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hqmillioncorn · 8 months ago

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Greet the dawn with me!

"UM okay so me, pancake and cinnamon were having dinner when babycorn knocked on the door to our room?? Hey hair was down by the way . She asked if she and cherrypit could sleep in our room for tonight? I said yes faster than i could feel nervous about it. Babycorn told me thanks and told me she would be right back with cherry and airy. Then i turned around and pancake and cinnamon were both giving me thumbs ups. Pancake went to go get some of the expensive extra snacks out so we could eat them . and i am now very nervous waiting for babycorn to come back im hiding under the covers writing in my diary."

Lalapril 4/28 with @windupnamazu's Butter, Pancake and Cinnamon

babycorn cant sleep and decides to go out for a nice walk :) then to visit someone! its a busy night

Tomorrow was the day.

The day she was going to meet with Hildibrand once again. Because of course he needed her help! And of course she was going to help him! She would do anything for him cause Hildibrand was so cool and smart and amaaaaazing!

Then one day soon Hildibrand would finally propose to her and they would get married and live happily ever after! Forever and ever!

…Or at least that’s what Babycorn used to dream of happening.

After the whole ‘Mandervillian’ thing she was having a few second thoughts about the whole thing. On the day they all learned about it, Babycorn was frozen to her chair for about an hour or two. Then she was frozen staring out of a window.

Some of it might had been because of the concussion she received earlier but most of it was the shock of the whole thing.

It sort of opened her eyes about her feelings. Did she really want to marry Hildibrand? Something about learning he was a terrifying alien had caused her feelings to immediately stagnate. Not that Babycorn was an expert in love or anything but it just didn’t feel right.

She knew what falling in love felt like. Right?

This whole conundrum was weighing on Babycorn’s mind just enough to keep her awake at night. Staring up at the ceiling wasn’t doing anything to help her either. Though it was fun occasionally seeing Cherrypit run back and forth, screaming his head off about something.

No matter what was bothering her, at least she could be happy that Cherrypit was safe. It was far nicer to be worried about issues of love than not knowing if her brother was going to be okay.

“Get back here little man!” A very angry Airy flew by with paint drawn all over her face. It seemed like a certain someone decided to a napping Airy’s face as a free canvas to practice his artistic skills on. “I’m going to make you pay for what you’ve done!!” For Airy, making someone pay usually meant trying her hardest to hit you.

Sadly her little cookie fairy fists could only hit someone so hard. Which is to say, not hard at all.

Babycorn watched as Cherrypit and Airy went back and forth, over and over. Despite that she had told them earlier it was bedtime and they needed to get some sleep for tomorrow they were still very much awake. Old habits die hard, she supposed.

As noisy as they were, Babycorn was glad for it. She had spent far too many quiet nights by herself by now.

Babycorn sighed, turning over in her bed again for what felt like the hundredth time that night.

This time Cherrypit noticed the long sigh his sister had made. “Bebe?” He jumped right over a flabbergasted Airy by bouncing off her head. A handy trick he learned the last time they had helped Hildibrand out. “OW?!” Airy, hunched over, looked back to see Cherrypit crawling onto Babycorn’s bed as he lightly began to pat her shoulder to get her attention.

“Bebe! Bebe!” Cherrypit laid his head down on Babycorn’s arm. “Bebe okay?”

Babycorn couldn’t help but laugh a little. She sat up and grabbed Cherrypit in a hug. “I’m fine! Don’t worry! Just having a little bit of trouble getting to sleep.”

“Sleep? How you gonna sleep?” Cherrypit asked. He reached a claw over to one of the bed’s pillows and started to chew on it.

“I wish I knew.”

At this point Airy had enough of being ignored. She flew her marker-covered face over to where both siblings were sitting and flew above them. “So you can’t sleep hmm…” A little bit of her magic dust was falling on both siblings. Sadly for Babycorn the dust had no instant sleeping properties to them.

Though it did make Cherrypit do a cute little sneeze. Babycorn grabbed part of her blanket and wiped Cherrypit’s nose with it.

“What if I hit you over the head with a really big stick?!” Airy asked while mimicking the movement of her hitting Babycorn over the head with something. It looked like she was enjoying the hypothetical act of doing that a little too much.

Babycorn grabbed Cherrypit and scooted away from where Airy was floating. “No thank you!!” One concussion a year was good enough for her. That being said, her record was currently ten a year but that still didn’t mean she would let Airy attack her with a huge stick.

“Well that’s all I got.” Airy shrugged and flew off somewhere to presumably clean her face.

Which left Babycorn and Cherrypit by themselves to figure things out.

Babycorn watched as her brother babbled a bunch of baby talk to himself. Something about how he was gonna bite a big piece of bread tomorrow? It sounded yummy. Babycorn wondered if there was bread for him to share with her.

While Cherrypit talked away into the night, she turned her head to see if she could see outside the window.

It was dark out and a small part of her was expecting the face of a ghost to press itself up against the window. It just felt like her luck was bad enough for something like that to happen.

“Brr…” Babycorn shivered.

Cherrypit grabbed the blanket Babycorn used before and threw it on Babycorn. “No more cold!” He assured her. Babycorn moved the blanket to where it was just covering her head. “Thanks Cherry!” Not that she was actually cold but it was still nice.

Cherrypit smiled back at her and crawled right off the bed. The toys he was playing with before on the floor had caught his eye again. From the looks of it he wasn’t going to be tired anytime soon. Which left Babycorn with more time to see if she could somehow force herself to sleep.

Then, Babycorn’s attention fell to the door.

As soon as it did she bounced off the bed, put on her pair of slippers and adjusted her pajamas. At the same time Airy happened to reappear, now with a much cleaner face free of swirls and stars. “What are you doing now?” She was still wiping her face dry with a towel.

Babycorn walked closer to the door and opened it. “I’m going outside for a little bit!”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Airy asked, “Won’t it be bad if you and Cherry get separated or something?”

Babycorn shook her head. “Nah. That doesn’t happen anymore! Rember’?” While it wasn’t entirely true that there weren’t any side effects to getting too far away from Cherrypit, it was true that Cherrypit didn’t drop dead and take over her body anymore. Thankfully. “Besides–I’m not going anywhere too far! Just getting some air!”

Airy couldn't help but wonder if that phrase was something that Babycorn heard someone say once. That would make sense, she just knew that if Babycorn hadn’t she would think it meant flying off or whatever. “Don’t you at least wanna take Cherry with you?”

Babycorn looked down at her brother. He was still busy playing with his toys. Re-enacting what looked like a pretty dramatic scenario featuring two people slap fighting on top of a giant cannon. “It’s okay! Besides, it looks like he’s having fun playing.” She would hate to interrupt whatever story he was telling. “I’ll be back really soon I promise!”

Airy knew that if Tilika were here she would probably try her hardest to convince Babycorn not to go roaming outside in Radz-at-Han by herself. Tilika practically drilled it in all of their head's that Babycorn needed to be accompanied by someone at all times while they stayed here.

Which Airy thought was ridiculous but agreeing got Tilika to shut up so she just said Sure.

It wasn’t often that the perfect opportunity presented itself. What better way to start a reign of evil than breaking a few rules? Cause that was totally what Airy was still after! Uh-huh! Yup! Yup! “Alright! Take all the time you need!” Airy cheerfully sang, waving her goodbye.

It caught Babycorn a little off guard. “O-Okay!” Babycorn opened the door and stepped outside. “Keep Airy safe! Okay Cherry?”

Cherrypit gave her a little salute as Babycorn closed the door behind her and walked away.

It was a little cold outside.

Or at least colder than Babycorn had expected. As she climbed up the steps of Paksa's path she looked up at the sky above her. It was pretty cloudy. Looking at the clouds moving made her feel kind of dizzy.

Eventually she made it to the top. The dodos that were usually running around were gone, probably sleeping in their really comfy dodo beds. Which was a shame. Babycorn had really wanted to wave hello. “Goodnight…!” Babycorn whispered in the direction she hoped the dodos would be. With any luck they heard her and wished her a goodnight too, even though she couldn’t hear them either.

It was a little quiet. Which was nice, but it made Babycorn sort of curious.

Normally it was rare for her to have a chance to walk around her without at least one person beside her. Usually that person was Tilika and she always made sure they never spent more time outside than they needed to.

Now here she was–walking around Radz-at-Han at night all by herself.

At first Babycorn didn’t mind it, since it was always nice to have someone around. But lately, she was starting to get a little worried. Was there something she didn’t know? Of course there was. Babycorn hadn’t wanted to ever think about it but every time she visited there was always a feeling in the back of her mind that there was something missing.

Something that she should know, but just didn’t.

Babycorn sat down on the grass, taking a fistful of it and sticking it in her mouth. As she chewed she stared straight ahead and tried to reach towards the part in her memories that she could feel was cut off. But no matter how close she thought she was to reaching what she thought she was missing, she always came up short.

…That was weird. Usually by now Babycorn would be having some sort of piercing headachOh there it was!! Right on time!!

Babycorn gripped the sides of her head and held in a cry of discomfort. Fearing that if anyone heard her out here they would tattle on her and she would get in big trouble.

Then just like that. It was all gone.

Babycorn looked around, there were no people around. She looked down, her cozy pajama pants were stained green alongside her hands. There was a big patch of dirt where she had taken her midnight snack from. The grass needed more salt.

None of this was helping her feel any sleepier than before. It just created more worrying thoughts in her head! What was she worried about? Why couldn't her head just decide?!

Babycorn stumbled to her feet. She was still a little out of it. The missing parts of her memories were busy trying to fill themselves out. In her stupor Babycorn’s instincts managed to take over, as her body decided to run towards the direction of someone she knew could help with her with whatever problem she had.

Then before she knew it, she was already knocking on their door.

The thought she was knocking on the wrong person’s door never even crossed her mind. It should be noted that Babycorn was not very smart.

It should also be noted that this was not the first time something like this had happened.

Somewhere in Radz-at-Han Butter, Pancake and Cinnamon were busy having their own interesting night.

Pancake and Cinnamon were very busy testing out the local cuisine by ordering as many different drinks as they could and rating them on a scale of one to ten. As their entire budget was being covered they went ahead and ordered to their heart's content.

Surely Lunya Lanya herself would be very proud of them.

Butter, meanwhile, was busy writing in his diary.

In a way he was in the same boat as Babycorn. He was restless about tomorrow. So much so that he couldn’t stop thinking about it. On the other hand his reason was a bit different than why Babycorn couldn’t get herself to sleep.

He couldn’t help but think about what if tomorrow was the day Hildibrand finally opened his eyes and realized that Babycorn was in love with him. Then he would sweep Babycorn off her feet and they would ride off into the sunset.

Would Butter be happy for Babycorn? Yeah, of course.

And would Butter wish a thousand deaths upon Hildibrand at the same time? Well no duh.

The same sort of worries had spiraled around his head the last time they all went to help Hildibrand. His biggest fear was that if he didn’t tell Babycorn his true feelings before it was too late, then he would never get the chance to.

Butter groaned and let his head fall flat onto his diary. “I love Babycorn…” He mumbled to himself. With his face buried in his book however, it came out very muffled and no one could possibly understand what he had said.

No one, except maybe his dear sister. “Does that mean you’re finally gonna ask her out tomorrow?” Pancake chimed in.

Butter lifted his head up ever so slightly and gently pushed Pancake away.

Pancake crossed her arms and leaned herself against the wall. “Come on Butter! Time's-a-ticking and I’m not getting any younger!!”

“What does your age have to do with anything???”

“Everything! Cause I’m gonna die of old age before you tell Babycorn anything!!”

Before their conversation could continue, a knock at the door interrupted them. “I got it!!” Pancake yelled, running to get it. No one was exactly racing her to get it but the important thing is that she won either way. When Pancake opened the door she saw–nothing. “Huh?” Then she looked down and saw Babycorn! Her pants were stained green and she looked a little tired.

“Hi Pancake! Sorry if I woke you guys up! I was just wondering if I could ask about something?” Babycorn nervously smiled, rocking back and forth.

Pancake was going to answer in a completely normal way but stopped herself. She smirked, a plan brewing in her head. “Oh yeah no problem!” She turned back and cupped her hands around her mouth and yelled, “BUTTER!!! YOUR GIRLFRIEND IS AT THE DOOR!!!!!!!!!!”

She hummed to herself as she heard the telltale signs of Butter scrambling himself off the bed and running towards her. “I’ll let you two talk it out!” Pancake happily bounced herself off the door and back into the room just in time for Butter to reach her.

“Hey Butts!” Babycorn smiled. Like usual she didn’t notice the nervous smile on Butter’s face.

“H-Hey Babycorn!!” Butter honestly didn’t know where to start. A million thoughts were zipping around his head at once. It was probably better to clear up any misconceptions before anything. “D-Don’t listen to Pancake! I didn’t call you my girlfriend! I-I mean not that I wouldn’t want to-! I mean who said that?! I’m just-”

Thankfully for Butter, Babycorn interrupted him before he could say anything else that would turn his face even redder than it already was. “But I’m a girl!”

Butter looked at her, blinking just a little too fast. “Y-Yeah!”

“And I’m your friend…?” Babycorn’s eyes began to water. “R-Right…?!”

“Of course! Of course you are!!”

“Then I’m your girl friend!!”

Butter decided to give up. Not only because this type of talk had already happened countless times before but also because the way Babycorn was smiling at him was so cute he was feeling his knees turn to jelly in real time. “So? What did y-you wanna ask us?” Butter struggled to ask.

For a few seconds Butter regretted asking, because as soon as he did, Babycorn’s smile disappeared. “I was just wondering if…” She tapped her fingers together nervously, looking away. “Could me and Cherry and Airy sleep with you guys tonight? If it’s not a lot of trouble?”

“Yeah! It’s no trouble!” Butter immediately answered. Even Pancake and Cinnamon were caught off guard by how quickly he answered and they weren’t the only ones.

“Huh? Really?” Babycorn was a little surprised. She had planned out a whole explanation in her head and everything. It would be a waste not to explain herself, if only just a little bit. “It’s just…I’ve been having trouble sleeping and I just thought maybe it would be easier to sleep if I…” Babycorn trailed off.

“If you were?” Butter asked.

“...If I felt safe. You know?”

That’s not to say Babycorn didn’t feel safe around Cherrypit or Airy, but if anything happened to her she wanted to make sure someone else could protect them if she couldn’t. “I just feel safe when I’m around you Butts!” She smiled, holding her hands together.

Butter couldn’t blush any harder. “I-I’m glad-!” Because there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to protect you, he wanted to say. In the end, he ultimately just let Babycorn know she could come over anytime she wanted to. “We’ll be here all night! We’re not going anywhere!” He assured her.

“Great!” Babycorn turned and began her run back to her room but not before turning back one more time and shouting back, “Don’t worry I’ll bring all the blankets and pillows we need! And me and Cherry can sleep on the floor! Airy brings her own bed!” With that out of the way Babycorn ran off again.

Butter waved at her until she was out of view. A lovestruck smile on his face.

True to her word Babycorn had arrived with almost a mountain of blankets and pillows balanced on her head and some of them on Cherrypit’s head too. Airy was dragging a small doll bed behind her.

Judging from the scowl on her face she was much less happier about this arrangement than Babycorn and Cherrypit were.

Her attitude took a turn for the positive when it turned out that Cinnamon had some extra sweets to share with her sister as they gossiped all about Babycorn and Butter respectively.

Cinnamon had a lot of the usual to say but Airy had some new juicy gossip of her own…

Meanwhile both Starsinger siblings had easily inserted themselves into Pancake’s drink judgment bracket. There were plenty of smoothies to go around and even then she could just order some more from the allowance Tsuna gave her earlier. Butter had joined in too, deciding right off the bat that the first pineapple smoothie he tried was the best.

It had felt a lot like this had turned into an impromptu sleepover rather than a way to help Babycorn get to sleep.

Though as the night went on–the more tired everyone began to get.

Cherrypit was the first to fall asleep. Wrapped in Babycorn’s arms in the middle of a triple triad match between Babycorn and Butter. Which Butter ended up winning by default because Babycorn had ended up eating half of one of her cards by accident.

Next was Pancake, who swore up and down the room that she was only going to close her eyes for a minute or two as she got comfy on her bed. Even as she was talking Butter was shaking his head, knowing his sister much too well. He ended up being right. As soon as Pancake’s head hit the pillow she was out like a light.

That left just Babycorn and Butter awake. Alongside their fairy companions.

Both of them decided to go ahead and start setting up the numerous blankets that Babycorn brought with her. There were so many of them that piling them up was just as good as bringing a whole other bed into the room.

Or at least, to Babycorn it did. “Come on Cherry…” Babycorn whispered, gently picking her brother up and carrying him onto their makeshift bed.

After she covered him in a warm blanket she took a seat on the floor, letting out a sigh. She was more tired now, that was true, but there was still some worry left in her about tomorrow.

Babycorn looked over to see what Butter was doing. He had just finished checking up on Pancake and had gone over to his own bed. Weirdly enough Babycorn noticed him looking at her then he would look surprised and look away really fast. She poked her own nose. Did she have something on her face again?

Eventually Butter got off his bed and walked over to the window, a book in his hands. Butter took the book and slipped it under some extra pillows. He was really hoping no one would notice what he was doing. Especially not Babycorn.

“What are ya doing Butts?” Babycorn just happened to ask. She was standing up on her tippy-toes to see if she could get a better view of what he was doing.

In a panic, Butter was caught entirely off guard. “Just hiding my diary!” WHY DID I SAY THAT!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“Oh! Cool!” She had no idea what a diary was.

Butter hid his diary as fast as he could and rushed back as fast as he could. But before he could even get close enough to hide under the covers–Babycorn called out to him.

“Hey Butter? Can I ask you a question?”

“Yeah!” Butter answered, turning to look at her. “What’s up?

Babycorn took a deep breath. She sat down on the floor, clutching a pillow tightly. “Do you think Hildibrand loves me?”

Butter froze. For a second he even stopped breathing completely. He turned around to look at Babycorn. His eyes met hers. It was like staring into a warm summer day, he couldn’t help but be drawn in. Butter walked up to Babycorn and knelt down in front of her. As much as he didn’t want to think about Hildibrand he knew there was only one answer to the question.

“I think…” Butter struggled to speak. “I think he would be crazy not to be in love with you.”

Babycorn was stunned. “Do you really think so?!”

“Y-Yeah!!” Butter smiled, gritting his teeth. “No. Doubt. About. It.”

“I see…” She noticed that Butter looked really happy to be telling her that. Of course he would be, he was like one of her bestie best friends. Just all her other friends! Because of that she didn’t have the heart to tell him how she really felt.

If Hildibrand proposed to her tomorrow, well, she had no idea how she was going to react.

“Hey Butts? You’re coming to help tomorrow right?”

As much as Butter wished that he didn’t have to go through another whole day or more of seeing Babycorn making googly eyes at Hildibrand, of course he was going to help. “I wouldn’t miss it for anything! Ahahaha…”

That was a relief! “I’m glad you’re coming with!” It just wouldn’t be as fun without Butter and everyone else around! As long as he was around then maybe Babycorn wouldn’t have to spend another four hours sitting on a chair scared out of her mind about aliens.

Why, oh why, was marriage and love just so complicated? She bemoaned.

Why couldn’t everything be as easy as eating worms from the wet ground?

As dawn broke through, Cinnamon and Airy giggled quietly to themselves.

Airy poked her head out from behind a fort of blankets they had created to hide themselves behind just in case anyone woke up and interrupted their secret plan. “I literally can’t believe this.” A part of her wanted to just fly in and kick them awake but Cinnamon managed to convince her to hold back the violence. Using nothing but a delicious cookie,

The (self-proclaimed) more artistic of the sisters was furiously drawing as fast as she could. “Have they moved at all yet?” Cinnamon cried out.

“Nope. Still the same as last BAJILLION times you asked.”

“Okay! Good!” Cinnamon continued to draw as fast as she could. “Just a little bit more…!” As soon as she was finished with it she would go ahead and place it inside of Butter’s diary, right on the newest page so it could be the first thing he would see when he opened it back up.

She had to be quick, because any second now either Babycorn or Butter would wake up and ruin her reference. It was hard for her to draw any faster. Small as she was, drawing for her meant almost carrying a pencil across a page.

But it would all be worth it when she finished.

Cinnamon needed Butter to know that they had fallen asleep sitting next to each other. Babycorn resting her head on his shoulder and holding their hands together.

A smile on their faces.

#lalapril #lalapril 2024 #Babycorn #Cherrypit #Airy #Butter #Pancake #Cinnamon #buttercorn #phew #this was the last one i wrote for this year and its the one that made me the most nervous #anyway i think babycorn keeps these feelings all the way to dawntrail hildibrand quests #she doesnt get to hear theyre not actual aliens and nobody tells her opps #babycorns scared of aliens but shes got some dragon in her and shes gonna find that out next expansion probably and stare out a window agai #anyway i love buttercorn i hate them #i love using butters diary as future writing prompts i ll probably do it again

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bbarican · 2 years ago

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june 04, 2023; 8:46 pm - should we just keep driving?

hi tumblr! how are you guys doing? how was everyone’s weekend? ako, im ready to talk about my date yesterday so if youre bored and you wanna join me in dissecting the events of yesterday’s date then please feel free to read along

we met up in coffee academics and it felt almost nostalgic seeing him again? kasi the last time we saw each other was early 2022 and alot has happened since then and i ultimately felt like “im so glad he’s meeting this version of myself naman”

it was really fun, like it was so good to remember how fun it actually is whenever we’re together; ang ingay niya, pero ako rin, tapos ang kulit namin saka ang gulo ng mga topics namin and i enjoyed every single bit of it, we talked about serious stuff as in we really wanted to know kung anong nagbago samin and also we were talking about aliens and weird stuff like that basta tawa kami ng tawa

he was nice enough to go with me to atc to buy food for my family and back to molito again kasi he was parked there

we ended up hanging out a bit sa car niya for a bit in the same parking spot just talking and listening to music and eventually thinking of somewhere else to go kasi nga we didnt want to go home pa naman; he also asked if i still remember the name he gave his car and ofcourse i still remembered it and i dont think im ever gonna not remember it

we ended up going to a more quiet parking spot away from the malls and just remembering everything now is making me emotional?

he opened up the back door of his car (the type na paside yung open ng door) and we just talked - we talked for hours as in we were there from siguro 7 pm to 11 pm just talking

okay so ofcourse there was some flirting and i loved every bit of it and he was really touchy which i really loved too pero the fact na he initiated converstations really had me feeling really good and fuzzy inside? i was telling my bestfriends na it felt so refreshing to just talk to someone about everything and anything after months of just keeping everything to myself

we laughed lot - i cant explain why or how but this is so important to me, and i think im craving this more than sex?

we did end up making out but again that was just the cherry on top of everything else just being so good

but there are things na i got to take away from my our date last night which i guess would help me from putting a label on how im feeling right now:

he isnt really looking into dating seriously so thats the catch, and tbh i dont know if he ever will be and if im even going to be on his list of people he would even want to consider dating?

with that being said, and i actually told him this din - i actually dont have enough time and energy to wait around for him or for anyone who would be similar to him

kaya ang sakin lang is - im just glad i got to show him who i really am and i hope thats enough for him to see what he could lose if he does end up not pursuing me

im glad na i also got to show him who i am genuinely and im also glad na atleast now, i really know what i want in a relationship

it wouldve been nice if siya yung person na makukuha ko, but atleast he was the one to show me na it is possibe to have the type of relationship na im looking for and that hopefully it will just take some time before i get to have that experience for real and for good

im a bit sad now kasi nga this just proves na stuff like this always and will always rarely happen to me nalang, but im still trying to be as patient and hopefully as i can be

so yeah - i wouldnt say na back to zero ako, but im just glad na everything happened the way it did; its weird too kasi in coffee academics, the neone sign beside me literally stated “youre exactly where you need to be” and i knew that meant something kaaagd

if youve made it to the end of my post, thank you for reading along. ikaw, what do you think? id love to hear your thoughts (tbh just so i stop thinking about all of this) but also id love the company cause everything feels really bittersweet right now

but yeah - i hope the evening goes well for all of us; we all deserve to rest before conquering another week

#bbarican #personal #thoughts #writings #life #love #rant #dump #update #date #dating #love life

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wincore · 4 years ago

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runway (m) | jung yoonoh

pairing: model!jaehyun x fashion designer!reader

words: 18.7k

summary: there are some things that come with dedicating your life to fashion: a taste for finer fabrics, a splash of love for art, and an appreciation of the human body. none of these are supposed to include the hottest model you have ever laid eyes on, or the fact that you completely, utterly hate his guts.

genre: enemies to lovers, angst, fluff, light smut, comedy-ish

warnings: sexual content, mentions of anxiety

a/n: woohooooooo she’s finally here!!!! i cant believe this!! everything aside, i do not have first hand experience working in the fashion industry so please do take this with a grain of salt. i’m also going to pass out. good night <3

A list of things you appreciate: colours, satin, comfort.

A list of things you do not appreciate: Jung Yoonoh. Jaehyun. Whatever.

The hum of the car engine has little effect on you; you travel like this almost every day. Tall buildings, scorching pavement, the blare of traffic—it’s Seoul, after all. You sigh, more of a short expression of annoyance, scrolling down with your thumb and back up again. Since when did he get permission to post pictures from pre-fittings? And one of your works, no less.

His feed is so messy. You click your tongue. For a model, that is.

You open the story again and consider messaging him. It’s your cherry red coat, or rather the collar of it, golden thread sewn in swirls of patterns, and a sheer floral shirt extending all the way up to cover Jaehyun’s neck. You frown. It’s meant for showcase, not teasers. Even if the picture extends just from the curve of his shoulder to his parted lips, you can’t stand the sight of it on him. It’s not bias, you try to tell yourself. This is business. You tap your fingertips rapidly against the back of your phone. This is obviously business.

Seoul Fashion Week is the height of your anxiety, which means you have little regard for anything else decorated around you. With a new frenzy arising in every minute of your day—you don’t have time to think, a sense of madness in the way you keep busy. Your Elixir collection is more than what you had hoped for it to be, a twinge of satisfaction sitting at the pit of your stomach. It nicely puts together everything rich and extravagant, humanity’s first love—everything you despise really, so Jaehyun wasn’t a bad choice for a model.

You backspace on your text. Is this rude? Should you care if you’re being rude? How unprofessional, you imagine his voice saying. It wouldn’t be the first unprofessional thing you’d done.

The final text reads ‘Glad you’re enjoying my designs, but they were not meant to be publicly displayed before the official show, as common sense predicts.’

No, of course you’re not trying to be snarky. It’s perfectly formal. All that time writing professional complaint letters to companies for ripping off your designs paid off, you suppose.

You exit the Uber, thanking the driver quickly before you rush into the building, checking the time on your watch. It’s sunny, and hotter than you anticipated. You can only hope it’s cooler tomorrow so the heat doesn’t suffocate your models.

The company building is another madness in its own. Joohyun greets you with a quick smile, a bunch of fabrics being handed to her before she can make any conversation with you, and the rest of the workers bow in greeting before getting back to their own individual windstorms. You step over a few boxes on the grounds, beelining to your workspace so you can settle down your bag.

You’re team leader, you tell yourself, a short breath tumbling out of your mouth. Even so, you don’t do very well under several pairs of eyes on you at once. Some part of you is still the timid fashion designer, packing your entire identity into a small sketchbook.

The sunlight is blaring out of control in the place—it’s meant to be spacious and sunlit, of course, but the heat makes you adjust your collar before you can move forward. The bustle of the style and design team along with the production team in the same place is akin to a nightmare, and you trace your steps quickly.

“Guys,” you begin, fidgeting with the leather strap of your watch as you continue, “Firstly, good job.”

There’s a bunch of short cheers and clapping to interrupt before you can continue.

“As for tomorrow…stylists, I need you to touch up the collars in all the Western-style coats. The detailing needs to be kept clean and sharp. I want the audience to be able to see it.”

You pause, your tone still neutral. “And let’s not start again on the lacing. We had that discussion yesterday.”

There’s some nods and sounds of affirmation.

“Production team…I don’t think I can say much to you without Doyoung getting on my case.”

There’s collective laughter and you crack a smile. With a few more rapid words, you dismiss yourself, walking over to your colleagues to help them out. You’re team leader, the one with the final say in all the designs, but you can’t possibly imagine completing it without Joohyun or the others.

“Good pep talk there, (name),” Joohyun says, walking over to you as her hands sharp and steady as they go through the clothes rack.

“They think I’m an asshole,” you say, breathing out. You know your words are too direct. Drunk co-workers on a Friday night are not the best place to discover facts about yourself. Sometimes even you think you sound bossy. You check the key parts for each item, knowing you’ll be doing this once again before the show.

“We wouldn’t be going anywhere without direction,” Joohyun responds, laughing as if you’d said something silly. “We’re all glad you’re here, (name).”

Words like these are so easing for a mess like you, not that you’d admit it. Joohyun has always been a sort of mother figure to you after you entered this company, followed by Doyoung. A good few years senior to you, she started out as a model before she moved on to designing.

It’s her last year working in this place. But of course, it’s a given when she’s starting her own label (mom clothes and children’s apparel, she’d called her clothing line, rolling her eyes) and one of the most well-known names in South Korean fashion not having her own label is sacrilege (according to your colleagues anyway). She’d said to contact her when you start your own family, and maybe she’ll send a congratulations package for both you and your baby. You’d laughed. Out of all the insults you could ever receive, that was perhaps the loveliest one.

Ridiculousness aside, you’ll miss the comfort of her presence. You were still in school when your designs led you to a showcase in New York Fashion Week, your sponsor more than generous. You stepped into it too soon, too eager. It was breath-taking and awful all at once—and the first time you saw a world outside of your own. It was overwhelming. There are few people in this new world as kind as Joohyun.

The sound of your notification snaps you out of your thoughts. You swear you kept it on vibrate, a little irked at having to search for your phone when your hands are full. The notification itself brings on a stronger wave of vexation.

_jeongjaehyun:

My manager told me it was good publicity

But I could take it down for you

The ‘for you’ adds an unnecessary effect, you think as you hold back a scowl. And what does ‘could’ mean? A miscommunication with the sales team isn’t even on the list of things you need to worry about. Honestly, you don’t have time to fight him, quickly typing out a ‘whatever. it’s okay’ before looking back up.

You jump, the look on Joohyun’s face a little suspicious for what might come out of her mouth.

“It’s not a crime to text people.” She shrugs, shuffling through the rack one more time to take the clothes for transportation.

You’re quick to jump to your defence. “I have nothing to do with him.”

Joohyun looks at you, amused. “He’s not a bad person, you know? How long are you going to keep hating him for one thing he did?”

“It’s not one thing,” you groan, averting your gaze to the clothes so as to help her. “I just- he’s so- so- oh come on. You know how I feel about him.”

“I’m just saying you don’t have any reason to. Everyone’s different from what they appear to be. Especially in this line of work.” Joohyun balances the clothes you give her across her forearms.

“So he’s fake. I hate that even more.” You sigh, pulling out the blue silk overcoat, the colour matching Joohyun’s work dress.

“You mean unreal? Models tend to be that way—don’t be so harsh on him, honey.”

You simply shake your head, words entering one ear and out the other. Joohyun presses her lips into a line but lets it go soon enough. She knows you’re capable enough to separate professional from personal and that should be enough. You’re not keeping a tab on something as warming as spite.

You can’t believe you’d ever been within five feet of him without turning your nose. You can’t believe you’d smiled at his jokes once, even if it was just that one night. He was the godsent Prince Charming, just perhaps not yours. Paris surely had a distressing effect on you that year.

You don’t make the same mistake twice.

You walk back to your desk to take a seat and scavenge through your belongings, most of the people already outside. Fashion Week, which once upon a time was a faraway dream, now is part of life—exciting and exhausting. It’s almost always over in a flash, your love for it whisked in peaks of bittersweet. (“You work your ass off for six months and it’s, what, fifteen minutes long?” your mother had asked after you’d brought her to one of the shows.)

This line of work is a nightmare without mental preparation. You have a degree, you have experience and yet it doesn’t feel enough, confidence easier to drain in a person than blood. And you’re not very fond of pale cheeks.

It came to asking yourself if you really have it in you for a few months—a test of sorts everyone puts themselves through at least once in their lives. At that time, your favourite professor, a bald man nearing his retirement years with the wrinkliest face you’d ever seen, had asked you just one question.

Do you love it?

Of course you fucking do.

You couldn’t say that to his face, sure, but you know he saw it in you—either the effort you put out every day of the semester or the way your hands moved across fabric like a machine, your designs made with the persistence of nature. Your final year project landed you an internship at one of the largest clothing brands in Seoul and your internship landed you a job at the same. Your job, well, lead you to Jaehyun, among many other things.

You scowl at the image of his face that appears when you close your eyes, massaging your forehead—it’s hard to not see it everywhere already, from Cosmopolitan to Vogue.

While you were biting your nails in New York, Jaehyun had flown out to Paris with Saint Laurent, one of the younger male models to show his face for the first time. He’d taken the whole place by storm, you had heard from a friend. To say half the world had fallen in love—either with his dimples or his confident walk—would be an understatement. A privilege, to be gold-plated in a mercenary world.

You’d briefly made eye contact at the airport the first time you saw him, a year later, when you were arriving in Incheon and he was leaving it. It was London, that time. For him, Milan. As much as you couldn’t believe living a fashion student’s dream, Jaehyun’s face was truly, unironically much more unrealistic. Your classmates’ gabs and gossip in sewing class had suddenly made sense. You taught yourself to not be swayed by faces, even if they look like they’re stitched together by Aphrodite and Apollo with their bare hands—friendly advice from seniors at the orientation night ‘party’.

You’d met him formally in Paris, after you’d graduated from fashion school. He was certainly the most beautiful face in the room—and you weren’t the only one aware of it. The entire night you’d been starting conversations you couldn’t relate to, till he came along with his charming dimples and a faux connect. You were naive, and a little tipsy. The attraction was obvious, and it had been you by the bathroom pulling him in for a drunk kiss till he’d snapped out of the daze—as if it were some joke you’d been playing. He’d apologized before leaving, like it wasn’t a big deal, with silken lips parted in a gesture of remorse and a short, firm bow. It didn’t settle very well alongside the merlot in your gut.

You. You’re a big deal.

You were alone in a room full of painted faces and he sat atop the throne they worshipped. Why had you expected any more from him—in the understanding nods or the few kind words that escaped his lips? You felt stupid. He made you feel like smiling for the first time that night and you hated him for it—you’re sure he doesn’t care either way. Or maybe he does, with the wonderfully irked responses he graces you with.

Jaehyun made something out of himself in these nine years, just as you have. Runway supermodel to the face of South Korean men in fashion to an entrepreneur, he might as well have a documentary on him—and he would if he didn’t evade paparazzi and reporters like his life depended on it. Enigmatic, the articles wrote. You scoffed. Conceited, more like. After the initial years, he decided to settle in New York, frequently flying to Seoul and other fashion capitals for business and contractual events. Some of those occasionally include your shows.

Having Jaehyun gets more attention but it’s not like you’re a new, doe-eyed kid. Your works have been featured for popstars and foreign celebrities, and you’ve been invited to several interviews with big magazines. You’ve gone global (albeit under the brand’s name) and you’ve been to places you’d only seen pictures of in the very same magazines you looked up to. They can describe your work as unique all they want—and you don’t mean to sound fucking pretentious—but your job is nothing more than an expression of the self. It’s a part of you; you first started sewing patches onto things simply because your closet lacked colour. And eventually, you found yourself searching for more—colours, fabrics, dreams. You’re devoted to your job because you love it, you want to do it. You’re allowed to be a little arrogant about it.

If only trying desperately to be arrogant did something about your insecurities.

You hope your works redefine themes, your need to stand out contrasting with your fear of it. Eye-catching is always your forte; this time it’s fairy tales and royalty in a mix of East meets West.

D-1. Same feeling, new season.

The press is here, you take note. Photographers. Models. Students. Vloggers. It’s a burst of colours down there.

You hate running late, rushing down the stairs to the plaza through the crowds of people. Some recognize you, as they make their way to you but you end up walking a little faster to minimize your presence. You curse yourself for wearing the jacket. It goes nicely with the rest of your outfit and March isn’t supposed to be this hot. You wipe the sweat from your hairline, hoping the makeup is waterproof like it said.

You consider stopping at the café for a fix of coffee but stop when you notice Joohyun holding a bunch of cups by the venue. She doesn’t look too happy about the sun, or the burdening errand of fetching coffee. You adjust her little red beret at her request, smiling at her annoyance but trying your best to keep it hidden. You don’t want to get cussed out by Joohyun.

“Someone tell Doyoung to get his coffee,” Joohyun complains. “I’ve been waiting for half an hour.”

“I’m sure that’s an exaggeration,” you say, sipping your coffee. The taste fills your senses with a pleasant dose of energy and you hum out a satisfied note. “Why are there so many students out here? Influencers? Did we sponsor this many kids?”

Joohyun shakes her head. “Jaehyun just got here.”

You suppress an eye-roll. “Wonder why he still comes back for Seoul when he’s booked full for New York.”

“It’s his hometown.” Joohyun shrugs. “I’d come back too. Even if I’m paid more out there.”

You finish your coffee and duck into the fitting room, much to Joohyun’s displeasure as she’s left alone again. Doyoung’s in for an earful, you chuckle thinking about it.

It would look like a hell of a mess to anyone not accustomed to this. Everyone is a flurry by themselves alone but if you mix them with the eclectic crowd you find at a Seoul Fashion Week backstage, it’s more of a disaster. A colorful one, at the very least.

New York was worse. You were too young, in a world that was too big. It’s a miracle you even received an opportunity from so big a name. But, you suppose, it hardly matters now.

You no longer live in a world where Seoul is far from Paris. Fashion and art are things unmarked by place of origin.

It’s easy to spot Jaehyun in a corner, two people adjusting his coat for better fitting at the waist. His makeup’s done, you notice as you get closer. Good, you think. If any makeup were to get on the fabric, you’d go feral (although you do have full confidence in the makeup artists here and their choice of product).

“Jaehyun,” you greet. Your co-workers give each other a look before excusing themselves. You raise an eyebrow, too late to stop them. They didn’t finish the looping of the belt properly, you take notice. You wrinkle your nose. Sloppy.

“(name).” He responds with an equal lack of amusement.

You pull the belt at his waist, Jaehyun stiffening at the contact.

“What are you doing?” he asks, looking down at you with a raised eyebrow.

“My job? What do you think, genius?”

Jaehyun presses his lips together and lets you complete the altercations. The chiffon shirt allows you to see the hazed definition of his core, a rather flustering thing to be exposed to for anyone with eyes. When you look up in a moment’s mistake, you’re reminded of why his face is everywhere. Flawless, almost. You hate it. Averting your eyes, you fix the collar so the pattern stands out more. You can feel his eyes over your outstretched hand all the way to your face, subtle as ever. If Jaehyun thinks you’re bothered by it, he’s an idiot for believing so.

You take a step back to analyse the coat. The golden threads are flawlessly detailed, spiraling in patterns of different flowers and vines around the collar, gradually getting larger as they twine at the base of the neck. They meet the polished rhinestone buttons a little lower. You almost smile. You’d sewn each thread and each button in yourself the first time. It hardly looks the same now.

Bright red is an eyesore if you look at it longer than five minutes, you realize. The frown that’s been itching to show up finally does. Suddenly, you’re glad Jaehyun is modelling this piece. You shake your head and look back at his face, from his deep-set brown eyes to his full, tinted lips before pausing. The little Swarovski pearls line strands of his hair in a starry display, perfect in every angle of it. It’s easy to appreciate the human beauty when you see his face, and even if you claim your vehement dislike for him, you’re not a liar nor an idiot.

How infuriating it is, to let things be. Bad blood can only dry to an ugly, unusable brown.

You narrow your eyes at the thinning layer of glitter on his peach-blushed cheeks. He doesn’t exactly need much more of it but the unevenness bothers you.

“Your makeup needs retouching,” you say, frowning. “Did you touch your face? I thought you were a more...professional model than this, Jaehyun.”

“You walked in,” he replies, casually. “I was distracted.”

You feel your cheeks colour. “That’s- that’s not a reason.”

He smiles politely. “I suppose I’ll leave you then. You must have other work to do.”

You hold back a biting remark. His playfulness doesn’t sit well with you; he’s polite just enough to annoy you and straightforward just enough to make you want to throw something at him. He could’ve directly told you to fuck off maybe—but oh no, it’s Jung Yoonoh, seamless and radiant, with only the sweetest collection of words on his tongue. You think of the first time you met, something warm in the corner of your heart. You’d mistaken it, of course.

He didn’t care for you, or any of the people trailing after him and his silver flute, or the rest of the shallow carcass of a world so undeniably obsessed with him. It didn’t hit you till he’d left you hanging, mangled memories of something close to hurt. You’re glad you didn’t kiss him. You wouldn’t be able to get over the embarrassment, the blow to your pride had it escalated any further.

And of course, the one thing he did to make you absolutely certain of his distaste—was simply choose another designer’s work over yours when given a choice. It seems silly, unprofessional even, but the lack of response to your Fall/Winter ready-to-wear collection had been embarrassingly low, someone else’s designs sold out at an equally awful rate. You—your insecurities—wanted to blame your own failings—maybe it was the lining of the coats, or the colours maybe— the fabric? Perhaps, you hadn’t focused on comfort all too well. But it was clear, a word from Jung Yoonoh could change the minds of a fashion-forward youth as easily as his face and physique scored contracts with the biggest brands and labels. And it was clear he didn’t like you very much.

You walk over to the other models, eyes scanning down to the T. You glance over one of Joohyun’s designs, a modern men’s hanbok. The blood red paired with yellow is certainly easing on the eyes, though the shades vary from top to bottom, like a sunset. The dark grey chunky shoes fitted under dark tights complete the entire future oriental look you suppose she was going for. She’s only showcasing two of her designs this year and they’re just before the centrepiece. You shake your head, clutching the fabric of your jacket sleeve. You hate seeing other designs before a showcase, even if they’re a friend’s.

You turn your head to make eye contact with Jaehyun across the room. It takes a few seconds but you snap your head in another direction to break the spell.

How strange. You haven’t had nearly enough coffee to feel jittery under his gaze.

You’re forced to take a breather away from this jungle of liveliness.

The amount of people outside the venue gives you yet another headache. Excited college students and fashion vloggers stand outside expectantly, and you give a short bow and polite ‘hello’ to anyone who approaches. You desperately want to be left alone. Even if it’s for a few seconds.

You walk quickly, your feet soundless against the floor. Your mask performs considerably (and surprisingly) well in hiding you. You consider visiting the Design Market to enjoy a seat alone and charge your phone before it’s show time.

Open spaces. You need open spaces. Suddenly, the DDP seems to be suffocating you despite its tremendous size.

“Hey!” You’re greeted with a sudden force to your right side, an arm wrapping around you. You look up to see Johnny, a wide grin on his face and you let yourself mirror it, shaking your head.

“Big day,” he says. “Want me to take some pictures? I’ve got some time between shows—lovely outfit, as usual.”

It’s strange how Johnny’s the photographer and not the model—you’ve heard he receives a lot of requests to get on the other side of the camera though he always refuses. He doesn’t visit Seoul as often, but he has much to do in uplifting the mood with his strangely effective sense of humour. The coffee-coloured shirt he’s wearing goes well with the plaid grey coat, reminiscent of Fendi’s Spring collection, and sometimes you wonder whether a job as a fashion photographer ever had much to do with his style. Johnny has always been effortlessly impressive.

You politely decline, your mind still focused on the smooth running of things. Nothing’s ever on time when it comes to Fashion Weeks—yes, it’s called fashionably late but it just makes you annoyed. You consider ducking back to your venue, adding some final final touches and any more last-minute altercations. Years have passed and you’re still not used to it, fingers itching to do something about everything. You’re grateful the company gives you your creative space but it only makes you wonder just how far the limits are.

Johnny accompanies you to the charging station till he’s distracted by some of the children in the latest Fendi kidswear and you make a mental note to never bring your kids to Fashion Week, if you ever choose to have them.

You breathe in and out for a few moments, feeling lightheaded before the sense of reality touches on you. People walk in and out of the stores lining the pathways, a soft buzz of conversation in the air as your eyes follow their movement. You wonder if you’ll have your own stores opened in plazas like this—here, in Seoul, and on brightly lit streets of the world outside. After all, colourful dreams are the hardest to get rid of. You sit quietly till you get a text from Doyoung asking you to get your ass over there quickly with several exclamation marks. You smile to yourself. Joohyun might have had a sour effect on him.

You arrive back at the venue, trying to tear your eyes away from anything that might want to make you fix it. You avoid Jaehyun’s eyes even more so, like you’ll jinx something right before it’s showtime.

The buzzing reaches a peak before everything is drowned out.

The show finally starts. And it’s over. Twenty-two minutes, this time.

That’s the way it goes. You hold your breath till you’re sure it’s safe to let go, blind to everything that goes on in between. Sometimes it’s underwhelming, sometimes you can’t give a fuck when you love doing this anyway.

You breathe a sigh of joy when everyone gathers backstage, Johnny making all the models pose together for one giant group photo. It’s like a ritual for him, always finding time for a backstage picture with the models goofing off.

Jaehyun looks at you instead of the camera, a nervous shiver running through you. His gaze is not something of inconsequence, eyes piercing into you with words hanging in the air that you don’t care enough about. You think he sends you a smile, cockier than you’d like. Despite your efforts, you have to look away.

Now, what should your dear Fall collection look like? You exit by yourself, relief humming through your veins when you think of getting back to your apartment, papers to be sketched on in your hands, soft fabric to be sewn on your table. Maybe they’ll display your works in the front rows of the stores, maybe you’ll even have displays outside of Seoul. You’re not a student anymore and your job has taken you enough places.

Even so, Paris and Milan sneak into your dreams often. You used to dream of them so much that it was hard to consider them reality—finding yourself in those streets, in between all those beautiful picture-book monuments.

You prefer Seoul, you decide after conscious thinking. You don’t have to worry about the world outside.

Afterparties are not your thing.

You somehow still find yourself in them, hoping to catch a drunk video of Doyoung for blackmail or make eye contact with an attractive stranger only to stop at exchanging numbers because you never find the time.

It’s a social event. You’re supposed to be doing social things. It’s exhausting.

The last person you expect to bump into is Jaehyun, drinks in hand as he looks down at you with a greeting of surprise on his tongue. He’s wearing a simple dark Oxford button-down, two buttons at his chest undone, and tucked neatly into his pants. His hair looks untouched since afternoon, parted in messy waves, minus the pearls. The music changes to something with slower beats as you stare at each other for a few moments.

“What are you doing here?” You raise an eyebrow. There are other afterparties he could be attending. Big ones.

Jaehyun tilts his head, cracking his neck before smiling. “Charming, as always. I’m here because I want to be here, obviously. So does everyone, I’m sure.”

“Fucking narcissist,” you mutter to yourself. You think Jaehyun might have heard you because you get a dirty look thrown your way, masked with the signature apathy across his relaxed lips.

“That’s a little rich from you,” he mumbles.

The muscle by his mouth twitches but he doesn’t say anything more. This is probably the most emotion he shows, you think. Wouldn’t his lovestruck magazines relish seeing him riled up like this? They’d still find a way to fall in love with him.

You could have, too.

No way. You tell yourself that’s ridiculous.

You’re aware he’s booked for at least three other shows this week. It’s a miracle he agreed to yours, considering your mutual distaste for each other. You suppose it had more to do with his agency than himself but it wasn’t like you were the keener one. Jung Yoonoh is the face professionals look for and your company loves the publicity, although you keep telling yourself your designs would still shine without him.

Jaehyun excuses himself before you can get on with any unpleasant conversation you might have. At least you have something in common—that is, trying to avoid each other as much as possible.

A few minutes (and uncomfortably snaking through swarms of bodies) later, you find Doyoung, unfortunately sober and intending to remain so, people congratulating him with claps on the back for securing the position of PR Head. You think it was supposed to be a secret, but someone higher in the ladder must have spilled early. Joohyun never attends these, and honestly, good for her.

Afterparties are not your thing.

You shouldn’t have taken those shots but you’re on the dance floor now anyway—what more could happen? It’s easier when you’re not paranoid about all the eyes on you, dancing against a stranger with a lion tattooed against his neck. Maybe you’ll go home with him, maybe you’ll leave at the first signs of attraction. Romance isn’t quite on your to-do list, but an occasional intoxication with the skin works just fine. You could live like this for a few moments.

Your back runs into someone else’s rather forcefully and you turn around, apology bubbled up to your tongue already, mixing with the alcohol.

“Oh look.” You roll your eyes. “It’s the prince of high fashion. What can I get you today, sire?”

Jaehyun drives his tongue over his lips, quite definitely over your antics. Soft breaths leave his mouth in a rhythm irrelevant to this box of laughter and blaring music called a party. You love how he never knows how to respond—what new words will he choose to keep false dignity? If you think about it, he’s the embodiment of why you always thought everything was so out of your reach—big names, exclusive parties, not for kids like you. They were never for fashion students too honest to know their own worth.

“Jealousy isn’t a good colour on you,” he says, just loud enough for you to hear.

You scoff, a pang of annoyance sizzling through you. “Jealous? Of who? You?”

You sneer at the last part, Jaehyun’s frown deepening. Some days you just like to think you’ve won. A few moments pass between you two, the sound of pop music filling in the gaps.

Jaehyun presses closer to you, your chests almost touching as your breath hitches in your throat.

“Do you know what makes success?” he says, head dipping lower to look you in the eye. The smell of alcohol disturbs you for a second before your heartbeat gets loud enough to drown it. You try to not focus on how his mouth is so near yours—and perhaps if you were drunk enough, you might commit a mistake against the very core of your being, something you’d been dangerously close to once.

You stay quiet, the pulsing in your ears too loud in the shallow distance between the two of you. You swear it’s always the two of you pressed up like this once you’re drunk enough, the dislike growing stronger and stronger with every breath exchanged. You’ve intertwined each other into a strange garden of contempt, easy to forget when you're facing him. Jung Yoonoh has the prettiest face in the industry, and the only one you can’t bear seeing.

“It’s confidence,” he answers, as slow and steady as ever. “And there’s a thin line between confidence and arrogance I intend to keep. I’m not so sure about you.”

The rest of the night passes without conflict and you retire early, Jaehyun’s breath still hot against your face. Only when you collapse on your bed do you get an urge to shout, yell, anything that doesn’t make you call him up and scream at him. You have your precious dignity too, something he seems to look past. The effect he had on your breathing, the crawling over your skin—God, you hate him. You’re too stubborn to not continue doing it.

“What’s this?” you ask, your eyes darting in between the director of design and Lee Taeyong.

To say you were surprised to see him would be an understatement. You note the simple dark rimmed glasses in contrast with his light dyed hair, the mellow blue of his cashmere sweater sporting his own label’s logo—Lee Taeyong is a household name. You feel yourself shrink the tiniest bit.

This industry’s all about names, you think miserably. You meet people and you remember the ones who can get you ahead. It’s tiring.

Taeyong started his career even earlier than you did, and before he had changed his major to fashion. He’s a little older than you, though he doesn’t look it and he had begun with working exclusively on jackets. Several rejected designs later, he had popped up as one of the designers to look out for in Seoul Fashion Week. Now he has his own global label slowly turning brand, several worldwide stores and everything dreamers in the same place as you look up to. You think you’re fine here, you tell yourself despite that.

The director smiles at you, her hand gesturing rapidly at you to come forward.

“You’re going to be so happy,” she says, signalling Taeyong to continue.

“Uh, hi,” he greets.

A little awkward for a world-class designer, you think.

“I’m Lee Taeyong. You might have heard of me—”

“I know who you are,” you interrupt, ignoring the disapproving look of the director.

“Oh, that’s good!” He smiles. “I’ve seen your work—I’ve been following your work for a few years now…and, well, I’d love for you to work under my label—in a collaboration of sorts. You’ll have full creative freedom, of course! I’m just there more or less for supervision, really…”

You think you feel your heart stop for a few moments, Taeyong’s sudden stream of information fading out. The pinnacle of your career, you believe, had been Paris Fashion Week four years ago and you’d been dreaming of it ever since. This is a business contract, you’re sure, and you don’t know if you have a real choice but maybe you could take that step forward you’ve always wanted to.

“Isn’t that great, (name)?” The director interjects. “You get to work under the Lee Taeyong label. And…surprise! You’ll have your work presented at New York Fashion Week in September. They’ll hit the stores a week later.”

You freeze.

“New York?” you manage to squeak.

“Yep!” Her voice a notch away from annoying. She’s not the first person you’ve met who sounds so goddamn manufactured. “Pack your bags, darling. You’re flying next weekend.”

You must be looking like a deer caught in the headlights because Taeyong opens his mouth to say something, alarmed. You speak before he does.

“Okay,” you say, more to yourself than them. It should be a good thing. It’s supposed to be a good thing. Even so, you feel the anxiety in your ribcage threatening to overgrow into thorns.

“I’ll- I’ll do it,” you clarify. Looking from your manager’s bright yet stern face to the hopeful smile on Taeyong, you don’t think you have much of a choice.

New York, huh. How long has it been? You shudder at the memories, your focus a little off for the rest of the day.

Joohyun visits you a day before you leave. She places the box of chocolates on the coffee table, that Doyoung apparently sent for you.

“You know, I’m really happy you’re getting this chance,” Joohyun says, crouching down beside where you’re splayed, trying to count the travel essentials and everything else on your messy checklist.

“He gets promoted and now he can’t even come visit me, huh?” you say, shifting to grab the box and tear off the clear wrap.

Joohyun laughs. “He’s certainly enjoying his duties. I can’t wait to boss him around again after I leave.”

Your shoulders hunch, a sigh leaving your lips. “Great. You’re leaving. Doyoung’s too busy to annoy. And now I’m a part of this godforsaken project for almost six months.”

Joohyun softens a bit, running her hand through your hair. “I heard you accepted it. All by yourself. You’ll do just fine, don’t worry.”

You feel yourself turn pink, a feeling of warmth you’ve been missing for a week. It’s cozy in your apartment, always the right temperature with a tinge of happy memories. You wish you could find comfort in people as easily as others do. Everything happened so fast, you can barely remember the conversation you had with Lee Taeyong. A few moments pass, Joohyun and you picking out chocolates before you can rummage through your suitcase again.

“I hate New York, Joohyun. Just what else can you throw into the mix to make me hate it even more?”

She freezes for a fraction of a moment, pressing her lips together before clearing her throat. “Oh. Uh. I probably shouldn’t tell you what I was about to tell you then.”

You turn your head to her, eyes narrowing. “What?”

She shrugs, eyes not meeting yours. “You know. New York. Fashion capital of the world. Lots of things to love.”

“What are you not telling me, Joohyun?”

She sighs, defeated. “A certain someone might be on the same flight as you. I was about to give you his number in case you needed help.”

You pause to think, curling your lips. “It’s Jaehyun, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

You groan, dropping your head back and yelping when it hits the coffee table. Joohyun moves to rub your head and ease the pain as you let out a stream of complaints.

“You really thought I’d call him for help?” you yell. “Him? Of all people?”

“I think you’d rather have a known face there. Besides, he’s a good kid,” she reasons, looking you in the eye. “And stop yelling.”

You quieten a bit at her glare, gulping. She adds the number to your contacts, saving it with a professional ‘Jung Yoonoh’ before she helps you clean up, advising you on how to manage your finances abroad. You know she’s trying to ease you, but how could she—after dropping this awful news on you like it shouldn’t matter at all? She doesn’t even know what happened—almost happened in Paris, or the fact that your honeyed feelings had turned bitter so easily. She’s worked with him before, you know this, when he was a much younger model and she trusts him more than you ever could.

But maybe, just maybe she can’t see what you see—after all, she’s also part of the elite, crème de la crème of this industry, more so in this country. It’s frightening, and so vague what goes on up there, at the top of the chain; and whatever you have—it might never be enough.

You’re you. Sometimes, that isn’t enough.

You jump at the water rushing from the shower, too cold for skin and scramble to twist the knob the other way. This time, the water’s too hot and you yelp, shutting it off altogether.

You press your hand against the shower glass, breathing heavy. You’re trying—you’ve been desperately trying ever since you landed a week ago. Change is not something you can take lightly. You miss the dim lights of your apartment in Seoul that Joohyun always warned would get you some brand new prescription glasses. You miss walking down the streets to your favourite convenience store at three in the morning to get honey butter chips. You miss picking fights with Doyoung over which detail to scrutinise during your project discussions. This project seems to have torn apart several things that belonged to you.

You can’t seem to get your head into it either—even spacing out during the meeting you had with Lee Taeyong among several other things. You can’t remember a single design detail he’d specified or what the theme was even supposed to be—a bunch of bright foggy lights replacing whatever fuzz was growing in your head. A twenty-something-year-old shouldn’t be letting homesickness affect them like this.

You finish the rest of your shower with a heavy heart and a clouded head.

Taeyong booking a luxury suite for you was a bit…much. Not that you’re complaining, but it gives more fuel to the profound sense of emptiness you keep drawing. There’s no intimacy to this place, no love. It’s a little hard to create things without love, and comfort.

Still, you grit your teeth and get dressed into something more comfortable for the night. If not today, then tomorrow. Something will have to give, even if it costs you—whatever the hell your parents keep telling you when you’re going through problems. What if you don’t want to be cost things? Compromise isn’t as delicate as it sounds. You try to comfort yourself, rocking yourself on the much too large couch, hugging a pillow close and trying to think of things that don’t immediately make you want to throw up.

The memories of your first visit are a little less than pleasant. You think you cried after the entire ordeal because you thought you did a bad job of talking, socializing, the most ordinary things. There are some people who are good at wearing masks—good at making copper look like gold, good at shining under dim lights, and good at using words that don’t have much meaning to their existence other than being pretty.

You were not one of them.

The intense need for everything to be perfect was still there, even when you couldn’t possibly have achieved it. You wanted to make things and show them to the world—what was so wrong with that? Why did being there make you feel like you could never even touch your dreams? You were so out of place, feeling completely out of touch with yourself. There were people from the top there, established and famous. It felt out of your grasp. You felt fake.

The city lights twinkle with life but there’s no sound, the windows shut tight. The ambience of the room is kept to a caramel minimum—the best you can do to honour your sweet little home back in Seoul.

The hatred for everything pretentious was born with your first step into this place, into the game that the big boys play. It showed in your designs, your choice of fabric, your distaste for certain people. You wanted reality—you wanted a taste of life in your everyday clothes. You wanted that flavour you feel on your tongue in a room full of strangers or the one on a quiet night by yourself at your apartment rooftop. You didn’t want dignified fur coat ensembles, you wanted the naive chaos you feel every day and you wanted to make it look good. It’s driving you insane just how much you feel like you’re losing now.

You take out your phone after what seems a few minutes of contemplation.

Jung Yoonoh. Your finger hovers over the call button. What would he say if his night is interrupted by your voice?

You’d met at the airport after landing, though you were only two seats away in the plane. You’d made no error in acknowledging his presence, browsing through the inflight magazine half-heartedly. Truth be told, sometimes you couldn’t really seem to get over him. Sometimes the thought of him made you so pissed, you had no idea what to think of it.

“Welcome to New York,” he had said shortly after you’d exited, a giant crowd of people greeting out-goers, holding up placards with names of people, in numbers you’re unaccustomed to. Or, used to be accustomed to.

You hadn’t talked since—and really, you weren’t expecting to.

You press your home button, any lingering thoughts of him vanishing at the force with which you tell yourself it’s not worth it. How is Jung Yoonoh better than anyone else you know here? He might have been living in New York for quite a few years now, and he’s probably the only one you’d feel comfortable enough to swear at—that doesn’t mean you’d actually ask for help. That doesn’t mean he’d actually help. Joohyun must have had her hopes far too high to have convinced you for even a moment.

The couch feels colder all of a sudden, and you turn down the air conditioner. This place will never adjust to you, and your stubborn little self won’t either.

You think of Jaehyun from the afterparty, loose shirt and knowing eyes, and you wonder if he feels just the same frustrated agony, if not more. You think of his parted lips and breathing words close enough to be provocative, discomfort growing at the base of your stomach. Who does he think he is? He might have the airs and dignity of someone way up in the hierarchy of society but you know what people can be like. You know envy, you know malice, and you know lies. He has to fit in there somewhere—and perhaps you would have hated him less if he did.

Even if you’d scoffed at the idea of jealousy, that might very well be the closest to what you feel, what you keep hidden in the darkest corners of your locked chest. When you first met at that star-spangled dinner, you’d felt what it’s like to watch a fireworks show or a big musical opening; but the fireworks are being blocked by skyscrapers and you’re only the helping staff at the theatre, watching from a balcony at the very back. Jaehyun was impressive with barely any words. It annoyed you so much and somehow, the only solution you arrived at was the tremendous need to understand him, pick him apart and see what made him.

No. That’s wrong. You were annoyed because you still wanted to kiss him after he’d pushed you away, his dislike steaming clear. It strikes you as gently as lightning that the only reason someone would have to hate Jaehyun is being attracted so violently to him. God, you hate making a fool out of yourself.

You pass the night in quiet contemplation, promising yourself a better tomorrow. After all, no one else is going to do it.

You walk with your chin up as if you don’t feel the weight of the world on your shoulders. You picked out your black Harrington jacket to look at least a little more professional, but you might have miscalculated the size and the material in the equation because you look completely and utterly ridiculous in it. No one would look at you and think you even work in fashion, much less be competent in that line.

(To be fair, you wear the same beige sweater and black corduroy pants to work and if your coworkers choose to judge you, you wouldn’t blame them.)

It’s only been a month and somehow, it translates to forever to you. You think you’re adjusting better now, and you pat yourself on the back for it. It’s not raining today at the mercy of the skies, a tidal wave of sunlight splashing through the buildings every time you take a turn. The city doesn’t scare you all that much anymore. It’s a good day, for once.

You lean your head against the car window, eyes trailing up and down the reflective blue of each skyscraper. You can barely see any clouds, and the sky’s endlessly the same, comforting blue. Just like back home, you think for a moment. Your eyes move back to the sidewalk, people passing by—mothers with their babies in strollers, kids clutching the strap of their school bags as they run, men and women in all levels of professional clothing. No one stops in this city. Except the fucking traffic apparently.

You sigh, glancing at your watch. Only moments ago, you were moving and yet again, you’ve stopped. The cycle keeps repeating and you’re trying to keep patience focusing on things around you that you can appreciate.

Maybe you jinxed it when you said it was a good day.

You reach Taeyong’s studio just in time (not that you’d get yelled at or anything, he’s too nice of a guy). Your eyes fixate on the numbers that light up on the elevator one by one till it finally reaches the first floor.

You walk right into someone’s chest, an apology tumbling out of your lips as you bow out of habit.

“(name)?”

You look up to find Jaehyun in the elevator of Taeyong’s building, a casual white shirt clinging to his frame that’s tucked into his jeans to look somewhat formal. A pink overshirt hangs at his forearm and from the windswept styling of hair and his perfected dark locks, you’ll assume he’s here for a shoot—even without it, he looks like something from a teen magazine, someone people would see and instantly daydream of. Best known for high fashion, Jung Yoonoh is still a spectacle in casualwear.

“I can’t believe I have to see your face here too,” you mutter, getting into the elevator. You’ve had your share of moments with him.

“Good to see you too,” he says, bemused.

You make a sound of acknowledgment, taking out your phone to turn the damn notifications off so you don’t feel it vibrate in your pocket every few minutes. You feel eyes on you for a moment and snap your head to the side.

Jaehyun has his eyes focused on the door, quiet breathing fresh against his lips and you hesitate before concluding you might have been mistaken in your perception.

“You’re here for a shoot?” you ask, curious about his relationship with Taeyong.

“What else can I be here for?” He says nonchalantly.

“Sarcastic. Very nice.”

“It’s a little weird, you trying to make conversation with me. You’re usually raving about me too much to actually talk to me.” He smiles, the dimples provoking and eyes the familiar beguiling brown.

“I’m not trying to make conversation,” you hiss, crossing your arms. “I’m sorry, I forgot you’re only a person in front of cameras.”

Jaehyun takes a sharp breath before turning to you, a not-so-happy look on his face despite the calmness over his features. You’ve seen it enough times.

“How long are you going to keep up the pretentious this and pretentious that before you face it, really?” He looks at you with tight lips, poisonous implications in his question. “Why you love to get up in my case all the time?”

The words take time to settle in. You shake your head when you realize, a sardonic laugh leaving your lips. Of course he’d think that.

“Oh my god,” you scoff. “You’re so full of yourself. You think I’m interested in you? Don’t let what happened years ago get to your head.”

“That’s not what I—”

“Oh, what did you mean then? Pray tell.”

“First of all, stop cutting me off,” he says, taking a step towards you. A certain feeling of uneasiness runs through you when you detect annoyance in his quiet statement.

“Secondly,” he says, taking a another step forward just as your back hits the wall of the elevator, “Stop treating me like I’m the bane of your existence. I have nothing to do with you.”

He’s right, of course, but the words sting where they hit. Asshole, you think. He has no business telling you what to do and what not to do. But in this moment, you can’t fish for the correct words—you don’t have the strength to when you’re so close to each other like this, the scent of his cologne syrupy and sickening. His tall stature is intimidating, with his straight shoulders and proud jawline.

The elevator dings at the seventh floor, Jaehyun stepping away from you without a glance or care, striding out just as smoothly as on a runway.

You take a moment to breathe, unsaid words burning holes into your tongue. You wish you could’ve said something better, anything that didn’t make you feel so pathetic. Maybe you should’ve told him to stick his words up his ass, sounding vulgar being the least of your worries. You wait patiently to reach the last floor, each ding souring your mood little by little.

You are so glad you didn’t call him that night. To think he’d ever help you knowing it’s mutual, the whole hating each other’s guts. You just can’t believe the audacity of him—to accuse you of, what, romantic feelings? In an industry where you can’t tell apart gold from copper? Where all the people warming up to you are fair weather friends and competitors? He must have let all that attention get to his head. Runway faces aren’t as easy to fall in love with as he thinks.

“(name)! Come quick!”

Taeyong’s voice urges as soon as you enter and you settle your bag down, rushing to him. His smile drops when he sees your seething figure place your bag on the desk with a loud thud. You turn to him, without a hint of sweetened formality and ask him the day’s schedule.

Taeyong gulps before responding, undoubtedly afraid of your lips, a twitch away from a scowl, but he explains nicely nonetheless.

“Can you do a rerun of these designs for me?” he says, arranging the papers on the desk. That’s how he says these need improvement. No wonder the interns love him.

Taeyong’s in his usual attire, still too chic for you but strangely comfortable to look at. You nod, immediately scrutinising them, your (almost pointless) years of training trying to give you hints as to where you went wrong. You’re not really expecting to find big flaws or anything—just details you can enhance. You’ve learned enough about Taeyong in a month and it’s that his sense of style encompasses comfort, even in the most abstract of concepts. You respect him for that. It doesn’t change the fact that you think it’s a little overdone maybe.

Taeyong laughs, breaking you out of your daze. You raise an eyebrow.

“Is- Is something wrong?” You look at him, perplexed.

“It’s just that- It’s just you remind me a lot of the fashion students.” He smiles at you.

Your shoulders droop. Amateur. New. Unprofessional.

“Oh.”

Taeyong rephrases himself quickly, waving his hands about. “I don’t mean it as a bad thing! It just means you still…love doing it.”

It sticks with you longer than you’d expect, as you work throughout the day. You think Taeyong is too nice to criticize you properly but he eventually gets the point across—stick to the theme, written in Taeyong’s dainty handwriting and pinned to the softboard.

Secrets.

What an atrocious concept. Firstly, it makes no sense apart from sounding like a fucking lingerie collection. Secondly, when you went over Taeyong’s designs with the layers and patches, you supposed he wanted to focus on the inside of things because everything he’d drawn was inside out. Thirdly, when you heard him explain it, you were a little taken aback to hear it was going to be all about you, us. The designers, the models, the photographers, the magazine editors—there are millions and millions of people working to make sketches come to life, for a few items of clothing in someone’s closet. It feels nice to hear that from him. You promise you’re going to perfect it.

And perfection is your dear old friend.

It’s what you always strive for, but end up with something else that’s a little less beautiful. You take slow breaths, removing and adding details (after all, art is in the details). But perfection can easily grow tiresome. It makes you increasingly frustrated and you don’t think you have the heart to tell Taeyong everything in his studio stresses you out.

“So, you’re working with Jaehyun?” you ask, trying to look less antsy.

Taeyong blanks out for a moment before responding. “Yes. Why? Is he- Is he making you uncomfortable?”

Uncomfortable wouldn’t even begin to explain what he makes you feel.

“No,” you deny. “Just curious.”

Taeyong smiles. “We usually work on summer shoots together. It’s like tradition.”

“That’s…nice,” you say, trying to reciprocate his smile.

“Oh, but we’re having terrible weather so the shoots keep going longer than planned. That’s why I’m having to compromise planning time with you. Sorry about that.”

You try to keep your posture despite the mild annoyance brewing at the back of your head. Great. Now you have to see Jaehyun’s unbelievably annoying face every time you walk in. Maybe if you plead enough, you’d get permission to leave early and not want to throw some insults at him.

You decide to walk, despite Taeyong insisting his driver help you get home. He doesn’t act like it but he’s a busy man, with side projects and interviews coming up so often you lose count. It’s no wonder he had to, and you hate using this word, hire someone for the label’s next venture. You think articles like Lee Taeyong loses touch and hires designers instead of doing his job would make him upset but he seems to genuinely not let it bother him. It’s about ideas to him. His label, almost large enough to be a brand, is for ideas; what a pretty thing to base your business around. While you thought you were a big shot back in South Korea, you’re almost nothing more than Lee Taeyong’s co-designer—assistant here.

You feel drops of what you felt years ago trickling down your throat. Overshadowed. Powerless. Imposter. Something about New York makes you want to pull all your hair out. You wish you hadn’t been here in the first place, maybe then this would seem more of a fun trip than memories weighing you down. But then if you hadn’t been here, you might not have even started.

You hug yourself at the sudden downpour, clouds kind enough for it to be nothing more than showers but you’re soaked anyway. Kind, but still a little cruel. Running under the eaves of a store, you curse yourself for not bringing an umbrella the only day you needed it. You stand there for a while, just breathing.

Real life is never like movies, is it? Cameras lie. Pretty faces lie. Sometimes you end up stuck in New York rains without an umbrella or a friend to call or a lover to protect you. You end up getting an Uber, taking awfully long to arrive due to the traffic the rain had ensued and try your best to ignore the disgruntled driver mumbling about you wetting his seats.

You still don’t know how the goddamn shower works.

You manage to complete without either scorching your skin off or freezing it to Greenland and back—a feat much more successful than whatever you had going on for today. You slip into the absurdly soft mattress, pillows and covers swallowing you into a state of sleep.

You start the day almost pouring coffee onto Jaehyun’s spotless white shirt. And you might have were it not for immense self-restraint, and the fact that Taeyong’s eyes were trained on the two of you.

“So…are you two…a thing or something?” he asks, eyebrows furrowed.

“No,” Jaehyun responds calmly while you sputter it out.

Taeyong apologizes, a laugh following. “You seem to have worked together before. Jaehyun, you never told me that.”

“I…I thought you knew,” he answers, leaning back against the tabletop.

“Ah, well,” Taeyong shrugs. “Thanks for helping me out with this, (name). Maybe- maybe we can draw some inspiration for the collection from outdoors.”

“Of course,” you say as you smile wide, trying hard not to break the coffee mug in your hand.

If you’re being honest, you had a gut feeling you’d be asked to help with Taeyong’s (apparently) infamous summer shoot. He walks into his studio every morning with hair in a disarray, talking to more people than he might enjoy and the entirety of New York weather against him. There’s only so much time a man can have and under pressure, he’s going to have to choose. It’s easy to feel sorry for someone like him.

This should be the stylist’s job. Jaehyun stands with his chin up as you adjust the fitting, smoothing out creases and making sure the cerulean shirt is pinned right, satin feeling cool and nice under your fingers. Sleeveless is back in trend this summer, and so are low-cuts.

“Careful there,” he says when you hand brushes a little lower, just below the full-grain leather belt.

You hope your face isn’t steaming from the rush of heat but you manage to limit your emotions to a sound of discomfort, remembering the horrendous accusation he’d thrown at you. “I don’t care about your dick, twit.”

Jaehyun laughs, bending a little to whisper. “I wouldn’t mind if you did.”

“You look like you’re having a wonderful time making me uncomfortable.”

“You’re just so easy to work up.”

His dimples are getting on your nerves. You reach up to button his collar, perhaps a little too harsh because he chokes, an uncharacteristic sound leaving his mouth as he winces. You suppress a smile, glad you managed to do something about the look on his face.

The sunlight over this park feels like Christmas come early, with the way Taeyong is flitting from model to model and stylist to stylist with the intensity of a five year old after an ice-cream truck.

“Is he- Is he usually like this?” you ask, eyes on the makeup artist getting directions from Taeyong.

“I just assumed all of you are this way,” Jaehyun, responds looking at the same sight.

You roll your eyes. “We’re not all crazy.”

Jaehyun raises an eyebrow.

“Okay, maybe a little bit,” you correct yourself, watching Taeyong almost trip over someone’s bag in order to greet the magazine’s style director.

Jaehyun chuckles, eyes meeting yours for a moment before the two of you go about your own business.

You like magazine shoots for the most part. You never find a glass of water anywhere, but some intern or the other will definitely be there to fetch you Starbucks. There’s at least three people fussing over each model and at least two exasperated photographers trying very hard to snap clean shots. The stylist and designer look as though they might explode any minute, although the relief on their faces after it’s all over is something worth looking at. The skies are so bright and blue, you think, for a cosmopolis. The trees and shrubs lining the park are in a state of tranquility compared to the chaos it encircles.

Magazines might not be as important in an age of social media advertisement, almost part of nostalgia now—but maybe some of you are not yet willing to deny kids the thrill of reading a magazine under their blankets in the middle of the night. It often gave hope to little boys playing dress up and little girls sewing their own clothes.

You’d forgotten just how exhausting shooting with magazines is. The models must be having it worse but their masks don’t come off easy. If you had ever underestimated their job difficulty, it comes back to throttle you at full speed every time you’re at a shoot.

Looking good in front of a camera is pretty damn hard.

They don’t even get to keep the clothes, unless some asshole of a designer decides to pay them in apparel instead of actual money. Most models leave New York in debt. Men are paid even less than women. You’re surprised Jaehyun is as celebrated as he is—or the fact that he was clever enough of a businessman in launching his own high fashion-themed restaurant. You’ve heard he barely visits it, like a careless afterthought. But you’re not one to get carried away by sketchy articles on the internet. All you’ve needed are more reasons to hate him.

You sip the iced coffee, its effect pretty much worn out during humid afternoons. It’s time for a break, but no one’s willing to break momentum. You find yourself feeling a little awkward, as nothing more than a guest with creative advice, and so you sit under the comforting cool of the giant green umbrella at one of the tables. You could sink into your chair were it not so damn uncomfortable.

Jaehyun takes a seat right beside you to your surprise, offering you a box of diced mango before you fervently decline. You still think he’s an asshole. It doesn’t make any sense—why accuse you of unsaid affections and then flirt with you like he never said it? It’s not like you’re even friends, how ridiculous. There are quite a few jerks you’ve met in your life, but Jung Yoonoh really takes the cake.

“What?” you snap when his gaze gets on your nerves.

“I didn’t say anything.” He raises his hands defensively, eyes still on yours. “You don’t seem to be enjoying yourself.”

“I enjoy the air conditioned suite Taeyong booked me more than this, yes.” You sigh, leaning back. “I don’t really have anything to do.”

“I’m assuming he booked you the luxury suite on the fifteenth floor,” he says, chuckling.

You furrow your eyebrows. It’s not impossible that Jaehyun knows Taeyong’s favorite suite to book for guests.

“The view’s pretty nice from there, right? Oh, and you must be enjoying the silence.”

“I actually like the outside sounds,” you defend. “It’s calming.”

“Not when you’re on the third floor,” he says, shoving a piece of mango into his mouth with a fork. “All you hear is middle aged men screaming.”

You rest your elbow on the table, placing your chin against your palm. The shade is separated from sunlight by a thin line against his chest, pale blue satin glimmering where the sun meets it. Jaehyun’s eyes shine a darker hue of honey under the shade, moving to the box in his hands occasionally before trailing back to the background noise again. Taeyong really does love pretty fits, but this might just be one of the most gorgeous pieces you’ve seen this summer (and you’ve already been through all the ready-to-wear lookbooks you possibly could). A thought passes you in a breeze, that maybe it's the model making it seem that way.

“You’re talkative today,” you note quietly, the sun harsher on your cheeks than before.

Jaehyun shrugs, hurrying to finish all the pieces. He suddenly pulls a face, one you don’t see very often in high fashion websites and Instagram pages. It’s almost cute.

“Sour.”

You find yourself laughing, a gentle influx of peace filling the inside your chest. You quickly recover, looking back up to see Jaehyun simply staring at you, breathing. He looks caught off-guard, no camera to warn him. You straighten, your cheeks flushing with heat.

“Is- Is something wrong?”

He immediately shakes his head, more to himself than you. There’s a pause before the two of you are happily distracted. The style director appears to be gesturing at him from the other side and Jaehyun responds with a curt wave.

“You’re doing two different concepts today?”

“Three, actually.”

You raise your eyebrows. Well, they’re definitely taking advantage of the good weather. They could just photoshop it, in your opinion, but authenticity is everything when it comes to magazines nowadays.

“Well, don’t let me hold you back,” you say, your tone dismissive. “Go get changed into whatever pretty shirt Taeyong has up next in his collection.”

“The next shoot doesn’t have a shirt,” he says, the corner of his mouth quirked upward.

You almost choke on your coffee, blaming the heat for your weak state of mind. You’re just having one of those strange days—just that, nothing else.

You finish the rest of the coffee, cup resting in your hand till you find the energy to get up and find a trash can.

Jaehyun was right. This time the shoot’s a little too wet and a little too much skin for you to enjoy. The only thing added to Jaehyun above the waist are a dainty red scarf knotted over his neck and a small, flat hoop earring on his left ear. The velvet fingerless gloves, although you’re not very fond of them, complete a rather rugged yet soft look. You didn’t expect Taeyong to come up with something like that.

Jaehyun’s well-developed physique, while you’ve seen it in other shoots and online articles, is completely different when you’re a few feet away from it. The dark blue cargo pants, silken, are a signature style of Taeyong but the details don’t distract you easily enough. Funny, this is the first time you’re feeling somewhat flustered in a place full of half-naked models.

You suddenly think of reds and oranges, lilac shrubs and a hint of Burberry men’s perfume. In a way, it reminds you of the strums of the guitar your roommate used to play while you stayed up late, coming up with concepts. Cherishing, soothing—and special, just enough. The corner of your lips twitch and you take out your pocket sketchbook. It’s never too late to add a design to the collection, right? After all, you have secrets too. Maybe Taeyong was right about the outdoors for inspiration.

Something sets into motion, subtle but sharp.

The next time you walk into Taeyong’s studio, you feel the sun on your face better. Everything seems to be fitting into place, as you smooth through designs at a pace your student self would be jealous of. When Taeyong praises your work, you feel a rush of pride smearing the inside of your chest and you finally feel like everything’s not falling apart. It feels good. It feels like you’re someone.

The days go by in what seems like barely seconds—you know what they say about New York minutes. The mustard cloth draped over your desk to the cottage blue of your curtains, the colours around you change as quickly as the wind. Sometimes they’re abstract—and other times, well, they have more to do with a stranger’s eyes, or the swirls within a coffee cup. It’s the way in which transition occurs around you, that you often forget it moves something within you too.

You’ve put together some samples with Taeyong, most of them by yourself; the process of making is ever comforting, fabric even more so. You’ve sent the revised designs for production, feeling giddy about whatever is to come like it’s something new. (It shouldn’t be.)

You fucking hate how different this is. Seoul is nothing compared to New York. The anxiety is nearly ten times worse, the streets are far more attractive when it comes to inspiration and the figure of Jung Yoonoh is no longer as easy to ignore.

Even after the summer shoot’s over, Jaehyun often comes by to hang out at the studio, dressed in what you would call the simplest fucking thing you’d ever seen and still managing to look just as gorgeous. He blends in well with university students, often wearing the ugliest baseball cap you’ve ever seen, and the look of his face feels much, much worse than ever before. It’s at ease, smug even, but never failing to smile at you when you’re trying to focus. You don’t care how good of friends Taeyong and Jaehyun are—you want to tell him to leave.

But you just can’t bring yourself to. It’s not that you don’t trust yourself, you certainly do, but whatever New York has done to you, includes making you feel a different way about him. Sometimes you find yourself pressing your legs together harshly, stiffening at any proximity with him and a pool of warmth at the base of your stomach you’d rather not feel.

It’s embarrassing to even think about it—the fact that he makes you feel that way, so hot and bothered like it’s your first time. You blame your lack of going out these few months because after all, anyone could fall in love with runway faces. It doesn’t have to mean it’s him you want. You carry on doing what you’ve been doing for the most part of your career, your best to avoid him. There are more pressing matters, and your head might just implode if you keep on worrying about things (a man, of all) you need not.

Time passes even faster when all your thoughts revolve around the same thing.

One month. D-30. Whatever the hell you call time before the end of the world.

Your palms sweat a whole lot easier here. It’s a little weird, considering you don’t find much difference in humidity between Seoul and New York. Your heart often catches up in your throat too. Not a great feeling, your heart choking the breath out of you, but you’re used to it. You cope and you learn, that’s what it means to be human.

You pull your hand down before it reaches your teeth. The day ended in a meeting with Taeyong’s production team—everything’s running smoothly so you need not worry, he said.

Why are those the words that make you worry the most?

You check the time on your phone. 23:05 and a whole month to go. You better get some sleep for all the meetings you have scheduled tomorrow. You close your eyes and for a while, everything falls quiet.

You dream of New York Fashion Week. People come here to feel included. Everyone wants to be a part of something they don’t understand.

The models walk down the runway in increasingly uncomfortable outfits. You didn’t design any of them. Where are the ones you worked on? You can’t move from your seat, or turn your head from the runway, anything at all. Something’s wrong, everything’s wrong. You don’t belong here. Thunder strikes outside the venue and you wake up with a gasp caught in your throat, and the clock on the bedside table flashing 2:14.

You’ve had enough. You swear you’ve had enough.

You get up out of bed, pacing the giant bedroom, the empty spaces making you feel more and more miserable. The city twinkles with innumerous stars beyond your window, curtains half drawn so they can comfort you whenever you need—but these lights don’t shine for you, or anyone else. They shine for themselves. That’s what it means to be in New York again.

What time is it in Seoul? Could you call your mother? Joohyun? Everyone must be busy right now—you don’t know what to do. It’s been a long time since you’ve felt so helpless. There’s a reason you’ve been avoiding New York for this long and now it’s come crashing down on you.

This was a mistake. All of it was a mistake.

You look down at your phone, the light hurting your eyes despite being set to the lowest brightness. You think a little, and then some more. There’s no one else you can call. Even if he’s busy charming all the other employees whenever you see him, even if half the world is in love with him, there’s no one else you can call. This time you don’t stop yourself.

You tap the call button beside the Jung Yoonoh saved neatly. Tapping your foot against the floor nervously, your mind goes blank for a few seconds or so. He answers when you’re just about to hang up, breath hitching in your throat at the sound of his voice.

“Hello? Hello? If this is a reporter—”

“It’s me, Jaehyun.”

The line goes quiet for a moment and your voice overlaps his before he can begin.

“I- I didn’t mean to call so late. Sorry…uh.”

You scrunch up your face at your own voice. This is not getting you anywhere.

“Is everything okay?” he asks, voice lower.

You fall silent, unable to answer without breaking down into tears. You did not call Jung Yoonoh for that.

“Yeah,” you choke out. “Fine. Completely fine. I just…”

You trail off, trying to get yourself to breathe.

“I’ll send you an address. Be there in an hour.”

You blink back tears, confusion adding to the burning pile of worries inside your head.

“What?”

“Address. I’ll text you. Be there. One hour.”

“I’m not stupid, Jaehyun,” you snap, strength refilling your voice. “Why?”

“I’m not answering questions, just be there.”

With that, the line goes flat and an embarrassing amount of ‘hello’s get you to realize that he hung up. A notification pops up a minute later and you’re too groggy to decipher it, logging it to Maps instead so you can follow. It’s fifteen minutes away, you realize with a sigh of relief, so you can at least present yourself within the given constraint.

You can’t grasp what you feel in the moment, the night air and warm streets beckoning you to leave the clamped apartment soaked in fear. You think this is unlike Jaehyun, what he’s doing, but you’re too shaken to care. You need some respite, even if it comes from somewhere you can’t picture.

“You…wanted to meet me at a Korean barbecue restaurant?”

Jaehyun’s ears turn red, as they often do when he doesn’t know how to respond to you.

“I-It’s not that I…Never mind,” he tries to explain, fidgeting with the cloth over his shoulder. “We can go somewhere else if you want.”

We? You think, eyes scanning his face in confusion. If you want? Where’s the uncaring Jaehyun you’ve known, foreign eyes and impassive lips? He hardly looks the part he’s meant to play—a billboard face with a confident jawline and nothing more behind it. Outside of work—you don’t even know what else to call this—Jaehyun looks hardly intimidating, or abrasive. He seems different, gentle almost, although the dark circles under his eyes might have something to do with it. Maybe he’s too tired to say anything more and that’s it.

But he still came all the way here.

“Aren’t you a little…overdressed?”

There comes the remark you were hoping to not hear. You just wanted to look nice; you’d hardly call this overboard. The loose, mustard-colored chiffon shirt cinches at the waist, paired with your nicest (only not faded) pair of light blue jeans and shoes that haven’t seen the light of day since you arrived here. You barely ever design clothes for yourself anymore but you thought you looked good in this.

“No,” you defend quickly, feeling your face grow warm. “You’re underdressed.”

You say that, but he clearly looks good in anything he wears. Could you expect any less of a supermodel? He doesn’t seem to have dressed in as much a hurry as you had. Clad in a plain black T-shirt that’s half tucked into skinny jeans, he’s added his hideous baseball cap and a pair of navy blue shades which looks just as ridiculous as it sounds. You really think he shouldn’t be leaving his house without the help of a stylist.

“I…I just mean you don’t wear anything other than the same sweater and pants combination to work, so… please excuse my surprise.”

Jaehyun's eyes flicker over your figure before masking it with an awkward cough. You reach out and pull the shades over his head, the look bothering you more than anything else. He doesn’t respond to it, at least not in a way that’s obvious, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world to do—you fixing his hair and unquestionably awful sense of style.

“There’s a soju place a few blocks ahead. Or if you’re not into that, there’s a noodle shop just at the edge of K-town,” Jaehyun rambles on, not meeting your eye. “If you’re looking for something inexpensive—"

“You came all the way here to give me directions?” You raise an eyebrow. You might even be enjoying this, although your inner voice bites back at you, denying it.

Jaehyun shakes his head, the red in his ears pulsing back up. “No. I…I needed some fresh air.”

“You…have someplace to be then?”

Jaehyun might not realize it, but the answers he gives always have room for teasing. Aloof. Vague. Yet somehow sweet.

“And you’ll go alone? At this hour? No, I’ll accompany you,” he says out loud, trying to play off the sudden vocal inflection. You sigh. Boys will be boys, as they say. Even if they’re twenty-six.

You let him keep you company. Though the first few minutes are painfully quiet, neither of you knowing quite what to say without starting a disagreement, you continue your walk through a city that never sleeps. It’s awkward even, being side by side without you seething at his charming, (undoubtedly) fake smile. He feels real, for once, and you don’t know how to react. There seem to be some gold-tinted cracks appearing in your reality, slowly but surely, and you’re not very good at patching anything other than fabric.

“You know, it’s actually a little relieving to see Korean letters here,” you say, sighing. You never thought you’d be so corny, but it really does feel good being here.

Or is it him?

“Thanks,” you add quietly, hoping he doesn’t hear. No, maybe you do. You can’t tell at this point.

“I…I know what it’s like,” he says, so softly that it almost gets carried away by the wind. He clears his throat, an ‘ah’ escaping his lips as he stops abruptly.

“We…We missed the turn,” he declares, a little sheepish as he scratches the back of his head.

You look at him in disbelief. “Jaehyun, how long have you lived here?”

“Oh, I was born here actually,” he says, tilting his face to look at you, blunt sarcasm evident on it. “How many times have you lost your way to the convenience store in Seoul?”

“Literally zero times.”

Jaehyun puffs a cheek before going back to normal and turning a hundred and eighty degrees down the street.

“Hey, wait up!” you huff at his increased pace, half jogging to keep up.

You reach the acclaimed noodle shop, your breath barely within your lungs and swearing at Jaehyun who looks like he wasn’t bothered one bit. He reaches his hand out to help you and you swat it away, chest still heaving with your hands on your knees.

“Dickhead,” you hiss.

“I don’t think I deserved that,” he responds with a widening smile.

“Asshole,” you say, standing up straight to glare at him.

“What would Seoul say hearing their beloved designer swear like this?” Jaehyun looks almost amused, as if you hadn’t shared an awkward time together, like two teenagers who were forced to walk home together from the bus stop.

“They can go to hell,” you retort. “As can you.”

Jaehyun laughs, a strange sound to hear and you blink a few times, unsure of what to do. You wonder if it’s the night playing tricks or if Jaehyun really is an actual person, not the basket of preprocessed insults you were used to. The cracks are widening—you’re not sure if they’re meant to be patched.

Perhaps you were a little eager to enter someplace warm, but you feel immense relief in this little shop, despite the smell of chili paste and noodle soup wafting through the air. It’s a little empty; in fact, you two seem to be the only people there apart from some students at the other corner, but you sit there in your own bubble, talking with Jaehyun of all people about which singer is better. He laughs occasionally, still managing to catch you off-guard with how honest it sounds and you wonder for a moment, how nice this feels. For the first time in a month, your heartbeat seems to have settled at a normal rate.

“What?” you enounce, a little offended. “What’s so wrong about my love life?”

“You just- You just don’t seem that type,” he explains, his ears as red as the bowl.

“I don’t have time for commitments, Jaehyun,” you sigh. “It’s what happens when you’re good at your job.”

Jaehyun nods, something akin to agreement in his response.

“So, your, uh, what is it? Training camp? What’s that about?” you ask, in between blowing your food.

“You could really Google things once in a while, you know?” he replies, bringing his chopsticks close to his mouth.

You roll your eyes. “I’m sorry I’m not one of your creepy stalkers, Mr. Jung.”

“Nothing to do with that,” he says, shaking his head. “It’s for kids interested in fashion, modeling, photography—stuff.”

“Oh? How so?”

“I just sponsor them. You know how difficult it is to get noticed in…this industry,” he explains, like it’s not a big deal. Nothing ever seems to be a big deal to him.

You nod, unable to help the smile. Maybe it isn’t a big deal, but you’re sure now that you were mistaken. Just a little bit.

“I was lucky,” you mumble. “I can’t believe they saw those ugly embroidered patches and decided to sponsor me, oh my god. That sweater was hideous.”

Jaehyun laughs loudly. “They saw me cleaning outside my school and decided to pick me up and ship me straight to Paris.”

“Nothing’s worse than the first day.” You take another mouthful, the taste savoury and filling.

“You know, I’m pretty sure they photoshopped my ears out in the first magazine shoot I had.”

You laugh, leaning in a little closer. “Your first year was rough, huh?”

He hums, his eyes flickering from your nose to your lips. It makes you a little self-conscious, blood rushing to your cheeks at an unexpected pace. Who knew Jaehyun could have such an effect on you?

Your eyes flutter over his face once again.

He’s handsome. But it’s the sort of handsomeness that tells you, you don’t know much beyond it. You look back at your bowl, sobering up and completing the rest of the noodles.

It’s still midnight blue in the faraway sky as you walk down the streets. Most of the people you see out and about are those drunk off their faces from club hopping or a particularly enthusiastic group of tourists. The watermelon soju, while better with budae-jjigae and arguably the best soju flavor, somehow had little effect on you with the bitter aftertaste still settling in. The crowds in other places would make for great people-watching but you walk in a lonely street that calls for proximity. Beside you, Jaehyun sneezes, the sound of it making you jump on the quiet sidewalk.

“Jesus Christ, Jaehyun,” you huff, wincing at the sound, “you sounded like a fucking tractor.”

Jaehyun laughs, looking down at the pavement. When he looks back at you, the circles underneath his eyes seem to have darkened and you wonder if yours are the same. Yours can’t possibly be as important as his, though, and you wonder if it’s appropriate to laugh at how dorky he looks.

You find yourself not wanting to walk back into the safety of your suite. Jaehyun has a look of calm across his features, drawing over the landscape around you. New York lights don’t faze him, they only reflect in his eyes.

The way his soft breaths fan out against his lips remind you that he is human, after all—he has a soul and body, thoughts and its beautiful intricacies. When he turns back to you, you feel those criminal feelings all over again, except this time it’s even louder. It feels so wrong, and yet you can’t help but think of the liberation that could come with his lips on yours.

You could swear out loud, all the colorful words ready at the tip of your tongue.

“Your collar’s…”

Jaehyun’s voice trails off, his hand moving to fix your flipped collar, and when the heat of his skin brushes your neck, you try to not think of where else his hands could be, his lips could be.

In fact, there’s a moment within where it’s perfectly reasonable for him to kiss you, the taste almost on your tongue. But Jaehyun moves away, an indecipherable look across his face.

“I should get going,” he says, “I have a- I have a shoot early tomorrow—today.”

You nod, cheeks coloring at your own unsaid thoughts. Just what have you done to yourself? Why is your skin searing, why does your stomach feel upside down and why were you so ready to give in to him? To Jaehyun? You’ve never felt want like this before, this need to press skin against skin in a manner so illicit.

You part with a short goodbye, the sudden loneliness in your path making you want to backtrack, ask if you can go somewhere else again—maybe there’s a club nearby so you can see him through a round of shots as you usually do. Maybe the bitter feelings will return then.

When you think of the words you exchanged over the course of so unusual a night—your former unforgiving words contradict you. You hate the realization but being so obscure in front of a camera doesn’t have to mean he’s pretentious. Maybe you were wrong. Maybe someday you’ll even admit it.

You feel a flash of heat in your face. You are not running to Jung Yoonoh—what an embarrassing thought. If the very core of your being isn’t repulsed by it, there’s something wrong with you.

There’s something definitely wrong with you, love.

You breathe sharply, trying to organize your thoughts. As if the paparazzi wouldn’t have a treat out of this meeting you had with him if they got to know. You’d better limit it to the only one.

You bite your nails out of force of habit. It’s not going to help. You know. But there’s hardly anything else to cool your nerves.

Front row tickets to New York Fashion Week—the most mortifying dream out of all the ones you’ve ever had. The way Taeyong fidgets, you want to believe he’s in the same boat as you—it makes you thankful even.

Even outside of New York, Lee Taeyong is known for booking out exclusively intimate spaces. There are some props for the pre-show photography, including inked sketches on giant vertical banners stuck to the walls and tables with a messy collection of coffee cans, pencils and a sewing machine. Diverse types of fabric roll off the table in long strips, gently lining the floor till they end midway to another table. It’s a mess—a mess you made look good.

You’d left that and the backstage behind now. All eyes are on the sparsely lit runway, your aspirations coating the air in a thick veil. Are you ready? You won’t know till the first model steps out and till you can elicit a response from the audience.

Jaehyun’s at another venue—career before friendship, or, heaven forbid, attraction. You’d seen the fitting, cape skirt doing daringly well with his long legs clad in black pants, and a classy vest over a ruffled white shirt. You hate seeing other designs before a show, but god, were you glad you’d visited Givenchy to meet Johnny.

But you’re relieved even, that Jaehyun isn’t here. You don’t have the strength to face him anyway, all your energy directed into this chasm of whatever you’d call six months of effort. You want to call yourself accomplished. You want to be proud of yourself.

So this time, you remember all twenty-six minutes of it.

God, they look so beautiful up there, when they’re being looked at, seen for what they are—you’ll never get over it. There’s still hardly much to remember, except this time you’re happy to do it all over again. Effort only exists if it’s acknowledged.

It settles in quite a while later, the weight of all you’d done. You could almost cry, but that’s better left to pillows and the unrelenting skies above a midnight-coated rooftop. This is your moment. For once, you’re anything but afraid.

Afterparties are still not your thing.

However, you had your nicest outfit picked out and Lee Taeyong’s fancy, themed afterparties are something notorious among your colleagues. You’ve heard designers tend to go all out, wearing the best things they’ve designed even if it makes them a little embarrassed to be wearing their own work.

You feel a sigh leave your lips as you finally find a place to sit, your earlier conversations leaving you drained of social energy. You don’t feel alien—it’s strange—and their compliments feel almost warm. The music playing over the speakers is something, you’re sure, from a 60’s American movie, and while it has its own strange allure, the champagne gives you a larger dose of relief.

In fact, if you’re not mistaken, it’s quite like the ballroom in Paris, although significantly smaller. Burgundy wallpaper and lit up crystals hanging in hexagonal shapes across the ceiling—it’d look lovely on a dress too.

Taeyong’s speech, of course, gives you a spike of anxiety with the sudden announcement of his label’s future, a brand now. He smiles on the small podium, everyone admiring his radiance when suddenly he gestures at you, the glass in your hand feeling hotter and hotter.

“…I couldn’t do this without the only designer I felt was up to this—the first designer to work under my brand, as of now…”

You try not to blush under all the pairs of eyes that turn to you.

“(name), thank you.”

Success feels good. Gratitude feels even better.

Everything feels natural, as if a dream gone right. You’re no longer afraid of the world you stepped into, or the accumulation of feelings that molded you into the person you are now. The confidence you so chased after as if it were morphine, you’re going to be keeping an eye on it before it can run away again.

There’s still one little problem to your night of triumph, though.

Jaehyun hasn’t taken his eyes off you ever since you entered, a conversation yet pending. You already know he looks good in the plainest of T-shirts, so it might be a no-brainer that he looks absolutely stunning in a suit. The crystals lining the lapels of his coat glimmer amidst the crowd he’s gathered. It’s hard to come in contact, however. He’s magnetic, almost formidable in the way he attracts attention, and you know it’s something that comes with being a man of few words.

“You’re not enjoying the party?” you ask, taking in Jaehyun’s figure on the veranda overlooking the garden. He sits on one of the mahogany chairs, swirling the glass of champagne with a look of indifference coating his eyes and lips.

“I am,” he says, turning to face you. “Needed a short break.”

“I suppose being the most attractive man in the room needs a break,” you say, taking a seat beside him.

A wry laugh leaves his lips, as he lays his eyes on you. “You don’t seem bothered by it though?”

“I believe that pretty is as pretty does,” you say, your lips twitching.

Jaehyun smiles, furrowing his eyebrows yet still. “You think multimillionaire companies are built on things like inner beauty?”

He’s right. What’s inside is beautiful—it’s too idealistic a phrase. You sigh, adjusting your sleeve. It’s a difficult life, walking the runway no one dares to step on.

I think you’d make that cut too, you want to tell him.

“You know the best thing I got told today?” you ask, diverting the stream of conversation. You think he’s a friend. Even if it could be the champagne talking. Even if you want something more than the innocence of friendship.

Jaehyun raises an eyebrow. “Did Cristóbal Balenciaga’s ghost show up to compliment you?”

“No,” you emphasize, laughing at his pronunciation. “It was this girl. A student. Said she wrote an essay about me.”

Jaehyun hums, dimples marking his cheeks. “I didn’t know a student could get you so giddy.”

You laugh, looking down at your hands before resting your gaze on him again. He leans forward in his seat, strands of hair falling over his face from the rest and a contemplating look over his features. He looks much, much different from when you first saw him, and even handsomer, if that were possible. He’s grown up from the awkward boy you saw in the press release pictures of the Saint Laurent Fall Collection—he looks sharp and valiant on front covers, his shoulders broad and his eyes darling. Jaehyun is still unironically the most breathtaking man you’ve ever met. He might even be one of the sweetest, inside out.

You look to his lips, full as ever. Perhaps you have something to confess. Secrets aren’t meant to be kept so long.

“Jaehyun,” you call, bringing his attention before faltering. It’s not like you’re the only one fawning over his smile. You get up instead, excusing yourself. “I’ll see you inside I suppose.”

“You know I like you, right?”

You turn around. “What?”

Jaehyun gets up, brushing his suit and fixing the lapels. The gentle night haze and the contrasting calls of the brightly lit party inside brush over an effect you’ve never felt before. “I…I like you. It’s pretty straightforward, I think.”

You deny it, or rather, some repressed little emotion inside you denies it vehemently. “Jaehyun, really. I admit I was a complete asshole to you and- and...it was…kind of you to accompany me that night but—”

“Stop. Don’t- Don’t call that kind. You’re not seeing the full picture.”

You stand there, unsure of what to do as you feel your chest grow warmer. Jaehyun turns his head upwards, letting out an audible breath. You can see conflict on his face, the struggle of someone still mulling over the perfect words.

“I don’t hate you. I never really hated you even if I wanted to.”

You suppose it wouldn’t be the right time to say that you might have indulged in that.

“I did,” you confess. “I hated you for a very, very long time, Jaehyun.”

“I know,” he whispers, looking straight at you. “I didn’t mean to leave you hanging—”

“Jaehyun, I don’t care about that,” you say, your voice rising, “You told me you felt suffocated in bow ties and laughed when I asked if you wanted to run away with me. I just ended up thinking you were a goddamn liar.”

“Fine,” he says quietly in his baritone timbre, sounds of the chatter from inside numbing away. “Then let me be honest.”

“When I met you, I thought there was someone like me doing just the same—so…suddenly in the midst of everything. Even if you were a complete asshole to me. You were still real.”

He phrases it delicately, lilting, as if that hasn’t been your whole purpose here. He’s only a breath away from you, but you don’t want to push him away this time. There’s a moment’s pause.

“Between work and myself, which is more important? For once, I thought I could answer that question.”

Your breaths are soft and shallow as they fall, trying to understand his words.

“And then you just fucking stopped. You stopped flying out and I’d barely see you outside of Seoul like you- like you gave up or something. I didn’t understand—what happened to you?”

Jaehyun looks at you with a hardened expression, ears turning red as if he hadn’t expected this outburst of truth. He gulps, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. It’s not like him to open his mouth and let out words that are raw and honest; it makes you feel the weight even more. You were still kids that night. You’re not anymore.

“Jaehyun,” you whisper before reaching your hand out and placing it against his cheek.

It’s so hard to not take in the details. The prominence of the muscle by his mouth when he speaks, the fine lines by his nose which appear sporadically or the look of complete reverence in his eyes when he’s staring at you like this—everything those runway shots can’t possibly capture. Your eyes trail to his lips, your own drawn to it with a desire you don’t know how to comprehend—and don’t quite wish to, either.

You want to believe he made the first move but you give in so easy, it’s alarming. Your lips move against his in a rhythm new and frantic, his hands gripping you with full strength at the waist and you part your lips to allow a deeper kiss. Your hands are free to roam his perfectly styled hair, tousling it in a fashion that makes him groan, only to push you harder against the wall.

“I should’ve- I should’ve let you kiss me that night,” he mumbles against your lips. “Maybe I…I wouldn’t have made you hate me.”

“Maybe you should shut up and kiss me right now,” you respond, your mouth pressing against his, effectively doing the job.

It’s not difficult to see stars when his hips press against yours, his hand resting on one thigh to pull it up slightly. You feel the impact of it head-on, gasping out loud when his fingers press harder against the back of your thigh.

“Tell me- Tell me you want this,” he breathes out when he breaks the kiss.

You respond with reconnecting your lips, your tongue sliding against his in fervent affirmations. You’ve already forfeited your modesty, there’s no reason to stop.

You leave early, getting into the car you’d booked for the night. It would be far more embarrassing were it not for the separation between the front and backseats, when Jaehyun’s hands are up your clothes and his lips rough against your neck. The lip colour has smudged by the side of Jaehyun’s lips, a short giggle escaping you when you notice. It’s not enough to halt the kissing, or feeling each other up —something that feels long overdue. You try to keep your sounds to a minimum but Jaehyun seems to not care about things as worthless as shame, at least for the moment.

“Well, you’re about as graceful as a sea lion when you’re off the runway,” you hiss when Jaehyun’s teeth prick your skin.

“I haven’t done this in a while,” he responds in a low tone, the rest of his retort pushed away by his lips against your mouth.

You don’t have time to take in the details of Jaehyun’s apartment because he’s already carrying you to the bed, your legs around his waist and continuing to kiss you as if making up for something. All those years, you could have been doing this. Maybe you do have some regrets.

The material of his dress shirt feels expensive but clothes are not what you need right now. His phone rings once but he drags a finger over it to reject the call, his mouth still pressing against your collarbone. The only sounds you hear are rugged breathing and you fumbling with the buttons of his shirt as you pull it over his shoulders. The city lights below you reach through the drawn curtains, all the unrelenting complications left behind in those faraway streets.

Jaehyun makes a sound of annoyance at the phone ringing yet again. He breaks apart from you, receiving the call while his fingers massage his temple.

“Hyung, I’m fine. I’ll talk to you later—”

“I was just wondering where you disappeared and you don’t even grace me with a hello?” Johnny’s voice rings clear in the all too silent bedroom.

“Hyung—”

“Wait a minute.” There’s a pause within which Jaehyun seems to tense up. “Are you fucking? Like did you leave the party to get la—”

“Hyung. I’m hanging up.”

The coral pink spread over his ears is almost as pretty as the look of pure annoyance over his face.

“That—”

“Didn’t happen,” you complete, giggling. If someone were to tell you’d be seeing Jaehyun like this a few months ago, you wouldn’t know whether to be embarrassed or exhilarated.

You place your hand at the nape of his neck, pulling him into another kiss.

Sex is barely ever beautiful—even if it’s Jung Yoonoh over you, planting kisses from your mouth to jaw, neck to chest and whispering sweet, delicious words against each part. He certainly knows how to use his assets better than you’d expect from a boy so pristine.

It doesn’t matter if it’s not beautiful, when it’s just like a slow dance—in shared solace and love out of time. You bite your lips to stop smiling too often for it to feel as serious and indifferent as all the other times. Sometimes you feel Jaehyun grinning into the crook of your neck, the giddiness of love taking over the movement of your hips against his. The perfect anatomy of his, paired with his candied words makes you think that maybe you do fit together.

You let someone else take charge for once, his praising whispers of ‘that’s my baby’ or ‘you just look so good’ far too teasing but he follows through, your body barely able to respond apart from shaking and shuddering till you reach your high.

The sound of skin against skin dies down well into the night and you get cleaned, still blissed out from making the summit of all your senses. It’s warm inside, despite turning the air conditioner on.

“Jaehyun,” you call, lowering yourself to press a quick kiss to his lips.

“Hm?” He gives you a drowsy smile, arm under his head and hair sticking to his forehead funny.

“Did you really not hate me? Not even once?” You rest your cheek against your palm as you lie beside him.

Even under the dim lights, it’s not hard to spot the blush on him when he positively glows. Jaehyun reminds you of warm auburn and the touch of cool satin—it’s easy to make things, find inspiration in love.

“Oh my god, you were lying!” you accuse, sitting up straight. “There’s no way you didn’t hate me. I called your modeling as good as a coconut under spotlight!”

“As you so love to remind me,” he mumbles.

There’s a brief moment before the two of you crack up, his deep laughter perfectly mismatched with yours. There’s hardly many sounds on the eighteenth floor, but maybe you’ve always been yearning for this privacy—this proximity in shared laughter and warm touches.

“No, I didn’t,” Jaehyun answers your question after it’s quiet once again. “I thought...I think you’re…”

Jaehyun trails off, his eyes flickering over your face before fixing on your lips as his own tug into a smile. He gulps. “I think we’d be in trouble if the paparazzi saw us throwing choice words at each other, don’t you think? You were barely out of school then.”

“Me?” You laugh. “You were thinking about me?”

“And a little bit about me.”

You fall asleep against Jaehyun’s chest with the certainty of kinder tomorrows, a thing he teaches you through whispers against the pillow and fingers playing with your hair. There’s something private in the way he holds your face, something delicate and homely running from his long fingers to his flushed knuckles and the rest of his hand as it presses against your cheek. It’s warm here, and safe, and maybe home is where the heart is, after all.

“Really? You’re not even a little bit sad I’m leaving?” you ask, placing your hand over your heart. “Who’s going to help you when you’re getting bullied in the workplace now?”

Doyoung huffs in annoyance, placing the box down beside the moving truck. “You’re the only one who bullies me in the workplace.”

You adjust the ugly baseball cap on your head, the one Jaehyun had pulled over your head in an attempt to stop you from complaining about his messy apartment. You hadn’t realized you’d worn it all the way to Seoul till the articles about your questionable choice of accessories had surfaced.

“Your boyfriend’s calling,” Doyoung says, making a face as he picks your phone up from the box near him. “I can’t even believe this. All those years of flirting and—”

You snatch it from him, glaring at him for the choice of words. He raises his hands defensively, rolling his eyes at your sudden movement.

“Are you sure you don’t want me flying to Seoul?”

“Unless you’re planning to work in a truck rental.”

You hear Jaehyun laugh on the other side of the line. Is it normal to have blood rush straight from your chest to your ears at the sound of laughter? You hope that doesn’t change.

You’d visited him a day before your flight. It hasn’t been all that long but Jaehyun certainly makes it out to be, just so he can use his cheesy one-liners. You try not to smile thinking about how he had flung his hair band out, immediately tousling his hair back into a pretty mess and struggling to keep a straight face when you’d visited out of the blue. Jaehyun wakes up at one in the afternoon when his schedule is empty and it had appalled you enough to help him out with basic chores before you left. (It didn’t end well. He kept putting his chin on your shoulder and sneaking his arms around you while you did the dishes.)

“(name)? (name), are you daydreaming again?”

You sigh. “You can’t wait three more days, Jae? It’s, what, one in the morning there!”

“Do you want me saying something cheesy?”

“Absolutely not.”

“I don’t think I can sleep without waking up to your face.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose, unable to grace him with a response. The dreamy languor in his voice is more than recognizable and if you’re not mistaken, he’s going to be saying something highly inappropriate.

“Do you know what dream I had last night?” he asks, the smile almost evident with how suggestive it sounds.

“Jaehyun, no,” you warn before lowering your voice. “I swear if it’s another dirty dream—”

“Come home and I’ll tell you all about it. With demonstrations.”

This time you can’t help the laughter, trying to mask it with a cough only to fail. You push the back of your hand against your cheek in order to soothe the involuntary blush. Your perfume smells just like him, and you realize suddenly why he’d gifted it to you.

“That definitely makes me want to leave faster,” you quip.

“I certainly hope so.”

It’s different now, especially if you remember your feelings just last February. Change feels easy for the first time in your life. You check off your list of items, counting the boxes as they’re lifted onto the truck. It took a good amount of thinking, and a bunch of fights before you could decide. New York isn’t so bad. Not when you have reason to be there. You’d like to call it love.

A list of things you do appreciate: Jung Yoonoh. Jaehyun. Whatever.

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arroganceisherfavoritecolor · 3 years ago

Text

Dirty Little Secret

A/N: hello everyoneeee, this is my first oneshot fanfic on tumblr, which is a Rodrick Heffley x gn!reader, i hope u all enjoy!

warnings: cliche, probably words spelled wrong, bad grammer, swearing and thats about it!

----------------------------<3---------------------------------------------

RRRRRRR! Your phone went off, waking you up from your nap. you oponed it to see what it was, seeing a notification from your best friend, Rodrick. The message read;

"WAZZUP Y/N IM HAVING A PARTY AT MY HOUSE 2NIGHTTT

UR GONNA BE THERE RIGHT?? "

You smiled at the text. last time Rodrick tried pulling off a party without his parents knowing, he got into a LOT of trouble, so you kind of felt like warning him about the possible outcome, but decided to let him figure that out on his own. soon enough, you replied with:

"totally my little drummer boy ;))"

You and rodrick had been friends since your freshman year of highschool. you had first met when you saved him from getting his ass kicked, and ever since that day, you had started to grow feelings for him. he just made your heart fllutter, with his stupid little smirks, and the way his hazel eyes would randomly stare you down while in class.

it was all too much, in a good way.

RING RINGGG!

Your thoughts were shattered as you looked down to see an incoming call from Rodrick, sliding right you answered the call. "Hey doll face" said Rodrick through the phone. "Hola yeah boy." you and Rodrick had a little inside thing inspired by the song Yeah Boy And Doll Face by Pierce The Veil. Even though he used that stupid nickname in a sarcastic way, it still made you feel dizzy.

"What are ya up to?" says Rodrick. "Nothing much, what about you?" you reply, "Oh you know, just practicing for the party" Rodrick responds in a cocky tone. "Really? what song are you gonna be playing?" you ask, "Dirty Little Secret of course" said Rodrick. "Sweeeet, want me to come over early to help you set up?" you ask. "Naaaah its fine, thanks tho sugar" again with the nicknames. "Too bad, i'm gonna ask if i can go over" you respond. "Fine fine, i'll see you then Y/n" "adios.''

You then hung up.

After asking your parent if you could go to Rodricks, you threw on some clothes that were suitable for this occasion and headed out. You and Rodrick didn't live that far away from eachother, so you ended up just walking. You knocked on his front door, and soon heard banging footsteps coming from the garage area. "HEy Y/n, come on in" Rodrick said while aking your hand and leading you to his garage. "Hey Y/n" all of Rodricks band members said, they knew you had a thing for Rodrick, it was obvious after all.

"alright Y/n, we need you to be the judge of how we play today" said Rodrick. you nodded.

~Timeskip to after the (horrible) practice~

"So what do ya think Y/n???" rodrick asked, hoping for a positive response. "Um..you guys did good! Everyones gonna love it" you replied, causing Rodrick to nearly jump for joy. "Wait, what time is it?" asked one of Rodricks bandmates. you took your phone out of your pocket to check the time, "6:25" you answer. "OH SHIT EVERYONES GONNA BE HERE IN LIKE 5 MINUTES-" exclaimed Rodrick, only to be cut off by Greg and Rowley walking into the garage. "Whos gonna be here? oh and hi Y/n" Greg says. "None of your beeswax" said Rodrick, which made you lightly punch him in the shoulder. "Rodricks just having a small get together, but dont tell your parents" you said, you were always there to defend Greg from Rodrick being an ass. Greg nodded and went back to his room, Rowley following behind him. After that, everyone rushed to get the lights on and snacks out. soon, you heard a knock at the door, you checked the time; it was already 6:35. You answered the door, seeing multiple people from yours and Rodricks school. by the time it was 6:40, the house was packed with teenagers hoping for an awesome party. you heard the garage door open, making everyone go outside.

There he was, in all his glory, your little emo boy on the cement pavemant of a stage. Except he wasnt in the back with his drums like usual, he was in the front with the microphone. Singing wasnt exactly his forte, judging from what happened with heather hills that one time. He saw you staring and gave you a wink, which you giggled at. excitment filled everyone, as much as Rodricks banned kinda sucked, it was still pretty cool. Soon, the guitarist started, and then the drummer, then the bassist. A wide smiled spread across your face as the started to play the intro to Dirty Little Secret.

"Let me know what I've done wrong, when I've known this all along"

"I go around to tie my two, just to waste my time with you"

rodrick (very badly) sang into the microphone, you saw everyone slightly cringe.

"tell me all that you've thrown away"

"Find out games you dont wanna play"

"You are, the only one that needs to knooOOOW"

"I'LL KEEP YOU MY DIRTY LITTLE SECRET< AND DONT TELL ANYONE OR YOU'LL BE JUST ANOTHER REGRET (just another regret hope that you can keep it) MY DIRTY LITTLE SECRET. WHO HAS TO KNOW?"

Rodrick sang at the top of his lungs, his bandmates singing the adlibs.

"When we live such fragile lives, its the best way, we survive"

"I go around to tie my two, just to waste my time with you"

"Tell me all that you've thrown away, find out games you dont wanna play"

"You areee, the only one that needs to knooOOOWW"

"I"LL KEEP YOU MY DIRTY LITTLE SECRET, DONT TELL ANYONE OR YOU'LL BE JUST ANOTHER REGRET"

"MY DIRTY LITTLE SECRET, WHO HAS TO KNOW?"

"THE WAY SHE FEELS INSIDE"

"THOSE THOUGHTS I CANT DENY" "THESE SLEEPING DOGS WONT LIE" "AND ALL I'VE TRIED ITS TEARING ME APART'

"TRACE THIS LINE BAAAACK"

Rodrick saw you in the crowd, and looked deep into your eyes.

"i'll keep you my dirty little secret..dont tell anyone or you'll be just another regret"

"I'LL KeEP YOU MY DIRTY LITTLE SECRETTTT DONT TELL ANYoNE OR YOU'LL BE JUST ANOTHER REGRET MY DIRTY LITTLE SECRET DIRTY LITTLE SECRET DIRTY LITTLE SECRETTT WHO HAS TO KNOW? WHO HAS TO KNOOOoW!" Rodricks voice cracked up, which made you giggle. The crowd clapped at the silly performance. Soon after, everyone headed back inside to hang out and party.

You went up to Rodrick and told him how amazing he did. "Thanks Y/n" he said, blushing while looking down. Rodrick turned around and whispered something to his band, which made them smile and walk away. He looked back at you and said "Lets go to my room, yeah?" You silently nod, and follow him up the stairs towards his room.

Rodrick closed the door behind you, and sat you down on his bed.

"Uhm, y/n..i've been wanting to tell you this for a really long time now.." you put your hand on his, trying to calm his nerves, little did you know that made it worse. "i..i love you. i love you so much"

"Rodrick.." Your eyes widen, your cheeks heat up. You find those beautiful hazel eyes stare into yours, until they close of course. You copy Rodricks action and close your eyes. The both of you lean in and share a kiss long awaited. His lips are softer than they look, and he tastes like cherry lip balm. You both pull away and smile, blushing at the thought of what just happened.

"I thought your mom had told you to not kiss anyone with the door closed?" you ask. Rodrick smiles and says,

"I'll just keep it my dirty little secret."

--------------------------------<3-----------------------------------------

A/N: TYSM FOR READINGGG im sorry it took so long to come out, but at least its here now! ty again for reading! have a nice day/night<3

#diary of a wimpy kid #doawk #rodrick heffley #rodrick heffley x reader #rodrick x reader

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a-very-tired-raven · 3 years ago

Text

EEEEEEE so I've been in a writing mood as of late and I needed some help for a writing prompt. One of my best Tumblr friends(@let-love-run-red go check her out!!! She writes amazing garcello fics and headcanons and is a big inspiration for me!!)helped me out! This'll be a lil angsty sorry not sorry lol

•Nothing to lose•

(Trigger warnings!:Mentions of abuse,death,homelessness, multiple past abusive relationships,and bad cigarette habbits!)

You burst out laughing for what seemed to be the 10th time day as your buddy Garcello told yet another joke. "Seriously tho cello! That one was terrible! " He shot you a wink "heh your smiling though." You tried to wipe the smirk off your face. Unsuccessfully. "Am not" you playfully swatted his arm. He just shrugs "Whatever helps you sleep at night kid."

You roll your eyes, "Hey I'm not the one wearing a long sleeved coat and Jeans in the middle of summer" You sent a playful glare. "Your absolutely nuts!" He returns your glare. "Hey at least I'm not the one who's only clothes are T-shirts,shorts and Hoodies! All you ever wear are T-shirts and shorts. Your the crazy one. I don't see how you don't ever get cold"

You smile softy as you see the way he talks with his hands moving everywhere while he rants. I mean.. you do too its just nice to see someone else not pick on you for that. Its... nice to have someone who doesn't judge you for who you are whatsoever. It's been hard,taking care of three siblings all by yourself. Most would shy aways and call you crazy weird,disgusting,freak you've heard it all. Garcello...

Garcello was different.

"Y/n?"

You snap your head up effectively cutting off your somewhat depressing thoughts. "Hm?" You look over. "Are you alright? Ya kinda zoned out on me. I mean I know I can be boring at times but I didn't know I was a snooze fest" Besides his joking banter he has a face full of worry, Beautiful golden eyes scanning your face as if searching for the answer to a murder mystery.

"Nahh your not that boring. Promise. And..yeah I'm fine. Just kinda spaced out y'know?" He nods his head in agreement. You both slow to a stop. He chuckles a bit and turns to you. "Yeah yeah I know, it's just... I recognize that look, Y/N. Believe me I do.. im sorry to be a buzz kill but.. you know you can talk to me. About anything right?" You give that soft and kind smile that melts his heart every rare occasion he gets to see it. You never smile enough..

Sure there's the joking but... genuine smiles,ones that don't cover a dark and rough interior. He knows first hand what that feels like. So.. he tries. He's tries all he can to get you to smile that genuine smile as often as can be. For both your sakes.

"I know garcy. And thank you. Glad to know it still stands." You give him a quick hug that immediately makes his cheeks warm. He's really thankful for the shade his cap gives his face right about now. "I'll see you later alright? And tell Annie I said hey!" "Alrighty will do! And get some rest tonight okay? Cya." You nod a okay and walk inside your apartment.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------You stare holes into the ceiling. Past memories flash through your mind. Your mother, and father. You were disgusted to call them that. Helping and raising your siblings. Her...death.. being homeless..heh something both you and garcello share in common. Picking up your smoking habbit.. heh another thing. Meeting him.. These past few months.

Its been hard...but its been good. You have a roof over your head. Your four siblings are okay. You haven't seen your older brother in a while but he gave you a call. You have food, water,and.. Garcello and Annie. A smile works its was on your face.

I'm glad I met him' a soft smile works its way onto your face until you realize you thought just garcello and not both him and his sister. YES you love them both- like a family-its not like that- ugh why does thoughts have to be complicated!! You roll over,you have to get to sleep. Garcello told you to! And he said he wanted to meet up for something again. You slowly drift off.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Garcello was antsy the whole walk to the park;the place you two agreed to meet. His face was a mad red. He had your favorite flowers and your favorite candy! Reeces pieces and snickers. He's never done anything like this before. Confessing he means. Sure he's asked a few chick's out but... Nobody important or someone he cares about, nobody like you. You changed his entire life in just the few months he's knew you.. He hopes you'll say yes. then again.. his hopes are all the way up.. who'd wanna date guy like him?

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

You look up from your phone to see garcello approaching you. He's very...stressed? No... anxious? Yes Anxious for lack of a better work. With his hands behind his back...Hmmm....

"Hey cello, whatcha got there? You got murder on your mind?" You give a teasing smirk. He just immediately freezes. "I-um-uhm. No. I uh got ya somethin' if that's alright?" He very stiffly sits in front of you. He's sweating bullets. Geeze what's got him this worked up.. "Dang cello with how your acting Ida thought you were askin' me out" you give a light chuckle. He freezes completely.

"Heh uh yeah heh...um..here..you go.. I bought these. For you.. Noone else. Heh" He awkwardly places a two boxes of your favorite candy and holds out a large boutique of your favorite flowers. You freeze completely, mouth hanging open in shock."Y/N...I've liked you for a while now.. your so nice and thoughtful...and you understand me. I was maybe hoping you'd go on a date? With me?" His face is cherry red.

What. He can't be serious? Really he can't. Nobody would ever like you that. Yes you love him.. but you can't afford to love him. Caring gets you hurt. And being vulnerable gets you killed mentally as well as physically You've long sense learned this from your past three relationships

"Are you serious?..Garcello... I cant.. I can't accept this.."

Your heart sinks as you watch the hope glittering off his eyes dim

"Of course I am! Y/N I love you..." Your both standing up at this point. Your both shaking.

"And garcello... I know-i know but please-i just cant!"

"At least tell me why? Am I not enough? I thought... maybe you'd understand.." He drops the boutique. He..he knew it..your too good for him...He really does disappoint everyone..

"Garcello I just cant!can't"! You don't notice the tears spilling down your face at this point.

"But why! I love you! I really do! You mean so much to me!" You take a step back.

"Just stop! don't do that to me Garcello! Dont give me hope! Never ever give me something I want, something I want as bad as you!"

"Why" he's pleading with you so hard..please...just tell him..

"BECAUSE THEN I HAVE SOMETHING TO LOSE!" You hadn't ment to scream. Your fists are clenched and eyes shut tight, you feel as if you might collapse at any moment. Garcello's stunned into silence. "And then I'll be open to get hurt... and I just.." You let out a broken sob. "I'm just so tired of being hurt" you don't move as he engulfs you into a hug.

"And as much as I love you too.. I can't risk being vulnerable again... raising 3 siblings and protecting them so at least they can have a good childhood while you haven't even had on yourself..." You don't notice tears of his own dropping on your shirt. "Being backstabbed and left broken with Noone to fix you...I just can't do it again..." He let's out a broken whisper. "I know Y/N.. I know more than you ever will."

Your just left there hugging in silence. You've decided. You can talk it out because as you were too blind by fear. Fear of being hurt again... he's just like you,two broken puzzle pieces that fit together.

Hope yall like it! Promt idea goes to @let-love-run-red ! Go follow and check her out!

I accept any and all constructive criticism!,

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meltwonu · 4 years ago

Text

| 🍒 CH-CH-CHERRY BOMB! 🍒 | [CHAPTER 17]

pairing; dom!seungcheol x camgirl!reader

this chapter’s notes; camshow, intercrural sex, lots ‘o teasing, dirty talk/the absolute tiniest bit of degradation, some cum play/cum eating, seungcheol having a kink for thighs/thigh highs 😳😗 welcome to the weekend my bbys!! I hope yall are having a good day/night!! Also again, another inbox roundup tomorrow(also an updates post)!! 💕 Might be a regular thing for the next 4-ish weeks ‘cause I have been so busy this month 😭 and I can’t believe there’s only 3 more chapters of CB left!! 😭😭 some bangers on the way tho LMAO 🤣 As always, thank you so much for the love and support!!💕💕 Have a great rest of your weekend and enjoy ch 17![cheol voice] seventeen right here 😌💕🍒

chapters; 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10 - 11 - 12 - 13 - 14 - 15 - 16 - 17 - x - x - x

Seungcheol doubles over in laughter, tears blurring his vision as his laughs turn into quiet wheezes.

“God, this is so embarrassing.” Seokmin mutters; cheeks burning crimson when he glances over to Jeongguk who shrugs back. “Maybe I really should quit…”

Jeongguk scoffs jokingly, “Maybe you shouldn’t have lied. No offense, but all the staff here probably have at least seen her before and you just so happened to lie to her actual boyfriend. That’s honestly really lucky if you ask me! You should buy a lotto ticket!” Seokmin whines back, shifting on his heels as he watches Seungcheol start to wipe the tears away.

“Hyung, can you please take this Edible Arrangements I got you so I can go ask Namjoon-hyung to fire me?” This only causes Seungcheol to laugh harder and this time, Jeongguk can’t help the giggle that bubbles past his tightly pursed lips.

“Please!” Seokmin begs, shaking the basket of skewered fruit at the older male. “I heard the diner across down is still hiring, I can still save the rest of my dignity if I leave now!”

Seungcheol shakes his head, eyelashes wet with tears when he takes the gift from Seokmin’s hands to place it on the countertop of the concession stand. “Hate to break it to you but she works there and one of the staff is also one of her regulars so I think your best bet is workin’ here. Embarrassment and all.”

“So, okay… But you’re not mad?”

Jeongguk peels the cellophane off of the basketed fruit, looking to Seungcheol for permission before he takes a skewer. “Go ahead. And no, I’m not mad. If anything I should apologize too, I shouldn’t have let you keep lying when I already knew. But also, to be fair, we weren’t really… official ‘til recently.” Seungcheol shoots the younger male a sheepish smile; cheeks a pretty pink of their own. “And it’s kinda been nice meeting you guys too. It’s great to know you’re not all weirdos.”

Seokmin laughs lightly, breathing a sigh of relief. “Okay, cool, ‘cause this place pays really well and I’d hate to stop working here and you guys are a lot cooler than the coworkers I had before.” He rolls his eyes jokingly, leaning up against the countertop as he picks off a strawberry from the basket.

“Don’t even get me started on this coworker I had at the last place. His name was Mingyu, I think? Suuuuuch a kissass. I had to move to manning the register at all times just so I could avoid him pickin’ his nose in the backroom and then pretending like he was doin’ shit.”

“Hey, Seungcheol-hyung?”

Seokmin’s inquisitive voice has Seungcheol turning; setting the rollerskates in his hand down onto the bench. “Yeah?”

“Do you think it’s weird that we’re, like, watching your girlfriend?” He tilts his head in thought, eyes blinking up to the ceiling. “I don’t want to overstep or something if it’s weird, y’know? I’ve been thinking about what Jeongguk said earlier...”

Seungcheol grins back at him, eyes twinking. He’d also thought about that before too, when he first found out that Jeongguk had also watched your streams.

“I don’t really mind ‘cause at the end of the day, it’s you watching me fucking my girlfriend.”

“Well, I’m glad he took it… well?” You giggle, tugging the white thigh high up your leg.

Seungcheol pulls off his shirt as he sits on the edge of the bed; tossing the wrinkled material onto the floor as he laughs under his breath.

“He did give me an Edible Arrangements while I laughed so hard I cried. I think he’s learned his lesson.”

xcaliburDK: good news, i didnt quit!!

chwenon: i was gonna say

chwenon: u literally started like last week

universe_WZ has donated $75

angelhan has donated $75

therealchan99 has donated $50

therealchan99: u look rly pretty in ur white set!!!

“Aww, thank you! It’s one of my favorites~ And ‘xcaliburDK’, I’m glad you didn’t quit!” You wink at the camera, giggling softly in Seungcheol’s lap as he peppers kisses along your shoulder.

A shiver runs up your spine at his gentle touches and you easily melt under his soft kisses and roaming fingertips. He ghosts them across your breasts, teasing you through the thin lace as you mewl and squirm against his cock that’s pressed firm against your ass. “A-ah, S--Seungcheol…”

tangerine_kwan: she looks so happy now that she can call ur name out lol

alphagyu97: now i cant pretend its me tho

gentleman_josh95: i mean i guess but are u even built like him

alphagyu97: well

Your body slowly starts to fill with warmth; soft stuttered breaths falling from your lips when he drags his fingers down your torso until they play with the hem of your panties. “M-more… tease me m-more…” He grins against your shoulder; hooking a finger around the waistband of your panties and tugging it away from you before letting it snap against your skin.

“‘Cheol!” Whining, your legs snap shut on impulse as you feel a gush of wetness soaking into your panties.

“Ah, ah, ah, part those legs, princess. Don’t make me have to punish you.”

kitty_junjun: no thats what the shibari stream is for right? Right? 😩

artist8hao: is that really happening bc i want to see it

alphagyu97: u guys should do it and think of it as like a rebrand of the channel ykwim

hoshi_tiger_xx: jdfkjhf like a grand re-opening under new management

therealchan99: what is this, a restaurant?

chwenon: u guys should come up with a new channel name too or sth

Seungcheol manages to read off a few of their comments; committing some to memory knowing that your eyes were still sealed shut as you focused on his soft touches.

He drags his fingers down further, humming when he can already feel how wet you were getting. “Hmm~ Already soaked through your pretty panties, baby~” Your head rolls back against his shoulder, nodding gently as you start to grind against the fingers that he uses to press into your clothed, wet folds.

“F-feels good w-when you, ah, t-tease me…”

Unbeknownst to you, Seungcheol smirks, eyes twinkling at the camera. “You really like it, huh? When I just touch you gently like this. Not enough to get you off but just enough to get you soaking wet until you’re begging for my cock.” He pauses; pressing a soft kiss to your skin. “I wanna try something with you, pretty baby~”

You gulp as you raise your head from his shoulder and he retracts his hands from your body as you shift your body and slightly turn to the side to face him.

Seungcheol’s eyes are blown wide with lust and you can already feel his cock throbbing against your lower back as he smiles dreamily at you.

“I think you’ll like it too.”

A stuttered moan falls from your lips as Seungcheol’s cock slides past your tightly clasped, yet shaky, thighs.

“O-oh, ‘Cheol, this--this is…” The words die on your tongue as your head falls forward and Seungcheol is quick to reprimand you, just as he draws his hips back.

“Baby, I want you to watch yourself on the screen. I want you to see your cute face while I tease your pretty body.” He moans; thrusting between your wet thighs as your hazy eyes peer at the laptop’s screen. Your lips are swollen and your pupils are blown wide when you catch yourself and you can see the head of Seungcheol’s cock only just breaching past your clamped thighs when he thrusts forward.

You let out a guttural moan, eyes rolling to the back of your head when he alternates between thrusting between your thighs and letting his cock slide against your soaked, panty-clad mound.

He hadn’t bothered to undress you at all, but you didn’t mind. The material of your panties only added onto the pleasure with every drag of his cock against you.

Seungcheol teases you even more; dragging his hands down to your thigh highs and letting his fingertips play right underneath the hems before pulling the material away from your thighs and letting them snap against your skin, much like he’d done with your panties.

“Ah, fuck, m-more! P-please…” He repeats the action a few more times, playing with the sheer fabric of your thigh highs before he draws his hips back. Except this time, when you expect him to thrust back between your legs, he wraps a hand around his cock instead, guiding himself until the head of his cock is rubbing up against the sheer fabric.

“Fuck, you’d look so pretty with cum all over your pretty thighs. I should cum all over your panties and your white ‘lil thigh highs and get them all soaked. Don’t you think they’d be cute? Sticking to you like a second skin? Translucent ‘n soaked through with my cum?” He laughs under his breath, watching through the laptop screen at the way you bite your lip and furrow your brows at the thought.

“I--I want t-that… I want S--Seungcheol t-to make, ngh, a m-mess…”

angelhan: i kno we say this all the time but can u upload some pics of that later

angelhan has donated $75

universe_WZ: seconded cuz thatd look so fuckin hot

universe_WZ has donated $50

alphagyu97 has donated $75

alphagyu97: fuck, like a lil angel covered in cum

Seungcheol teases you and himself at the same time; rubbing his cock against your fabric-clad thighs. He spreads precum onto the material, licking his lips when it already becomes translucent and sticks to your skin.

He positions his cock back between your thighs once he’s had his fill and quickly finds himself doubling his pace when he sees how wet you’re getting his cock without even having taken your panties off. “God, look at you. I don’t even need to fuck you to get you this wet. You just need to rub your ‘lil cunt against my cock and it’s enough for you, huh? I should make you sit on my lap, rub your pretty ‘lil pussy on my cock ‘til you’re cumming over and over again.”

“Ngh, yes! Fuck, Seungcheol! I--I can feel your c-cock throbbing between my l-legs… Please, please c-cum, mmh, all over my s-skin…”

“That’s right, baby. So fuckin’ desperate to be covered in it too. And always so fuckin’ pretty when you are.”

You let out a whimper as you try to focus on watching yourself just like Seungcheol had asked you to. Your lips are parted in soft breaths and you can’t seem to unfurrow your brows as Seungcheol chases his pleasure behind you.

angelhan: what if

angelhan: seungcheol in thigh highs lmao

universe_WZ: sub.cheol

sleepy_wonu: sub.cheol

universe_WZ: jinx

sleepy_wonu: fuck u

You lick your lips at the thought; although you knew Seungcheol would have a hard time relinquishing his dominating nature.

But your mind wanders as you continue to think about it; various images of Seungcheol tied up underneath you while you fucked yourself on his cock running through your mind. You let out a shaky moan, to which Seungcheol hums.

“What are you thinkin’ about, princess?”

“Um… ah, n-nothing…” He thrusts between your legs hard, making you jolt forward as you yelp.

“Princess...”

“I--ah! J-just thinking a-about… y-you tied up, ngh, to--to the bed and m-me fuh--fucking myself on your c-cock… ‘n me u-using, mmh, my toys o-on you...” Seungcheol smirks, pulling his cock from between your shaky thighs as he slightly pushes you over until you're on your back.

He spreads your legs as you look up at him and he’s quick to wrap a hand around his cock as he jerks himself off above you. “Oh, I bet you’d love that, wouldn’t you? I bet you’d be so cute trying to be the domme for a night.” Seungcheol teases.

You find yourself clenching around emptiness as you think of the possibilities. You definitely wanted to try it if Seungcheol was willing.

“Fuck, but first, gonna cover your pretty body with my cum.” He groans; thrusting up into his palm as he chases his high.

“C-cum all over me, Seungcheol…”

The donations and comments sound off in the back as you maintain eye contact with Seungcheol who’s brows furrow when he starts to feel himself about to cum. He scoots back a little; growling when his cock throbs in his grasp and he cums all over your, already, soaked panties.

You let out a moan when rivulets of cum hit your lower abdomen and you’re quick to reach down and scoop some up to bring to your mouth, smearing the warm substance against your puckered lips before licking it off. Whimpering, you dip your fingers into your mouth; this time pretending they were Seungcheol’s instead of your own.

He guides his cock until the head is aimed at your thighs; streaks of cum settling into the sheer material of your thigh highs. “God, you’re so damn pretty...” Groaning, he milks his cock for every drop of cum before he’s stopping to catch his breath.

“You came so much but I didn’t cum yet, ‘Cheol~” Pouting, you turn your head to the side to face the camera. “Tell him he has to make me cum now~”

kitty_junjun: well u heard the lady!!

hoshi_tiger_xx: make her cum and let her cream her cute lil panties even more

therealchan99: oh fuck yeah, get her off without fucking her cute cunt

Seungcheol leans over your body until the two of you are almost face to face, eyes twinkling with playfulness when you feel his sticky hand playing with your thigh highs again.

“D’you hear that? Let’s give them what they want, baby.”

The sounds of donations and comments once again get lost as Seungcheol finds himself on his knees between your legs.

“Ready?”

When you slide into bed after your camshow’s ended and Seungcheol has properly taken care of you, he’s quick to tug you into his chest.

The two of you let out soft sighs at the warmth that envelopes you both as you finally start to settle in for the night.

After a few minutes, Seungcheol clears his throat, catching you just before you drift off to sleep.

“This is so random but have you considered, I dunno, rebranding your channel… with me? I was thinking about it and kinda wanted your opinion...”

You blink up curiously at him, urging him to continue. “I mean, yeah, of course! I don’t really know where to start though since it’s always just been me. And to be honest, I wasn’t sure if you wanted to either so I never brought it up.” You snuggle into his warmth, yawning as the sleep threatens to take over.

“But let’s talk about it later, ‘cause ‘m tired now, ‘Cheol. You really didn’t have to make me cum twice…” You mumble, “I can still feel my legs shaking...”

His soft laugh reverberates in your chest and he’s quick to press a kiss against your hair as he tugs you in closer.

“It’s ‘cause I like to spoil you. And okay. I’ll remind you when you’re more conscious.”

“G’night, ‘Cheol...”

“Goodnight, baby.”

#cherrybomb!cheol #seungcheol smut #scoups smut #seventeen smut #svt smut #seungcheol scenarios #seungcheol imagines #scoups imagines #scoups scenarios #scoups fic #seungcheol fic #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #svt imagines #svt scenarios #svt fic #scoups #seungcheol

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shrimp-apocalypse-now · 3 years ago

Text

😗 👨‍👨‍👧‍👦oh hi!👨‍👨‍👧‍👦 we love that jacket! 🧥oh thanks i think i look like a dad trying to reconnect with his son when i wear it. 👨‍👨‍👧‍👦no!👨‍👨‍👧‍👦 are you guys excited for 🎅santa🎅? huh👧? what👦? 👩oh, children dont observe santa claus anymore. now it's 🦎gigi the christmas snake🐍! gigi!!! 🧍‍♂️excuse i🧍‍♂️? 🎵🦎gigi the christmas snake🐍 comes in your garage with a cake🦎 gigi the christmas snake 🐍slithers slow so you wont wake 🦎where's the gift for goodness sake🐍 have you checked behind the rake 🦎it's gonna be alright with gigi!!!!🎶 🧍‍♂️oh🧍‍♂️ok🧍‍♂️ i didnt know about that🧍‍♂️ what kind of gifts does gigi bring? if youre chill gigi leaves a sleeve of tennis balls oh yeah? but if youre rank gigi leaves behind his buddy 👨‍🦳egg lopez👨‍🦳 egg lopez?🧍‍♂️ you get a guy?🧍‍♂️ egg lopez is an incredibly shy adult. you get custody of him for one calendar year 👨‍👨‍👧‍👦👋 👨‍🦳👋jose was rank last year😉why do i feel like that guy washes his hands with strawberry milk 🧍‍♂️yeah i gotta scoot but i hope you guys get a lot of nice stocking stuffers from gigi 🧍‍♂️nope 🚫not stockings🧦 anymore 🥁he left a clue! i can decipher 👏rip of papa's windshield wipers! 👩gigi encourages children to rip the windshield wipers off their parents' automobiles so he can leave behind what he calls a "cheap nothing" an 🥤empty dixie cup a 📖john grisham paperback or even 🥡takeout gigi didnt enjoy🧍‍♂️i dunno how ive been in the dark about all this it seems pretty firm in the zeitgeist🧍‍♂️ 🏳‍🌈and hes also pan!🏳‍🌈sexual🏳‍🌈 🧍‍♂️what?🧍‍♂️ 🧔it means hes attracted to anyone regardless of their gender 🧍‍♂️no i know what it means but why is that part of the 👧youre tall do you 🚬vape like 🦎gigi🐍🧍‍♂️what did you say to me? 🧍‍♂️GOSH i hope gigi doesnt forget about us this year😭if you want gigi to show up you have to get your dad to legally change his name to cherry pie 💳it's worth it 🔔we should never scream or whine 🌎gigi voted for jill stein! 🧍‍♂️ok why is that known whatever i hope he doesnt get too tired coming all the way from the north pole ta ta! 🧍‍♂️ actually gigi lives in an 🏨extended stay america🏨in shaumberg temporarily 👨‍👨‍👧‍👦temporarily👨‍👨‍👧‍👦 👩‍🦱gigi used to live in a huge freakin house in miami 🧍‍♂️ok🧍‍♂️ but lost everything when he got overserved at a 🗿tiki bar and bought the rights to 🎭once on this island, jr🎭 online 🎶whatever you need 🦎😣mama will provide🎵 he got freakin leveled 🚶‍♂️ok dont forget to leave milk and cookies for gigi ok goodbye today 🚶‍♂️ 😫GIGI CANT EAT COOKIES 🚗OR COW WATER 🧔he had a super messed up relationship with food in the 90s so in lieu of cookies and cow water he asks that you leave your parents' health insurance card outside so he can jot down the member id so he can get coverage! 🧔if you leave your mommy or daddy's member id 🚶‍♂️ok🚶‍♂️👧YOULL GET TO SEE GIGI DO THE GIGI DANCE👦 he's essentially vandalizing the garage to do what he calls his gigi dance which is that he blasts ska music while having a fit 🧍‍♂️gigi just sounds like a huge inconvenience these things dont sound festive theyre just mild to major setbacks 👧 when he's done he screams 🏳‍🌈IM PAN🏳‍🌈its crucial that he yells loud enough so that he wakes up the parents so that he can get a ride to his next destination 🧍‍♂️why did he even bother slithering slow so you wouldnt wake if he was just gonna scream his sexual orientation at the top of his lungs🧍‍♂️you have to give him a ride to the next kid's house because his 🚗nissan🚗got impounded in 2013 🧍‍♂️are all yall still talking to me?🧍‍♂️on the car ride home he'll go on and on about cities 🦎i think youd really dig boulder. big city with a small-town vibe🐍and then he'll inevitably broach the awkward subject of 🦎so for those gifts. just venmo me like 🦴$65?🐍

🧍‍♂️sounds like kind of a burnout 👧youre a burnout 👨gigi works his ASS off😡during the year he's a student in online college👨‍🎓he's working toward a degree in opthamolllllll👩he's gonna be an eye dentist👁then gigi gets out with his cake and goes on to the next garage ✌ wait so he doesn't even leave you the cake that he slithers in with in the beginning 🎂sorry its display only 🧍‍♂️wow what a 🎵🦎gigi the christmas snake🐍 comes in your garage with a cake🦎 gigi the christmas snake 🐍slithers slow so you wont wake 🦎where's the gift for goodness sake🐍 have you checked behind the rake 🦎it's gonna be alright with gigi!!!!🎶

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obey-me-fics-n-shit · 5 years ago

Note

what do you think would be the most embarrassing things the brothers could do in front of mc? and how might they/mc react?

Huh, this one’ll be interesting. It took me awhile longer than I wanted it to, but here it is :D

Embarrassing things the Obey me! Brothers would do in front of mc

Lucifer:

The most embarrassing thing for Lucifer would be anything that tarnishes mc’s opinion of him. He’s the avatar of pride, so his image is everything to him. If some lower demon were to talk to you about all the less-than-savory things he did during (or even after) the war and his fall, telling you “how brave you are for living with the big and scary Lucifer (and his brothers)” Lucifer would be beyond upset. He’d probably want to get angry and make that lower demon pay, but he would hate to prove their point.

He’s been very careful in making sure that the worst thing you think of him is that he’s strict and has a bit of a temper. On the other hand, he doesnt mind as much if you know some of the nicer side of him, but if Diavolo gets talking about some things he’s seen Lucifer do that are ‘too cute’ he will also be embarrassed. Best case scenario in both situations is just to laugh it off and say something like “haha, not the Lucifer I know.” And let it be, it would crush the poor guy if you were frightened of him for any reason.

Mammon:

Mammon gets embarrassed so easy you could do it without trying (and you have) but the absolute worst thing that could happen would be if those witches he made pacts with ordered him around while he was trying to spend quality time with you, or even worse if they ran into you and him on a day out and ordered him around in front of you. In any case where that is to happen the best way to ease his embarrassment would be to get right back to what you were doing before. when he gets back to you, a quick insult thrown the witches way and a peck on his cheek is a sure fire way to help him feel better quickly.

If it was a rough day beforehand and this happens, he’ll need some extra re-asssurance, because the witches interruption with be the cherry on top that ticks him off. To help him in this case you’ll probably need to sit down with him for a second somewhere and reassure him that you understand that when it comes to those witches somethings are out of his control. He’ll grumble and say something along the lines of “nothings out of control for the great mammon,” but after a pause he’ll thank you for being so good to him and then you can go about your day.

Asmodeus:

Asmo has just about zero shame, getting this boy embarrassed is next to impossible, so when you do see him embarrassed it’ll probably be quite a shock to you. It probably happens when Asmo takes you to Majolish and an old flame of his who he left high and dry tries to warn you against perusing a relationship with Asmo while he’s in a changing room. Asmo comes out to model the new outfit he’s trying for you, only to see you practically cornered by that pesky ex of his. Asmo also has the pleasure of hearing you tell them to “piss off asshole” before you turn to see Asmo in his new outfit.

Asmo isn’t so embarrassed that someone he was intimate with found you gave you a talk, it was bound to happen anyway, what Asmo is embarrassed about is how he wasn’t there to help you. He’s also flattered that you stood up for yourself (and him) but it’s also part of what embarrassed him. He knew how you felt about him but this was the first time it really hit him. For the first time in a long time, his relationship wasn’t purely physical. Asmo immediately takes off whatever he tried on, leaves Majolish without buying anything and he’ll spend the rest of the day showering you with affections and letting you know how thankful he is for you.

Satan:

What gets Satan embarrassed in front of mc is when he loses his temper. It happens on a nice day around the House of Lamentation, when Satan has found out that Mammon sold one of his prized first-edition books for some quick cash. Satan had planned to spend a nice afternoon reading it with you but when he couldn’t find it he called a house-wide search for the thing and eventually Mammon got so fed up with the guilt he told Satan. Needless to say Satan blew his lid. Not in a normal ‘I’m so angry get out of my sight in 3..2..1...” kinda-way, but in a “I’m gonnna rip to shreds before you can even make it to the doorway” angry

you’d been told his anger was frightening, but you’d never seen it this bad, Satan had a moment and he saw you out of the corner of his eye and immediately regretted getting angry in front of you. It’s common knowledge that he’s gotten better at controlling his temper but he also promised himself not to get angry in front of you. He’ll go back to his room to calm down. Give him about three minutes before going in there, you don’t have to say anything he’s great full enough to have your company. Once he’s had a good while to gather himself he’ll apologize and its best to give him a reminder that everyone gets angry sometimes, that venting a little is healthy and you’re there for him. I promise you he will be so touched he’ll damn near cry

Leviathan:

Pretty similar to Mammon it’s not hard to embarrass this poor guy. It’ll probably happen when he gets a new package from Akuzon and one of the brothers (probably Mammon) gets the package first and opens it in front of Levi and you at the breakfast table. Now having one of his games opened itsn’t all that bad, but its a dating sim and one look at the main character makes it pretty obvious that they’re a dead ringer for you. Mammon will let out a roaring laughter and shove the game over to Asmo and Satan, who take turns loudly debating wether or not Levi bought the game because the main character looked like you, or if Levi’s dating you because you look like main character. Obviously this is mortifying for Levi, who snatches the game out of Asmo’s hand and rushes off muttering about how he should’ve known better than to let someone else get the mail this morning.

You should let Levi have a good half-hour before checking up on him. Quietly slipping into his room with a bowl of popcorn you can sit down next to him and ask if he’s started playing his new game yet. “Why do you want to know?” Levi’s gonna ask accusingly, letting him know you wanna spend time with him no matter what his brothers say about him and his game, will make him blush like crazy. The absolute best way to get him to forget all about breakfast though would be to ask him if you could stay and watch while he played. (Bonus points if you use watching him play a dating game as a way to give him pointers on wooing you)

Beelzebub:

Beel is too big, too soft, too precious to be embarrassed about anything. Or at least that’s what you thought, but when he caught sight of you in the stands he couldn’t help the blush that formed, his team noticed. Soon enough they started giving him little “oohs” and “ahhhs” and suggestive winks, saying that he should make sure to show off a little extra just for his “beau in the bleachers” you couldn’t see it from where you were but Beel got even redder and tried to laugh it off and back to practicing. Now this wasn’t the first time you’ve showed up to watch Beel practice, but it is the first time he’s known you were in the stands watching. Every time before you’d sat way in the back and watch for a minute or two before going off to do something else. Today you had no other commitments so you thought you’d stay and support him. But pretty early on you noticed he was fumbling more often than the other times you’d watched. You thought nothing of it, maybe it was just an off day, they happened, after all.

After practice when the two of you were relaxing, you brought it up and asked if he had a bad day before practice. Beel immediately reddened up, but had no qualms about explaining his team got him worked up about you being there and he was trying to look good for you but in the process fumbled up during practice. Seeing a blushing Beel is one of the cutest sights, and seeing that he got embarrassed of your behalf because he was trying to impress you is so adorable you cant help but smile really big at him and give him a quick peck on the lips.

Belphegor:

Belphie ended up embarrassed because you had spent a lot of effort into making up a nice night for he and you to go stargazing, but three hours before you were going to set off for your date he persuaded you into a nap. Belphie woke up before you did and when he looked at the time he saw that the two of you were supposed to leave an hour ago. He wanted to go back to sleeping and pretend in the morning like it was a big goof and you could go out another night, but he instead decided not to let all of your hard work go to waste. He softly shook you awake and while you were still recovering from your impromptu nap he had persuaded you to take, he explained that the both of you had overslept. He was so upset and embarrassed that he had ruined the date you planned but instead of you getting upset with him like he expected, you laughed. After you got yourself together you looked at Belphie “you know the starts will still be there even though we slept in, yeah?” Oh. Now Belphie understood why you laughed, but it didn’t really make him feel much better that you laughed about it after he felt so bad.

It’s written all over Belphie face that this whole deal got him upset, so you rolled out of bed, and pulled in your shoes “if we go now we can watch the stars, ill go grab the picnic basket from the fridge and hope Beel hasn’t beaten us to it.” You stopped by Belphie to pull him into a big hug before he got to his feet and joined you to go start your date.

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brelione · 4 years ago

Text

After (The Best Boys)

Series Masterlist

Warnings:Smut, hospitals, mental breakdowns/panic attacks.

After the three weeks that Topper was in the hospital everyone was in pure agony.None of you were really sleeping properly, your days spent at the hospital with your friend, voices never going above a whisper.

He was getting better, able to sit up in his hospital bed and play uno with you and Rafe while Kelce napped on your lap.Kelce was getting the least sleep, the stress all catching up with him.

You didnt know how to bring it up, instead helping him in the only way you really knew how.That was by extra hugs, a shit ton of forehead kisses and sleeping in his bed with him when he stayed at your house.You had no idea what was happening with you and Rafe.

When Kelce would leave whether it be to the grocery store or to pick up McDonalds you would find yourself on the couch with Rafe, sharing feather like kisses with your arms wrapped around eachother.You still hadnt figured out all your feelings.

You knew that you liked kissing Rafe but you werent sure why.He was gentle and it calmed you but that didnt mean you loved him, right?Sometimes when you were kissing Rafe you’d start to worry about Kelce.

You would usually go with him when he went grocery shopping but he now preferred to go alone, figuring that it would help him clear his head and get lost in the music from his radio.

You laid with your chest pressed against Rafe’s, your hand twirling his hair with his head resting against your neck, arm around your waist.You were still wearing Topper’s hoodie, switching between the gray hoodie you had took from him and the black one with a rabbit sillouhette on the back.

You still felt scared of touching Topper, way too worried about hurting him even when he was practically begging for hugs and forehead kisses.It killed you to not be able to, wanting nothing more than to hug him and kiss him and laugh at how stupid he was.

Rafe sighed, lifting his head from your shoulder, the tip of his nose resting against yours, letting out a small sigh. “You excited to take Topper home tomorrow?”He asked, his eyes only half open as he spoke.You hummed, a small grin on your face.

“Mhmm...Ive missed him a lot.”You glanced down at Rafe’s lips, looking back up at his eyes.A small smile tugged at his lips, leaning towards you and pressing a gentle kiss to your lips, smiling a bit.A dozen of gentle pecks later and he had ended up on top of you, elbows on either side of your waist, sighing against your lips.

“The nurse said we can do movie nights again soon as long as its not too loud.”He informed you, placing a gentle kiss on your nose, smiling when you let out a small laugh. “Thats good...I think he has to have like infinite movie picking nights.”You replied, leaning up to kiss him again.

He nodded, biting his lip. “Yeah, definitely.But the no horror movie rule still stands, right?”He asked, looking down at you with a big smile.You rolled your eyes, pulling his head down so you could kiss his forehead.

“Yeah, the rule still stands.”You grinned, your hand going back to play with his soft hair.He had washed it today.You could tell because it was nice and soft, well conditioned with some high end conditioner.

Out of curiosity you sniffed it, face heating up when he lifted his head, raising an eyebrow. “Are you sniffing my hair?”He asked, trying not to laugh.You rolled your eyes.

“Shut up.”You grumbled, tugging lightly at the dark hair.He let out a low moan, surprising you both. “Did you just…”You trailed off, noticing how red his face had gotten, his face burying itself into the soft fabric of the hoodie. “Shut up!”He exclaimed.

You simply laughed, sniffing his soft hair again, trying to figure out what the scent was.He laughed, holding onto you tightly.His hair smelt like maraschino cherries and roses. “Your hair smells really nice.”You told him, inhaling the scent again.

He let out another laugh, biting his lip. “Yeah?”He asked, trying to remember which shampoo he had used that morning.You nodded, not able to feel your legs from his weight on top of you.The door swung open, Kelce coming in with a brown bag of Chinese food, setting it down on the table.

He didnt say anything, just sat down on the floor and started to take the food out, placing the boxes on the table.You frowned, Rafe getting off of you so you could move across the couch, hugging Kelce from behind. “You okay?”You asked, pressing a light kiss to his cheek.

He sighed, leaning back against you and letting you wrap your legs under his arms. “You seem stressed.Do you need to talk about something?”You asked, quiet enough that only he could hear it.He shook his head, opening one of the boxe and handing you a crab rangoon, laughing when you took it in your teeth right from his hand.

“We need to save rice for Topper.”You reminded Rafe as he scooped it onto a paper plate with a spoon.He frowned, shaking his head. “Nope, Topper drove off a bridge.He gets no rice.”he replied, staring up at you as you glared down at him.

It took a few seconds before he hummed, putting some of his rice back into the container. “Should we get him cake or something?They wont let us smuggle him McDonalds so maybe we should get him that.”You thought out loud, grabbing another crab rangoon.

They shrugged, not really knowing. “My mom wants me to be home more often because she’s convinced i’ll crash like Topper did.I dont know, she just wants me home tomorrow for a family day or something.I’ll probably just stop by Topper’s house after you guys drop him off tomorrow.”Kelce fixed himself a plate, the two of you ending up switching positions so that you were on the floor while he sat on the couch with his legs on either side of you.

You sighed, resting your elbows on his knees while you bit into a piece of shrimp.Rafe turned on the tv, staring at you and Kelce.He wasnt sure what was happening with you.He didnt really understand why you two did what you did or why you guys never talked about it.

He ended up turning on Nickelodeon, glad when Victorious started playing.Rafe was grumpy the whole night, up until three in the morning as he scrolled through his phone.You and Kelce were cuddled up at the end of the couch, your arms and legs wrapped around him with your nose pressed against his chest, loud snored escaping the two of you.

Eventually he fell asleep, his phone on his chest and his head on the arm rest.He was woken up by you jumping up and down on the couch, grinning when you saw his eye open. “You gotta get up, bubs.We have to go get Topper.”You reminded him, hopping off the couch.

Rafe groaned, shifting on the couch and resting his face against the cushion.He dozed off again, grumbling when you climbed on top of him, demanding that he get up. “Hmm...where’s Kelce?”He asked, eyes half open. “He went home, its almost three in the afternoon, Topper can leave by four.”You kissed Rafe’s forehead, noticing how confused he was.

“Three?”He asked, looking over to check the time on his phone.You nodded, getting off of him and heading upstairs to change your clothes.He groaned, finally getting off your couch and stretching his long limbs.Dragging himself up the stairs and into your guest room he had nearly fell on the stairs twice, closing the door behind him.

His clothes were scattered all over the room, groaning as he searched for his yellow shirt, cursing.He forgot to knock, walking straight into your room. “Hey, do you have my yellow shirt?”He asked, watching you tie your shoes.You bit your lip, glancing over to your closet.

“No.”You lied, standing up straight once you had your shoes on.He chuckled, walking over to your closet.You quickly grabbed his arm, trying to prevent him from opening the door.He easily held you back, seeing the yellow shirt hanging in the closet.

He grabbed it, running past you. “Rafe!You cant have that!”You shouted, running through the house.He laughed, running into your kitchen before realising he had cornered himself.You ran at him, trying to take the shirt back.

“Rafe-thats mine!”You exclaimed, clinging onto his arm and trying to bring it back down so you could take it from him. “No, no its not.”He answered, holding it high above his head.You sighed, wrapping your arms around his torso.

He frowned, eventually giving in and hugging you back, forgetting that he was holding the shirt when you swiped it from him, holding it to your chest. “thanks.”You grinned, stepping on your tiptoes to kiss him lightly.He sighed, arms tight around your waist, knowing it would be the last kiss he got that morning since you two would most likely be with Topper for the rest of the day.

“Hmm...we gotta go.”He mumbled against your lips, not really wanting to pull away.You sighed softly, kissing him again. “Let me just grab my backpack really quick.”You kissed his nose, noticing how tired he looked.You grabbed your small leather backpack before coming back into the kitchen, seeing Rafe eating a handful of frozen berries right out of the bag.The two of you got into the car in silence as you texted Kelce.

You:Hows family day going?

Bean:we cant decide on a movie

Bean:hows Topper doing?

You:We’re on our way to the hospital rn.My heart is literally pounding im kinda nervous ngl

Bean:felt that.How’s Rafe doing?He seemed mad last night

You:Rafe’s fine he just slept weird

You:Are you ok?You’ve been really stressed lately

Read at 3:43 pm

You sighed, placing your phone between your thighs.Rafe raised an eyebrow, wondering whether or not he should ask about your sudden mood change.You were out of the car before it even stopped, speed walking to the hospital entrance with Rafe close behind you.

You took in a deep breath as you walked through the motion activating doors, the cool air conditioned air hitting your skin.Rafe came up quick behind you, not wanting to lose you in the hospital.

Topper was sitting at a little waiting area on a red couch, reading something from a magazine.He was wearing loose gray sweatpants and a white T Shirt, squinting as he tried to read.You ran over to him, grinning when he looked up at you, slowly standing up and letting you hug him.

You closed your eyes,arms tight around his torso, his nose in your hair. “Hi.”He grinned, trying not to laugh.You were acting like you hadnt seen him in months, cautious of his casted arm. “Hi.”You replied, feeling your eyes moisten.

You refused to let go even when Topper lifted up his head to greet Rafe.His forehead wound had healed nicely, a stip of medical tape over the area.The stitches had been removed a few days prior, the tip of his tongue fully healed so he could eat better foods.

“(Y/N).”He mumbled, a red blush across his face.You took in a big breath, looking up at him curiously. “I asked the nurse and she said I can have forehead kisses now.”He replied, flicking your hip lightly.

You sighed, cupping his face so he’d lean down a bit, placing a gentle kiss to his forehead.A weight lifted off his shoulders, letting out a low sigh.He had missed that feelin so much, glad he could finally enjoy your touch again.He sighed softly, resting his head on your shoulder.

“We’re gonna get McDonalds and Kelce said he’d stop by your house later.Do you need to check out with the nurse or something?”You asked, feeling his hot breath against your collarbone. “Noo...we can just go.”He replied, most of his weight on you.You sighed, rubbing his back. “Are you sure?”You asked.

He nodded, kissing your jaw lightly.You looked over to Rafe, seeing him just standing there nervously.Once Topper had picked up the magazine and slid it up his shirt you guys walked out, Topper holding your hand tight, the sun causing him to squint.

You sat in the backseat with Topper, making sure that his seatbelt was secure. “Its scary to be in a car again.”He admitted, holding onto the door handle.You sighed, squeezing his hand.

“The ride to your house from here is pretty smooth, no bridges or anything.”You reminded him, feeling his good hand on your thigh. “Can I turn on the radio?”Rafe asked.Topper sighed, kissing your temple. “Low volume.”He told the brunette, leaning against you with his eyes squeezed shut as the car started moving.

Your hand was running though his hair, rubbing at the back of his neck and avoiding his hairline.You placed a kiss on the top of his head, feeling yourself blushing a bit. “Hey, hey what do you guys want?”Rafe asked as he pulled up to the drive thru, stopping the truck.Topper grinned.

“Uhh...a quarter pounder with extra pickles and large fries.”He replied, noticing how you were staring at his blue cast.Rafe pulled up to the window, handing you the large brown paper bag.You were quick to unwrap Topper’s burger halfway for him, letting him hold it.

“What about meds?Do we need to pick them up for you?”You asked, taking one of his fries.He slowly shook his head, slurping down his burger, nearly dropping a pickle. “No, they’re getting dropped by my house.”he replied, offering you a bite of his burger.

“Thats good.”You mumbled, taking another fry. “What kind of meds?”Rafe asked, shutting up when he saw you glare at him. “Just like, pain meds.I dont know.Ive gotta take like three a day for two weeks I think.”He replied, halfway done with his burger when he quietly asked you if you could wrap it back up for him so he could save it for later.

Your heart dropped when Rafe pulled into his driveway, knowing that you wouldnt be able to see him again until tomorrow.You got up, helping him inside the house and shutting the door behind you, sighing. “Its been a while.”You muttered, taking in the white tile of the opening room, a chandelier hanging from the ceiling.

He nodded in agreement, slowly walking into his living room.It wasnt too different from yours except for the gray carpet and the different couch.He sat down on it, seeming confused.You placed the McDonalds bag on the side table, looking down at him.

“Hey, can I tell you something without you freaking out?”he asked, shifting in his spot so he could look at you properly.You hummed, hoping it wasnt something too bad. “Yeah, yeah I guess.”You replied, waiting anxiously.He gulped, taking in a large breath.

It took him a second to finally form words, his legs tingling. “Um...so im in love with you and I have been for a while now.I dunno, when I called 911 the last thing I thought about was you.I just thought you should know.”He confessed, his heart thumping so hard that if he were still in the hospital the nurses would come rushing in.

Your eyes widened, trying to think of something to say.That wasnt what you were expecting him to say, taking in a large breath that hurt your ribs. “um...uh….I um….”You stuttered, taking in another breath.You let out a nervous giggle, covering your face.

“Im sorry, this is just crazy….um….so can we just….can we talk about this another time, please?”You asked, not sure you could handle everything that was being thrown at you.Topper nodded, grinning.

“Yeah, yeah its fine...we dont have to talk about it.I just wanted you to know.”He muttered, avoiding your gaze. “Alright...um...im gonna go but i’ll see you tomorrow.”You left quickly, shutting the door and hopping into the passenger seat, still shaking.

Rafe frowned, trying to figure out what had happened. “Whats wrong?”He asked, hand on your thigh to get it to stop bouncing.You sighed, looking over at him. “Topper just….he’s talking weird.Its stupid, hes drugged out of his mind anyways.Can we just go home, please?”You asked, wanting to focus on something else.

Had all those hugs and kisses meant something different to Topper this whole time?Or did they just mean something different to you?Now things were starting to make sense.Why Topper had left that night three nights ago, why he had always glared at Kelce whenever the two of you were cuddling.

Now you felt all the guilt.You were hurting Topper this whole time by being so close with Rafe and Kelce when he was supposedly in love with you.And now you would be hurting Topper now because of how often you and Rafe did things that shouldnt be done between best friends.

Everything was so fucked up now.Rafe was pouting, trying to understand what possibly couldve happened in the five minutes that you were inside Topper’s house. “Are you okay?Did something bad happen?”He asked, reaching for your hand.

You sighed, lifting your hands so your elbows were on the armrest, resting your head against his hand. “No, just weird shit.Its fine, Rafe.”You replied, sighing when he pulled into your driveway.It was already 5:30.You got out of his truck, going inside quickly. “Hey, why are you walking so fast?”Rafe asked, struggling to keep up with you even with his long legs.

You simply huffed, going up the stairs.He was confused, following you anyways. “I just…”You trailed off, groaning as you flopped onto your bed.He pouted, sitting at the foot of your bed after closing your door. “What?”He asked, not understanding.

You rolled onto your back in a starfish position, staring at the ceiling. “Im just stressed is all.Do you want to watch something?”You asked, looking over to see your remote on your night stand, surprised when his hands gripped your hips. “Do you want me to help with the stress?”He asked, hovering over you.

You knew where he was getting at, not sure how to think about it.It had been nearly a month since he had touched you like that but it had lead to something bad happening.But thinking something bad would happen everytime you messed around with someone was crazy, right?

You slowly leaned up, kissing him lightly.It didnt take long for his hands to move down to your pants, carefully pulling them down your legs.He looked up at you before pulling down your light blue underwear, making sure that you were okay before dipping his tongue into you, holding your thighs down as he pressed a kiss to your clit.

You let out a low moan, fingers squeezing at your comforter as he licked a stripe up your folds.One of your hands moved down, tugging lightly at his hair.He let out a moan, letting you direct him the way you wanted, his tongue plunging in and out of you, eyes closing.

He sucked on your clit, trying not to smile at how loud you were, slipping a finger into your entrance.He wasn't sure how this would end up, remembering your promise from last time.You moaned loudly when he added another finger, pumping them in and out of you.

He could feel you getting close, kitten licking your clit to tease you.A shiver ran up your spine, moaning loudly as your eyes clenched shut. “Rafe-please.”You whimpered.He smiled up at you, adding another finger to stretch you out a bit, slowly moving.

“Rafe.”You whined, trying to get him to move faster.He simply chuckled, giving you what you wanted and beginning to speed up, your moans only making him move faster.You climaxed with a loud, high pitched moan, letting go of his hair as you panted.

Feeling his tongue moving again you let out a soft moan as he cleaned you up, your fluids on his chin and fingers as he licked them clean.He wiped his chin off with the back of his hand, looking up at you. “Rafe.”You whispered, knowing how crazy you were about to sound.

He leaned back over you, his nose touching yours. “yeah?”He asked, not sure what to expect.You let out a soft sigh, kissing him gently. “I want...I want to go all the way.”You told him, noticing his breath hitch in his throat.He gulped, not sure if he could do it.

He didn't want to hurt you. “Are you sure?”He asked, looking into your eyes.You nodded slowly, anxiety building up in you as he slowly pulled down his pants, letting you palm him through his boxers.He let out a moan, wanting you to apply more pressure.

“Are you sure that you want this?”He repeated his question, biting his lip.You let out a shaky breath, nodding. “Im sure.”You replied, eyes widening when he pulled down his boxers.He was huge.You just had to hope it wouldn't hurt as bad as it looked.

“Its gonna hurt a little, alright?I need you to tell me what you want.If you want me to stop I need you to tell me.If you want me to slow down I need you to tell me, okay?”He asked, wanting to make sure that everything would be okay.You nodded, touching his hair lightly.

The first few inches didn't hurt but when he was about half way in you hissed in pain, gripping his shoulders.He came to a halt, looking down at you with a concerned expression. “Baby, hey, hey.Do you need me to stop?”He asked, preparing to pull out when your fingernails dug into his skin.

“no...no.Keep going.”You replied.He began to move again slowly, biting his lip.He was nearly fully inside you, trying not to moan as you kept clenching around him due to his size.You were whimpering, eyes becoming watery as he was finally inside of you.It stung a lot, scratching up his back.You sniffled, glad he was taking things slow.

You took in a deep breath, a few tears rolling down your cheeks. “Shh...I know, I know.It’s okay, you’re okay.”Rafe whispered, cupping your face and wiping away the tears. “It hurts.”You whispered, sniffling.He bit his lip, kissing his forehead as he tried to help with the pain or at least distract you from it.

He wanted to pull out and run you a bath, trying not to make himself cry. “Do you want me to stop?”He aksed, trying his best to stay completely still.You shook your head, holding onto hims tighter, his face in the crook of your neck with his chest pressed against yours.

“Baby- I indeed you to try and relax, alright?Tensing up only makes it worse, take deep breaths, ready?Breath in, breath out.”He pressed a gentle kiss to your collarbone, listening to your breathing. “Good girl...in and out, just keep breathing.Im gonna start moving a little, okay?”He asked, feeling you nod against his shoulder.

He took in a deep breath, pulling out ever so slightly before pushing back in, clenching his eyes shut. “You okay?”he asked, pulling his head from your shoulder, looking down at you.You nodded, taking in a deep breath. “Yeah-it hurts a little but im okay.”You confirmed, kissing him lightly.He let out a soft sigh, squeezing your waist lightly.

“Ready?”He asked, keeping his hands on your hips, waiting.You let out a shaky breath, nodding.He was careful, only pulling out a quarter of the way before slowly moving back in, jaw dropping when you moaned.His heart was thumping fast as he moved slowly, groaning.

“Shit.”He whispered, leaning down to kiss your cheeks, nose and lips. “How are you feeling, sweetheart?”He asked, pulling out halfway this time before pushing back in, watching as your eyes widened and a moan came from you.

“Shit, Rafe.”You moaned, nails digging further into his back.He took a deep, shaky breath. “God, youre so fucking tight.”He moaned, letting out a low whimper, repeating the action of pulling out halfway before pushing in again. “Rafe-”You couldn't even form a full sentence before you were moaning again.

He was pleased with your reaction, moving a little faster and pulling out almost completely before pushing back in. “You want me to slow down?”He offered.You shook your head, running a hand through his hair. “Faster.”You muttered, seeing a surprised look spread across his face.

He began to speed up his actions, pulling out nearly completely before plunging back into you, both of you moaning loudly,He was panting, a light layer of sweat covering his face, going as fast as he could. “Rafe-im gonna-”You moaned, your head rolling against your pillow as you clenched around him,cumming all over his cock.

He licked his lips, slowly pulling out of you.He picked up a towel from your floor, carefully wiping your thighs clean. “You did so well, baby.How are you feeling?”He asked, picking up his boxers from the foot of the bed and pulling them back up, laying down next to you.

The sun was just going down, red and purple hues covering the sky like a wonderful painting, the golden light coming through your blinds.You held onto his arm, resting against his bicep. “Im fine...im tired as shit but im fine.”You replied, hearing your phone ringing from your shorts.

You sighed, too tired to move.Rafe grabbed it for you, telling you that Kelce was trying to call you.You were panting too hard to answer, Rafe gulping and licking his lips before lifting the phone to his ear. “Hello?”He asked.You noticed the way his eyes widened, eyebrows knitting together.

“Chill, man.Just- what do you mean you broke it?Well dont-hello?”Rafe asked, realising his friend had hung up.You looked up at him with a confused expression, trying to figure out what was wrong. “So Kelce broke his door and he’s on his way now.He really doesn't sound too good.”Rafe answered, slowly sitting up.

After the call about Topper you thought you had heard the worst news you’d ever recieve.But hearing that Kelce had broke something made you want to vomit.Kelce freaking out was how you knew the world had hit rock bottom but it didnt help that you didnt know what he was freaking out about.Shit.

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