Hanbin. “While you saw our Idols' reactions to learning what song Team Yellow chose, you also saw that we gave them a dance room, a boombox, and a practice video.”

“We want to surprise you with the reactions and the dance practices with their competition partners. To watch the team practices and additional behind the scenes videos, please check out our YouTube channel. Don’t forget to like and subscribe!”

“What kind of competition can we have without a judge? Lucky for us, we have someone who started as a backup dancer Jason Wang. Now, he is known for his choreography skills and has worked with Enyphen, TXT, BTS, and Super M. Let me introduce none other than Mr. Nick Joseph!” introduces MC Hanbin.

“Hello, everyone,” Nick walks about with killer pop and lock moves. “It is a pleasure to be here. I have always been the one competing in these and never judging. I cannot wait to see what the Idols have been able to teach the newbies.”

“Now it’s the time we have all been waiting for. It’s time for… Dance Battles! Team Red is up first with their dance cover of BTS’ Black Swan,” introduces MC Hanbin.

They were dressed in solid black body suits covered with sheer drapes. Their faces were donning black and silver feathered masks. Eubin and Gyuvin lost themselves in the song. They moved around the stage, decorated to resemble a dead forest with fog machines and hanging twinkling lights. They gracefully engaged each other and made the lifts look effortless. It was like they controlled everyone who witnessed it with every beat they hit.

“That was breathtaking,” comments Nick.

“Gyuvin-ah! I never knew you had that kind of strength and elegance! I cannot wait for the rest to see this episode; you killed it. Eubin, how do you think your newcomer did?” asks MC Hanbin.

“He did really well. It took him a bit to trust himself with the lifts, but in the end, he gave 110% and never once made me concerned that he was going to drop me,” smiles Eubin and her partner, just blushing at the praise.

“Thank you, noona, for being patient with me and trusting me to have the skills not to embarrass you. And Felix-hyung, thank you for the challenge, your song choice showed me that I am capable of more than I realize,” bows Gyuvin.

“Next up, we have Team Yellow. Nick-ssi, this team won the advantage in assigning the songs for the battle today. They chose My Angel by B of You. Let’s watch,” prompts MC Hanbin.

The multicolored spotlights have cleared the stage of everything, allowing the shiny black floor and dark-colored walls to showcase the two dancers taking the stage. Felix and Chanbin are dressed in black-on-black pinstripe suits, soft yellow shirts, and no tie.

Once the dancing started, it was clear how well the suits fit but allowed for ease of movement. The crisp movements and synchronization between the two were clean and well-timed.

The newcomer's solo piece only had a minor timing mishap, which was quickly corrected when the idol joined back in.

“I loved the simplicity and the teamwork between the two of you,” compliments MC Hanbin.

“Mr. Ko, are you a dancer?” the guest judge asks. Chanbin simply shakes his head and then looks at Felix with a frown. Felix simply pats him on the back to comfort him in the moment. “Mr. Ko, I am impressed. I am assuming that the solo went a little off track because it didn’t move with the beat. Am I correct?

Both Team Yellow members nod as a staff member hands Felix a microphone: “Ah, yes. There was a sequence that got thrown off beat in the solo, but Chanbin-ah claims to have two left feet, which is why I chose this song for us.”

“Wow. Great choice of song, Mr. Lee. Mr. Ko, if this is your first time really dancing like this, and you are this good after only a couple of days. Bravo! You have great skills as a student, never lose that in life,” advises Nick.

“So far, Felix-hyung has picked songs that fit the teams well. During the selection process, he was trying to challenge his competitors and give his team the edge,” MC Hanbin tells the guest judge.

“Ah, I think he missed his mark because Team Red killed it. His team struggled slightly, but we still have one more team left. What was Mr. Lee’s goal for the last team?” inquires Nick.

“He was hoping to challenge San-hyung with a song that would require him to teach not only dance but also the emotional side of dancing. Team Purple has Y/n-shi, a fashion designer.” MC Hanbin answers Nick.

“Oooo, yes, emotional understanding and ability to convey that is key for most duet performances,” comments the long-time choreographer.

“It’s time! The stage has been set, and our team is in place. Here is Team Purple and their performance of Red Lights by Bang Chan and Hyunjin of Stray Kids,” announces MC Hanbin.

The only light on the stage comes from the back wall, which pulses red. The viewers can see an outline of you kneeling on a four-post bed. Your elegant but staccato movements sync with the deep breathing in the room as the song starts.

A chain in your hands goes across the stage, bringing the focus to San lying on the ground. As the words start, you pull him across the floor as you climb off the bed.

Meeting in the middle, you pull him to his knees before you, and just as another breath is heard, the stage floods with lights, revealing your costumes.

San is wearing skin-tight black leather pants. His black shirt resembles a leather leotard with strategic cut-outs, long sleeves, and fingerless gloves. The tightness of his outfit shows off his muscular figure and leaves nothing to the imagination. Everything is lined with red ribbons and smaller red chains.

Your outfit is a short-sleeved curve-hugging leather body con dress and booty shorts that match San’s. It is also littered with cut-outs lined in red ribbons. Your forearms are decorated with the red chains you used to drag San across the floor.

Both of your makeup designers went gothic, using thick black eyeliner, red eye shadow, and deep red lips. San’s skin was flawless and tan, while they used skin lightener on you, trying to bring a bit of a vampire vibe into the mix.

The two of you honor the mirrored dance of the Red Lights music video. Your fluidity and the power of the interactions between the pair of you has everyone shifting in their seats.

As the song progresses, you both dance back to the bed. You shove San to lay on as you take the focus towards the end. Moving around the bed, you seduce the viewers. Using the chains wrapped around Sans pants as bindings, you connect them to the bottom posts.

The chains from your arms unwind and connect to the cuffs of Sans's shirt. Using the chains, you guide San in his movements as the bed slides to the center of the stage and starts tilting toward the judges.

The song is close to the end when you latch the chains over to the bed's headboard and raise San’s arms over his head. Using the bed's angle, you slide off the bed. Soon, the bed is standing on end.

Chains rattle as San struggles against the restraints, hindering his movements. His face is filled with desires and yearning for your touch.

With a deep roll to your hips, you walk up to San and run your nails along his body from his legs up to his abs.

When the song ends, you lean in, ghosting a kiss over his lips, and then walk away into the night.

San’s deep panting was the only sound heard.

The lights in the studio come back on. The other competitors and the judges are stunned at what they just witnessed. San has been released from his chains and joins you at the front of the stage.

The attention without reactions has you nervously nibbling on your lower lip as you look up at San, who smirks down at you with his eyes still dark and dreamy looking. These last three days have been hell for you.

The first time you heard the song, you were so excited because you loved it. I mean, how could you not be thrilled? Bang Chan was your bias. You already know the dance from the trillions of times you have watched music videos and YouTube dance practices.

After showing off your moves to San, you blushed as he and the camera crew were floored. San couldn’t wait to make it fit the two of you. He quickly decided that you would be one of the two of you in charge.

After some discussion with the production staff, the whole thing came together. The hardest part was making the bed work into the dance more than a stationary prop.

San knew he didn’t want to end it with you and him suggestively on the bed because he wasn’t sure he could stop. When you came up with the idea of taking a more Dominatrix video for the dance and wanting just to leave San locked at your mercy, everyone laughed, but San thought it would be perfect.

Not only did he want to see that side of you, but he also knew it would keep him in check. Then, he also asked if you could help figure out what the two of you would be wearing. Your creative juices were flowing.

You were excited to design something for both you and San. You had never made men’s clothing, but it was a challenge you were willing to take on. Everything came together quickly with the help of the show’s wardrobe, production, and props team.

All these thoughts ran through your head as your focus remained on San alone. It wasn’t until the room exploded in applause that you finally relaxed into San and allowed all the jitters to disappear. Everyone is yelling out variations of acclimations.

“Ok ok okay… Felix-ssi,” MC Hanbin looks at the idol. “I don’t think they struggled with anything with this song.” Felix is just standing there trying to collect his jaw off the floor. His eyes stare into San’s skull with shock and many questions he cannot ask on air.

“Miss Y/n, you killed it,” comments Nick. “Do you have any dance experience?”

While still trying to catch your breath, you answer, “Actually, I do.” pant pant pant “In high school, I was in a show choir, did some musicals, and I was part of a hip/hop and stomp club.”

“Period! That is why you know how to work the stage like it’s yours,” Nick exclaimed.

“You should see you dance the original choreography to this song,” San beamed next to you. “I didn’t have to teach her a thing with that. Our time was spent making the dance more of a duet than a mirrored dance.”

“San-hyung,” MC Hanbin asked, “how did you feel having Y/n-shi do the killing part in the dance?”

“Easy.” San looks down at you while wrapping his arms around your shoulders in a back hug. “The moment she walked into the practice room and showed me what she could do, I knew I had to show off what an amazing and sexy partner I had.”

This caused the room to ooh and ahh, to which you tried your best not to blush. You just hoped the heat on your face was attributed to the dancing, not the comments or the feel of San behind you.

“Well, there you have it. Now, Nick-ssi, as our teams all gather on the stage, you have the wonderful job of selecting the winners of today’s Dance Battle challenge. Who is it going to be?” MC Hanbin looks at the guest judge.

“You know, as a dancer and choreographer, I can see so much talent between everyone on the stage. Each team found ways to work the songs chosen by Mr. Lee to their best abilities.”

Nick’s eyes dance over the teams, “Red Team, you swept us up with your grace. Yellow Team, you showed us what rhythm and teamwork mean. Purple team, you took us on a ride that was powerful.”

“So which team is it?” prompts MC Hanbin.

“I am going to have to go with… Team Purple!”

This caused you and San to jump up and down, hugging and congratulating each other. The other teams came over to pat you on the back and personally remark on how great the dance was.

“Nick-ssi, what was the reason why you finally chose the Purple team?” asked MC Hanbin.

“If I hadn’t known that Miss Y/n wasn’t a trained dancer, I would have thought that this was M Countdown's special appearance. The quality of dance, the passion between the two, and the costume design are top-notch,” explains Nick.

“Want to know something? Y/n-shi not only designed her costume but San’s as well in less than 72 hours,” informs MC Hanbin. “She really is a force to be reckoned with.”

Looking at the camera, MC Hanbin says, “Well this has been an amazing week of challenges for our Idols and our newbies. After three challenges, the clear winner of YouPlusMe is San-hyung and Y/n-shi!”

Cannons go off at the announcement of your team’s win. The stage gets covered in purple confetti as Red Lights starts playing again.

Everyone just grabs random partners and starts dancing. Felix is the one you end up dancing with as he pulls you farther and farther away from San. He wanted to dance some of the music video moves with you to send to his bandmates.

You do not see San's look of longing and desire as he, too, gets swept away by the others.

After the song ends, you find yourself back in your personal dressing room. You would think you would be euphoric after winning the show, but your mind is focused on something else.

You came here to show your work. Use it to your advantage and get your line out there. Challenge the Korean beauty standards and start a fire with the Fashion Industry as a whole. Apparently, the universe had more for you in mind, but you weren’t sure what to do about it.

This last challenge is what broke down your walls. You weren’t expecting to feel something during all of this. You had thought it was just the rush of the competition, the thrill of showing the world who you were and working with someone who was just as excited to be here as you.

You weren’t blind.

You noticed San from day one; who couldn’t?

It was easy to dismiss because you wanted to focus on the show. After the first meeting and exchange of numbers, you soon learned that he had a charming personality.

You found yourself looking forward to filming with him and smiling when he sent a text, but now that it’s over, you feel tight in your chest at the thought of never seeing him again.

It wasn’t until the second day of dance practice that you realized it wasn’t the show that you were excited about but San. Though you weren’t a morning person, it was early for anyone.

Opening the door to the practice room, you froze at the sight. The Idol ran on a different schedule than you, and it was clear he had been there long enough to build up a sweat.

His face was half covered by a baseball cap pulled low. He wore baggy sweatpants that rode low on his hips, showing the band of his boxers, and no shirt. He was lost in his own world, dancing to It’s You by him and his bandmates Yeosang and Wooyoung.

His body was moving like water. The body rolls, the hip thrusts, and the floorwork caused such a primal reaction from you that you had to leave. Your mind had gone into San becoming your partner in unprofessional ways.

A knock on the door brings you out of your thoughts. Walking to the door, you finish putting on your jacket and pull open the door. As if conjured by your thoughts, there stands San.

“San,” you breathe, trying to keep your thoughts from seconds ago to yourself.

“Y/n,” smiles San. He seems fidgety tonight.

“Thank you for everything.”

“Oh, it was nothing. I had a blast. This was my first challenge with someone who was really good at pretty much everything. It made me feel like I was the newbie of the two of us.”

“Oh, never. You are way too talented to be considered a newbie.”

The two of you stand there in the doorway of your dressing room. San is still fidgeting, and you don’t want him to leave yet.

“Are you going to the after party? I think Felix said something about it being at a Noraebang nearby. I think everyone else is going and may have invited others too.”

“I was thinking about it. I am pretty sure he invited my bandmates and his. It would be a perfect chance for you to meet the rest of your favorite K-pop band. Maybe get Chan-hyung and Hyujinnie to sing Red Lights for you?”

You giggle at the thought but hesitate, looking down and saying, “I would only want them to sing it if you were there to dance with me.”

A shy smile blooms on San’s face. Taking a chance that you might see the hidden question, he asks, “Do you want to keep dancing with me?”

“I would love to keep dancing with you, Sannie.” You look up, smiling, hoping he means more than what he says.

“Then, will you be my date to the after-party, and then maybe we can go to dinner some other time, just the two of us?” he asks again, stepping forward.

Resting your hand on his chest, you lean into his warmth, “I would love to go out with you tonight or any night.”

With a smile on both your faces, San leans in and gives you a chaste kiss—just enough to settle your minds from the roller coaster of emotions you both experienced this week and light up your hearts with the excitement of a future together.

The last thought in your head is that agreeing to this show was more than you expected. You never expected to grow as much as you did, to win, or to find what may be love, but…

Was it Fate?

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telekinetictrait · 1 year

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"Shielded by my own obscurity, and by the lapse of years, and a few fictitious names, I do not fear to venture; and will candidly lay before the public what I would not disclose to the most intimate friend." (Agnes Grey, A Novel – Anne Brontë, 1847)

anne brontë likers we need to unionize.

ah, the 1840s! the brontë sisters, edgar allen poe, charles dickens... and what i can only imagine is an incredibly confusing amount of petticoats. the torso becomes thinner and longer, with the characteristic "point" ending of the bodice. skirts continue to grow, and grow, and grow... you get the point. sleeves fluctuate through this era, but are more often than not kept close to the arms – a major difference from the 1830s. the stereotypical victorian conservatism can be seen in daydresses of this era. speaking of daydresses, it became easier for women of the (gasp) lower class to mimic the styles of upper class women, as fashion moved from trims to the fabric and cuts themselves. its much easier for your average woman to obtain fabric than to obtain jewels, for example. going forward, expect a mix of upper and lower (more accurately, the slowly forming middle) class fashions!

also, i have been flying through these. i have no idea how long this amount of energy and hyperfocus is going to last. also also, to every cc creator that is getting tagged over and over: i'm sorry. it is a cc desert out here and you are oases. also also also: i reused a dress once. i could have sworn i downloaded ten but apparently i only downloaded nine ??

1800-1809 / 1810-1819 / 1820-1829 / 1830-1839

cc links under the cut

see my resources page

ealasaid : buzzardly28's 1840s hairs / bedisfull's pearl and frill headband / kiarazurk's fairytale dress / ikari-sims' princess gloves

echo : buzzardly28's 1840s hairs / jarisimcc's necklace / vintagesimstress' 1841 ball gown / dzifasims' jane gloves

edelmira : buzzardly28's 1840s hairs / simstomaggie's losse bonnet / elfdor's victorian dress #1

eidel : buzzardly28's 1840s cecilia hair / linzlu's colonial cap / acanthus-sims' tied fichu / vintagesimstress' 1843 day dress

elektra : wastelandwhisperer's chamomile hair / linzlu's fancy bonnet / simverses' norse visby fur cape / sunlittides' 1840s day dress

endzela : turquoiseesims' aster hair (download here) / huiernxoxo's mulani gem earrings / simsonico's shining nikki shy lady necklace conversion / buzzardly28's june dress / dzifasims' jane gloves

ernestine : linzlu's sallie hair / lace-and-honey's linzlu prarie bonnet conversion / vintagesimstress' 1843 day dress

estrella : tekri's lucrezia bun / glitterberrysims' victorian era / oydis' esther dress / dzifasims' jane gloves

euphrasie : pandorasimbox's victorian modest daycap / vintagesimstress' 1848 velvet dress

evita : feralpoodles' victoria hair / toksiks' silence choker / acanthus-sims' rose brooch / buzzardly28's summer ball gown

thank you to @buzzardly28 @bedisfull @ikari-sims @jarisimcc @vintagesimstress @dzifasims @simstomaggie @elfdor @linzlu @wastelandwhisperer @simverses @sunlittides @huiernxoxo @simsonico @lace-and-honey @tekri @glitterberrysims @oydis @pandorasimbox and @feralpoodles

#my sims #sims 4 lookbook #the sims 4 lookbook #ts4 lookbook #ts4 historical lookbook #ts4 victorian lookbook #223 years #1840s #victorian #historical

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fxlling13 · 6 days

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I Always See You

Dh!Master x (fem)reader

Wc: 3.5k

Synopsis: The Doctor forces you along on an out of place trip, but why?

Warnings: none

You couldn’t remember a time you had seen The Doctor more insistent on going somewhere. Even Yaz was watching her girlfriend with a furrowed brow.

“I thought you two were going on a date today?” You asked, sat up a few steps in the console room.

“So did I. What’s this about Doctor?” Yaz probed, following the blonde around the room.

“I just think you’ll both love this party. Honestly, it’s top notch.” She boasted, eyes fluttering around awkwardly. Yeah, something felt off. Even though she could be odd and eccentric, her who demeanour was different. More to the point, she wasn’t even talking to you thirty minutes ago. Now she was begging you to go out with them.

“Weren’t you mad at me?” You stood, strolling over to the others. She considered you for a second.

“Was I?”

“You were. For nineteenth Century Spain?” You reminded her, wanting to get to the bottom of whatever ‘this’ was.

“You mean when you tried to kill the sub-species inhabiting the ocean?” Her eyes were still filled with anger, pulling on a few levers harshly.

“They were vermin, Doctor. You know that-“

“Anyway. This party is huge in the fifth quadrant of the Milsy galaxy. Talk of the millennium.” The Doctor cut you off hastily, standing herself straight. Biting your tongue, you just sighed, used to the dismissive attitude she gave you. “Did I mention it’s a masquerade ball?” The Doctor wiggled her brows cockily. Yaz gasped excitedly, clasping her hands over her mouth.

“Seriously? Oh my god!”

“Yep! I should have gowns on the third floor wardrobe, next to the ice cream vans, if I’m not mistaken.” She clarified. Ecstatic, Yaz grabbed your wrist and pulled you up through the winding corridors. You followed with a laugh, allowing the girl to drag you about as she pleased.

The wardrobe was indeed filled to the brim with dresses. In every style, length and colour you could ever imagine.

“Oh I don’t know. What colour?” Yaz was routing through the racks, clearly overwhelmed.

“Well, The Doctor will either wear blue or black. So pick a colour to match. How about gold?” You suggested, going to her and pointing to a shimmering gown. Grinning, the brunette pulled it out and hummed in agreement.

“You might be right.” She said, observing the dress with glee. With three quarter length sleeves, a frill around the cuffs and edge, it had a swirling pattern laced throughout.

“I think it will really suit you.” You nod in thought, making the girl even happier.

“Thank you, (y/n)!” She gleamed, hanging the dress over her arm before focusing on you. “So. What are you thinking?”

“Honestly? No idea.” You chortled, skimming through the options languidly.

“You definitely suit darker colours.” Yaz said, going to your side. She pointed to a few dark green, black and navy dressed. Yet none caught your eye. “Oh look!” Yaz pulled out a dress at the end of the rack, your eyes lighting up. It was a deep purple, satin dress, with off the shoulder straps and a dipped neckline. There was a v waistline, the skirt not too puffy but enough to know it was a ballgown. Adorned with a corset back, it was perfect for you.

———

It didn’t take you too long to get ready, to do your hair and make up to your liking. Somehow, you managed to fasten up your dress so it was snug to your figure, lining your waist nicely. Lastly, you picked up the matching mask that the tardis had provided for you, and tied it securely. It only covered your eyes and down the bridge of your nose. Still, it went with your dress perfectly. When you got back to the console room, the others were already there. Yaz had put her hair in a half up bun, curling the rest and letting it flow down her back. The Doctor was in a black pantsuit, with a dark blue tie and pocket square. They really did look good together.

“Ah, there you are. I just landed.” The Doctor let you know, reaching into her blazer pocket. To your surprise, she handed you a small box. Perplexed, you opened it and found a broach. It was silver, with a white stone in the middle. Not really to your taste.

“What’s this for?”

“It’s just a gift, nothing special.” The Doctor shrugged, eyes averting from yours slightly.

“She got me these earrings too!” Yaz boasted, showing off her gold drop earrings. Slowly you nod, pinning the broach to your dress. It was a nice gesture after all, even if you wouldn’t have picked it yourself.

“Thank you, Doctor.” She just nod, walking over, linking Yaz then heading towards the doors. Something really was off with her, you thought. Your relationship had been strained recently, as you grew better at standing your own ground. She didn’t like your morals, your thoughts or your actions at times. It seemed your whole personality offended her. However, something just seemed strange. Regardless, you followed the couple out into what seemed to be a castle. The Doctor got you both into the main event, showing her paper to a guard. Aliens of all kinds were there, all mingling closely. It was good to see. The room itself was beautiful, high arched ceilings, with diamond chandeliers. The floor was black tiles, the walls a pristine white with dark detailing. There were many large pieces of art strewn around, round tables filled with chatting guests. At the far left of the room, a band were up in a stage, playing different tempos of music.

“You both have your masks?” The Doctor checked, looking you both over then relaxing. Yaz had a mask that was just over her eyes, just as shiny as her dress. As for The Doctor, hers covered half of her face. It was definitely unique. “You’ll be fine, right (y/n)?” She asked. But you had no chance to reply. All of a sudden, said woman took hold of Yaz, practically dragging her away into the crowd. Then, they were gone from view. You deflated, not expecting to be left alone so quickly. Part of you felt like you should just go back, instead of hanging around on your own. Another part of you wanted to have fun though. So, putting on a brave face, you began to wander around the hall. A few guests greeted you. One lady, who was clearly an alien hybrid, even invited you to her little group for a while. Strangely, you felt as though you were being watched, as if there were eyes on you at all times. But every time you checked behind, there was nothing. So, you brushed it aside. One thing you had noticed, was the stunning jewellery the lady dawned. She had bangles of glistening diamonds, a thick gold chain hanging from her neck and jewels lining her braids. However, it was her rings that you were spying. Specifically the one on her pinky. A white-gold band, with an intricate floral design, finished with a stunning red gem. Who knows the price, but you could tell it was beyond anything you could afford. Bidding the women goodbye, you shook her hand firmly, telling her what a pleasure it had been. You then made your way to the very back of the hall, smiling to yourself all the way. Subtly, you slipped the ring onto your middle finger, lips curling in satisfaction. Surely the woman wouldn’t miss it too much, she could probably just get another. Standing in front of a large glass window, you admired the stars outside. A swirling cascade of deep blues and glowing amber, kept you distracted for a moment. It dawned on you just how much of an outcast you felt like. When travelling with The Doctor, she made you feel like a villain. Like you could be the worst person on the world. All it did was make you uncomfortable with her. With everyone. In fact, there was hardly a time you could remember, feeling free and truly like yourself. Well, almost never. Yet, you shook those thoughts away.

“Excuse me?” Looking to your side, you found a tall man with blue skin. He was smiling down at you with his hand outstretched. “The dance is about to begin, would you care to join me?” He was sweating profusely, forehead glimmering grossly. Yet you just shrugged.

“Why not?” You agreed, having nothing better to do. The man took you into the gathering of people, getting into position just as the music picked up once again. Everyone began to dance in tandem, the music going at a steady pace. You followed along the best you could, but the man was clumsy and flustered. He also kept rambling about how much he liked you. That just made you cringe, considering you didn’t know him at all. Thankfully, you did make it through the song enough to be passed on to the next partner. A Hath at that. Even so, he was better than the first and more bearable, considering he couldn’t speak to you. The cycle continued for a while; going between different men and all of them either being terrible dancers, or just weird. The person currently holding you was far too close, their fishy breath almost making you gag. Their grip on your hand was tight too. More to the point, all eight of their eyes were firmly glued to your lips. A third hand landed on your shoulder, causing the creature to break contact.

“I’ll take it from here, thank you.” That voice. When you were pulled around and you felt your heart rate increase dramatically. Placing a hand on your waist, holding your other carefully, the man moved with you in time. His suit was almost the same shade as your dress, just a tad darker. Even with a mask on, you could recognise that smirk and smooth voice anywhere.

“I know it’s you.” You said, placing your hand on his shoulder securely. He just chuckled, spinning around as everyone else did.

“Oh, I know you do.” He responded cooly, tugging you in closer. “I saw you, all alone, wandering around. Dancing with these silly little men. Who don’t even know what they’re doing.” You could just about see an eye roll through the gaps of the mask.

“What are you doing here, Master?”

“I was just in the area.” The Master tried, twirling you around gracefully.

“Liar. You don’t do that.” You responded with a laugh, dancing along with him naturally.

“Then what do you think I’m doing here?” He questioned you, brining you back into his hold. You tilted your head, hand moving to rest on the lapels of his jacket.

“This place is filled with wealth. I imagine you’re here to collect as much as possible. Possibly for a deal, or an alliance?” The male began smiling again, dipping his head and locking eyes with you.

“Hm, you really are clever, aren’t you?”

“Not really. I’m just observant.” You grinned, not minding when both his hands moved to encase your waist.

“You doubt yourself. How human.” He muttered whilst shaking his head, taking hold of your right hand and looking at it. “I noticed you’ve done some collecting of your own.” Your cheeks flushed, lips pressing together at the prospect of being caught. “I’m impressed, she hasn’t even noticed.” The Master pressed his lips to the back of your hand, your eyes growing wide. He just chuckled at your reaction. “Did you know, she’s a duchess?”

“Really? Why didn’t she have guards then, that’s stupid.” You said, not feeling guilty in the slightest.

“Most of the rich are. They think they’re untouchable. That they’re safe.” The Master chortled, slipping his hand around your waist. Using his hand, he subtly pushed against the small of your back until your front was flush to his chest. “But they’re not.” You could feel his cool breath on your face, your face getting warm again. Feeling bold, you snaked your arms around his neck in response. He was smirking yet again, letting his dark eyes take you in. Then, he frowned. His finger ran along your exposed collar bone, dipping down your front and tapping your broach. “What is this?”

“Oh, The Doctor gave it to me just before we came here.” You explained with distaste. He didn’t look too happy either, unpinning it from your dress. With a sigh, he drew back from you. “What? What’s up with it?”

“It seems your precious Doctor doesn’t trust you.” He said, examining the broach with a clever eye. Brows furrowing, you pulled the male out of the sea of people, into a more secluded area. “Easy love, imagine how unhappy she’d be seeing you in a dark corner with me?”

“Oh I don’t care about what she thinks, Master.” You spat, ripping the ugly pin from his hand and inspecting it yourself. “What is it? I know she doesn’t trust me but why are you saying that?” You asked bewildered, but he didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he stared at you with fondness. Slipping his mask over his head, The Master made sure his hair was still straight.

“There’s a microscopic listening device in that broach.” He told you, your eyes widening. “I imagine she’s either going to listen later or plans tap in whenever she feels like it.” Everything slowly made sense to you. Why she was so desperate to travel there. Why she was adamant of you going. You swallowed the lump in your throat, unaware it had been forming.

“Can you disable it?” In response, he just held his hand out. You gave it back, watching as he pulled out his TCE and gave it a little zap. When his eyes found yours, the softness of them surprised you.

“Are you okay?” His question caught you more off guard and you couldn’t find an answer. Slowly, he took hold of your hand, moving back and pulling you to sit on two vacant chairs. The Master, oddly quiet, tilted your chin towards him and lifted your mask up.

“Where is she?”

“With Yaz. I don’t know. They left me as soon as we got here.” You muttered, eyes averting to the floor. “I honestly don’t care where she is or what she’s doing.”

He hummed, allowing you to collect your thoughts.

“Do you know why she did that?” You put the question to him, your eyes locking together once more. The Master just shook his head expectantly. “Because she knew. She knew you’d be here. She knew we’d find each other.” The realisation sunk in for him, his jaw tightening slightly. “She was so angry with me. Threatened to kick me out. Then she was fine. Because she needed to use me.” You dug your nails into your palm, knuckles turning white. Seeing this, The Master took your hand in his own, bringing your attention back to him. He brought you closer, his thumb running over the small crescent shaped cuts on your palm.

“I told you when we first met, didn’t I?” His voice was low, more kind than you’d ever heard it before. “This is what she does. She picks up humans and uses them for her own needs. Disposing of them once she’s done.” The words hurt, but it was the truth and you knew it. Blinking fast, you scoffed to yourself, annoyed with how upset you were getting. “Come here.” He opened his arms, beckoning you over. Not needing to be told twice, you shuffled closer and leant against his chest, your face pressing to the crook of his neck. The Master wound his arms around you, keeping a hand on the nape of your neck. You relaxed instantly, inhaling deeply.

“How did she even know that would work? That id bump into you? There’s hundreds of people here.” You thought out loud, moving slightly out of your comfortable spot.

“Because I always see you, (y/n).” He breathed, fingers pressing against your sensitive skin perfectly. “She knows me. She knew how I looked at you. How I cared for you.”

“You care about me?” You asked, voice low and timid in nature. With a slight tilt of his head, The Master simpered. His knuckles brushed against your cheek softly, face only inches from your own.

“You’re clever, (y/n). You know I do. Why else would I keep you alive?” You couldn’t help but laugh, leaning into his now open palm.

“That’s a low bar.”

“You say that, but this is me remember?” He scoffed, holding your face tenderly. “I’d burn this whole planet to prove my dedication to you.” It shouldn’t have, but his comment made you bashful, made you feel fuzzy and happy. Moving forward, his nose brushed against your own. “You don’t need The Doctor.”

“No, I don’t.” You agreed, looking at his lips shamefully. The Master, confident as ever, pinched your chin between his finger and thumb; drawing you in. Your lips pressed together, his kiss softer than you’d imagined. And you definitely had imagined it. Winding an arm around his neck, your free hand found his jaw, his stubble scratching your palm. Taking the lead, The Master deepened the kiss with ease, gripping your hip possessively. You hummed against his lips, relaxing into his hold almost instinctively. He pulled back regretfully, pecking your lips four more times before sitting straight. “Come with me.” He grinned, lacing your fingers together. “We can wreak havoc across the stars. Let’s own the universe together.” The words fell from his lips like a poison, infecting your mind beautifully. “What do you say, love?”

“Yes. You don’t even need to ask.” You laughed, allowing him to pull you to your feet. He gazed down at you proudly, pressing another kiss to your head. “But first.” You started, taking the broach and holding it up. “I need to return this.”

———

Hand in hand, The Master pulled you across the ballroom, sensing the Doctor a mile away with his psychic ability. You stayed behind him, pressed against his back. He was protective and you loved it. The couple were in the corner of room, standing by a long buffet table. It was Yaz who saw him first, tensing up and alerting the blonde. The Doctor turned your way with a glare, Unaware of your presence.

“What do you want?” She asked with a demanding tone, whilst Yaz stood on edge.

“Me? Oh nothing. I don’t want anything from you.” He chuckled, letting go of your hand. You came out from behind him, both girls growing shocked. Matching forwards, you threw the broach at The Doctor with a hard thud.

“You can have this back. I should have known you wouldn’t give me something, not without it being for your own gain.” You spat at her, the broach clattering on the floor. Yaz looked at her confused, holding onto The Doctors arm tightly. Taking in a breath, The Doctor looked at you with bemusement.

“What are you talking about, (y/n)?”

“Don’t play dumb with me. You were listening in on me. Recording me.” Her throat bobbed anxiously, yet her face was stoic.

“And why would I do that?” She questioned patronisingly.

“Because you were using me. To lure out The Master.” You half scoffed, shaking your head in disappointment. All she could do was stare at you. “You can’t even talk to me. Because I’m right.”

“Well it worked!” The Doctor snapped, making even Yaz flinch. “And now I can call the guards and they’ll take him away. Just as planned.” She said cockily, folding her arms with pride. Turning back, The Master and you shared a bored look. He slipped his hand onto your waist, pulling you back against him.

“Except. You know that’s not going to happen. Not now you’ve been caught out.” You laughed, cocking your head.

“I think you’ll find, you’re the one who’s wanted, Doctor.” The Master pursed his lips, looking to his left and motioning with his head. Two armed guards walked over with purpose, each grabbing one of The Doctors arms. “It’s actually a big offence to record someone without their knowledge. Along with your several hundred thousand other offences.” Her face turned white, the cuffs locking in her wrists tightly. Yaz stood frozen, unsure of what to do. The Master gave a look of faux pity, resting his chin on your shoulder comfortably. The Doctor looked at you desperately.

“(Y/n)…please.” She begged almost silently, Yaz arguing with the guards fiercely. All you did was stare at her blankly.

“Goodbye, Doctor.” She was dragged away kicking and screaming, with Yaz scrambling to follow her. You found yourself smiling. A real, sick, twisted smile. You felt ecstatic.

“That was thrilling. Don’t you agree, love?” The Master spoke, lips brushing against your ear. You hummed, turning to face him and pressing your hands to his chest. He gazed down at you, running his fingers through your hair. With a smile, he leant down and kissed you softly. You reciprocated happily, even if it was only brief. “Shall we head off, sweetheart?” He asked, twirling your hair playfully.

“We could. Or we could stay here and do some more browsing?” You suggested casually, a slight pout on your pink lips. The Master smirked, lacing your fingers together tightly.

“Oh, you read my mind darling.”

#doctor who #doctor who x y/n #dhawan master x reader #the doctor x reader #thirteenth doctor x reader #dhawan!master #the master x reader

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