#and then i cant even take it off once its done cos it needs to dry. -_-

[lokh]

having to paint leggings while they're on ur body is so. -_-

[chrolloluvr]

Hi, happy to see you back❤. I remember in one of your previous works, you mentioned Mammon possibly would babytrap reader. May you please write something on this topic?

♡ Toxic!Mammon: Babytrapping Hcs ♡

Note: Ty! Also she is referring to this post. THANK YOU FOR ALL THE REQUESTS!!! KEEP THEM COMING POOKIES! ALSO IK I HAVENT MADE AN ACTUAL POST IN A WHILE SO HERE YALL GO

Female!reader, AFAB

Warnings: NSFW, toxic themes, creampie, future child, exploiting

He will babytrap you, 100%

As I have said before, Mammon likes the idea of having complete control over you, your life, and everything you do. And what better of a way to do that than making you bear his child?

He gets this magical, invasive idea when talking to one of his work buddies. He was talking about how annoying you were, even though he cannot live without you, when his co-worker mentions how much responsibility and care a woman has for her children. And the idea hits him. If you are just going to sit around lazily all day like a spoiled brat, why not add a child into the mix?

So he will have you prowled up against his chest, his cock basically stuffing you full, as he pistons in and out of your already sore pussy. Seemingly out of nowhere, telling you

"You'd be such a good mother, wouldn't you babe."

"'Wanna see you swoll with my kids, wouldn't that be somethin'-"

Which makes you feel physically ill. Raising a child with Mamm would be basically impossible. You would never raise a child with this man. Would he support you? Would he genuinley care for your baby? Oh Satan, would he even care-

Your thoughts are abrupted as Mammon stuffs you with his seed, finishing inside yours walls and painting them with a loud groan. He gives your ass a harsh slap, as he watches his cum spilling out of you. He looks you in the eyes, and gives you a daunty chuckle. He forces you to look up at him with your tired, exhausted eyes, as he tells you ohoho babe, we aren't finished until i'm done, alright?.

And he keeps that promise, with the goal of getting you pregnant. He knows the public would go feral. The King of Greed? With a child? It gives him a publicity boost, which in turn, is good for his business, and his image.

Once you find out you are pregnant, you have to eventually tell Mammon, to your dismay. Every day, he makes you take an on brand pregnancy test as he watches. He will hold the test while you pee. Yes you heard me right. So when the test says positive one day, he is over the moon. Not at the fact that he is going to be a father, but at the fact that he is now in complete control over you, and that he can use another part of you as a pawn in his twisted fantasy.

The paparazzi have a field day over this news, because he ends up almost immediately making an announcement. There are headlines, candid photos of you going forcefully outside by mammon, etc. Its like a never ending nightmare. And dont be mistaken, he would never let you out of his sights, or get an abortion. He thinks this is too good of an opportunity.

Behind closed doors, he will actually treat you very well. Feeding you, paying attention to your every need, and not letting you lift a finger. He may even go out of his way to find some stuff by himself at the store. He'll will make you go outside with him. But at times he has to do a meeting, or host an event, he will have his goons escort you places, making sure you go public routes, to get a really good look at your swollen belly.

Brings you to meetings during this time, and picking your outfits carefully. He cant have his darling wearing any disgusting maternity clothes. So he will have you perches on his lap while he sits in his seat, embarrassment eating you whole as you see the sins/overlords snickering and bickering presumably at you. He has one hand rubbing your round belly, and one hand rubbing your shoulders as Mammon discusses his newest buisness plan.

He would create a Mammon Baby Care line. He knows he will profit off your pregnancy

"Alright fellas, so i was thinking for the ladys, a Mammon breast pump, hm? Its great right? Oh! And Mammon themed bibs, ha! Sure to make me a bunch, right babes?"

People think, how could you let Mammon knock you up? Of course, millions of girls idolize Mammon, and would want to be with him. But sometimes it feels like you are the only one who is infatuated with him. So you will try to look past the fact that he got you pregnant. You'll just try to be hopeful. But it is literally impossible with the way he keeps sweet talking you, as you snap back into the sad reality that you will be having Mammons child, and raising it. No questions to be asked.

He will lead you to subconsciously feel insecure about you and your body. He will squeeze your newly chubby cheeks, glaze his fingers over your stretch marks newly littering your body, etc. And he definitely does that on purpose.

As you reach up to the half full Nutella jar in the high cabinet in the kitchen, you hear a pair of loud footsteps coming behind you. Its Mammon. You try your best to ignore him, but you cant help but feel uneasy when you feel a pair of familiar eyes on you. It is currently 1:30 AM, and he is in a really tired mood.

"You need help sweets?"

He said with a suckle voice, knowing its affects on you are vast. He looks you up and down, admiring your perfect body in his mind. Your curves, belly, and the look your giving him. It makes him want to just bend you over and fuck your brains out likes theres no tomorrow. But he cant, he just has to be extra agile with you.

"Mamm..."

"Yeah?"

"Do I look fat?"

Ohhh boy. The question you always ask when you feel like he's eyeing you up. he hates when you ask that, because then he has to make up some half assed excuse to why he's looking at you a certain way. When your pregnant, he basically has to walk on eggshells around you.

"You... look like your carrying my child, and I like the sight of that."

"Okay, do you love me?"

He pauses. One wrong answer, and you'll refuse to talk to him for weeks. You two, as of your relationship, are in a really good spot right now. You will basically do anything for him. But you are really sensitive emotionally and physically, due to your hormones.

As he walks up behind you, he lifts you up by your waist, and hold you up to the cabinet, letting you reach.

"Y/N."

He says in a low, gruff voice.

"Yeah Mamm?"

"What the hell kind of question is that. Of course I love you."

He says as you look at him, face to face. You watch his eyes never leave yours, which makes you break off eye contact in a flustered state. You then realize that he is holding you, which makes you feel insecure.

"Okay, I love you too Mamm"

"Alright, now get your sweet treat, and get the fuck to bed, and hurry up. We've got a busy day tomorrow sweets."

He sets you down, and leaves the kitchen, leaving you with yourself, your Nutella and a spoon in hand. You look down at yourself, and your huge stomach. You wonder how you got yourself into this twisted predicament. You mostly worry about your baby's future as Mammons child. Because you are aware that Mammon will only use them for his own monetary gain. You cannot escape this man, even if you try. But you can always pretend you have your own free will, and you could always just eat your silly thoughts away, as Mammon always told you.

[xoluvx]

hello my loveeee! I was the one that had a little query i need some help on. Thank u for hearing me out, okay it’s a long one so STRAP IN (not the smut kind HAHA) alrighty Welp here goes

I’m in love. And I’m in love with someone I can’t have. Last year I met this girl, she’s way older than me and is already in a committed relationship for years. But anyway. I Met her at work, she originally trained me up to do my job and then we bumped into eachother at a convention. Since that day we became friends and regularly (monthly and sometimes weekly) planned to see eachother. Eventually she left her job and moved to another role in the organisation so I still got to see her. Anyway, then we did a big group activity with another friend of hers and I had another friend of mine, but i told her I missed her cos i didn’t get a chance to talk properly. AnywYs, few months go by, still the same stuff happening it’s going fine. Altho She had some serious health issues with her family earlier in the year and I told her I was there for her if she needed ANYTHING. And then July comes by. Man. I probably had one of the worst weeks in July, and I didn’t even tell her half of it. She didn’t even ONCE say “oh I’m so sorry to hear about this I hope you’re ok, or NOTHING”,. Eventually I updated her on one thing and she was like “you did good”. THE HECK? Then she made me a beanie (she loves to crochet) as a token of support. But after that? NOTHING. We’ve barely texted, our next organised day to see eachother isn’t till THE END OF OCTOBER AND I ASKED FOR OUR NEXT ACTIVITY DAY BACK IN THE MIDDLE OF AUGUST. ITS A TWO MONTH WAIT, R U KIDDING. And now she’s hanging out with the same friend we did our big group activity with along with her partner. She met this other friend before I came along and they’ve known eachother for years. And I’m VERY aware of it. Bht I get so jealous every time they post shit together because a year ago that was me. I just don’t understand where it all went wrong. I have one bad week and it’s like i always need to be happy otherwise I’m no ‘use’ to her. I’m barely in my 20s. She hasn’t even reached out to say she ‘misses me’ like she used to. Reciprocation is non existent.

’ve been so blinded by her, and fueled my fantasy of her that when i take the rose coloured glasses off i CANT Even fathom the true person she actually is. She’s still that person I was in awe of at the start, but picking up on things she says and does makes me raise eyebrows, and frankly it breaks my heart because it hurts so much. It hurts so so much. She played me like I’m a fool and I was so blindly infatuated with her. She was also really touchy felt too, we held hands and hugged all the time. I had never had that with a friend before.

She opened my eyes up to affection I had never had, i wrote her letters on her birthday, gave her gifts, chocolates and food. I had NEVER done that for anyone else that fast in my life. I even purposelfully made myself stay up late for her till 1-2am just so I could message her cos I knew she’d be up at that hour. And I’m so scared that I might be losing her after falling down the rabbit hole. Y’all I was so careful. I WAS SO SO CAREFUL AT THE START. BC I KNEW WHAT I WAS GETTING INTO. And then she just drew me in only to spit me back out. And I feel awful. I feel like a dickhesd for falling in love with a girl that only broke my heart more. I don’t know how I’m supposed to get out of it.

Thanks for reading this, I’d love anyone’s advice and thoughts. I love you x

dear anon that fell in love with someone they can't have,

this was a doozy. when i tell you i went through every emotion-

first, this isn't your fault. you physically cannot control who you fall for. no matter how careful you are. especially considering this person led you on and made you feel like there might've been a chance at something more.

second, you have to set boundaries with this person. maybe that means cutting back on your monthly activities little by little.

i think everything happens for a reason and everything has a purpose in the longer scheme of life. some people are meant to just be in your life for a short time. it seems like this is the case. you shouldn't stall your life because of this person.

i know this is all so much easier said than done, but it's time to move on with your life even if it means leaving her in the past. your heart will heal, but you will never get those years you've spent pinning over a person who could care less about your well-being.

i love you. thank you for sharing with me and trusting me.

calling all my babies - additional advice is welcomed 💖

[inventedfangirling]

this post is 100% a joke and none of it is to be taken seriously but WHAT if i let my imagination run wild and make up a buncha bogus clown predictions cos i need to get them out and i need sandray to be happy!?

i know it's silly to think about a possible happy ending for any of the three(or more) pairs in messy gays the show (idk who coined this but i love it and am copying it, thankyou) especially this early into it's run while we haven't even seen the half of it BUT i still want to put forward my two cents now so i can come back later and check this post out and laugh at how wrong i was. im going to go as wild as i possibly can (within the limits of the show) so i definitely will be going wrong. i can't wait to see just how wrong lmao.

lemme just put on my clown makeup real quick.

alright now that's done, without further ado.....

nick & boston

...are gonna blow the group up and mess everything up for everybody, they'll be fighting in front of everyone but they'll be in cahoots at some point, playing everybody off each other and then somehow riding off into the sunset with a buncha cash to a land where nobody knows them, boston is still sleeping around (i dont totally buy his words from the ep 5 preview) but so is nick now, finally having discovered the joys of non monogamy, the last shot is gonna be them setting foot in this imaginary land and its gonna be epic

sandray my beloveds....

....are gonna fall in and out of love one after the other, never at the same time ending in a huge fallout and they decide to part ways forever until fate (ray keeps showing up at places sand gets invited to sing at) intervenes and brings them back and gets them to fall in love at the same time once again and this time despite all the nickboston fuckery and every other mess the group gets to, they get together and decide to stay together, their last scene is ray taking sand to his mother's grave after having been proposed to on a beach or a boat (what up eclipse reference) and its gonna be so sickly sweet we wonder how we got here from where we started!

top & mew

i know im not writing a fic but its kinda similar so TRIGGER WARNING : mcd

ah topmew, ngl i have no fcking clue what these two are gonna be upto. i genuinely have no read on their future as a couple. it just doesn't seem plausible in the least. i wanna be dramatic and say top dies in a tragic fire accident that mirrors his childhood incident and mew gets his hotel business (this is real and i didnt dream this up right? i have a tendency to do that lmao) and he rescues a kitten and calls it mew and they live happily ever after or the kitten scratches him to death, eitherways i cant see them happier together than they were here in this silent disco scene, which could be surface level for all we've seen so thats them

cheum & april

these two are gonna show up together towards the middle of all the drama yell at all of them for being such dudes, dole out choice advice, leave until mess gets sorted and will bring everyone together for one last time during their wedding before they move away to another country, far away from the messy gays and their mess and then they'll write a story based on the messy gays and then sell the rights to a famous director duo and then they sit back and watch the money rolling in, happy, in love, and unbothered💅✨

[hiddenreflections]

Like the main pedo in my childhood appeared to be profoundly proud of being who he is, he loved having this sort of double-life where only his victims and the people enabling the abuse really knew who he really was. He looked down on his victims, he looked down on the people enabling it, and he looked down on the people to easily caught up in his lies and facade.

He told me once in my childhood that hes lying to everyone around him, and he asked me what id think that makes him, what sort of person I think he is for that, that no one actually knows him, that hes only playing pretend with everyone, he made that thrilled expression he had when he was sure smth he said would feel gut-wrenching or terrifying to me. And I "trying to empathize" asked him if maybe he felt ashamed of who he is, because why would he lie to so many people if he didnt feel ashamed of who he was? He got very upset about that answer, and it felt like he wanted to hit me or beat me up, but he didnt. Later in the same reign of conversation he told me had only lied to me as well, he had only played a role with me too, and he asked me what id do or feel if he had lied to me and he didnt mean any of the nice things he had said to me, that he didnt care about me or love me, and that he really only was here to hurt me, that he really just wanted me to be in pain. He said it in a very neutral-sounding tone, and his face didnt show any type of emotion so it sounded non-threatening to me. The truth was that even at that point the amnesia and splitting off into parts surrounding this guy was so bad that I couldnt truly and properly remember any of the alleged "lying to me" and "buttering me up" he had done. But I felt more and more, that even if I or rather the fronting alter there, could not recall it, that the feeling we had that this guy had hurt us before was true afterall and that maybe we should get out, maybe we should just get up and leave the flat, try to run away.

But I or the alter in question didnt do that, we understood on some level this would only delay the fact and that hed be back, that or mother was enabling it, that we wouldnt be "around" to get help later, that we ourselves only were going off on vague feelings and almost memories regarding him, we were feeling very dissociated and surreal. We felt like we could just "go away" and the situation wouldnt continue or exist or would be, we could just "think him away" and wed never have to see him again, hours would pass and wed wake up like he never happened, and then life would continue and its like he never wouldve happened at all. like it wasnt real. With that sort of feeling, the alter in question decided not to "leave" internally by "just making him go away until it was hours later and everything was normal again" - cause the alter felt the situation was so unreal, and so vague itself and the alter could make it all go away at any second, maybe, that it felt a lot less scary to actually stay in the situation itself, esp. considering the alter didnt feel any of the alleged abuse this guy mightve already done was real, cuz it wasnt conciously remembered, there was only this feeling of knowing, this faint "Oh I didnt get the feeling about him wrong, he really did this type of stuff to me before" going off on this small feeling, the alter then thought, none of this needs to be real and I dont really need to deal with this, but in case this is real enough and I cant make it go away, or it is real in some way- I should talk to him and try to atleast better our situation or standing with him. He seems so hateful and angry. Knowing nothing concrete about him, but feeling I know a lot about him I cant quite remember, but know to be true on a gut-level, what can I say and do here? The alter, with adam slowly becoming co-concious because adam anticipated thered be active violence and overt abuse to take on soon, the alter said "I would like to work something out with you in that case. Id like to ask you questions. Why do you want to hurt me, have you hurt others?" The main pedo said, but im not sure if he actually did, cause it feels more unreal than the rest of this memory, more dissociated, more vague, possibly just smth the alter made themselves believe to make the predators behaviour make sense. But the main pedo answered that he since he was a child could not empathize with other people well, and when he saw someone in pain hes not sure why it happened, it aroused him. But that he even when they were in pain he couldnt really feel what the person felt. That he himself had not been sure why that aroused him so much. I asked him, how he was sure the person was actually in pain if he couldnt feel it himself? And he said, that he just knew. but that he possibly wouldnt be able to tell the difference if someone was faking it as long as it looked the same way. So I asked, you want to hurt me but what if I was faking being in pain and you would not actually hurt me, would that work too? And he looked incredibly turned on, inspired too, he looked like he wanted to praise me. He said, that would work, but youd have to offer me something specific so id actually want to do that. Why shouldnt I just hurt you? The alter in question thought long and hard, and felt based on what she allegedly gut-feeling wise and almost remembering knew about him, that he wanted something new, something special. He liked the idea of having smth he had not had before, something that was new, thrilling and "special-feeling". So the alter said, id have to give you something you havent been given before.

And he did not say anything but just looked at us, clearly excited this conversation was happening the way it was. The alter trying to make the main pedo feel special and flattered remembering in some sense that he was into that type of thing said, im sure people have offered you a lot of things here, im sure you heard a lot of it. I dont wanna say something wrong. And he looked at me and told me smth about how he always enjoys how creative children are, in ways most adults arent, that I should just come out and say it. The alter said, I could try to fullfill fantasies you have, specific fantasies. You surely have those, right? I could play them out for you, and each time I get hurt in this, id only pretend to be in pain for you. He said, with a expression that wouldnt tell me whether this answer had been satisfactionary to him, or won me any brownie points with him, the following : But you wont know if I really followed this. Youd have to blindly trust me. You wouldnt even remember if I had listened to you or not. Can you do that? Can you trust me to do it that way even though you wont remember any of it? And the alter wasnt to sure how to take that, because there was no visible satisfaction in his face where the alter had thought that she was able to say something that would make him see what we were offering as unique or special enough, that the worst could be prevented, and there would still be a lessening of pain. At first the alter interpreted anger into our abusers face, and it scared her. Then she took another look, and saw that maybe it just mattered a lot to him to know that wed blindly trust him, then the alter assumed that this was part of smth he enjoyed, having someone trust him blindly no matter what, no ifs and buts. And the alter felt if they decided to express distrust any sort of deal was off the table. Though the alter wasnt to sure about any of it at this point. She then said "I will trust you."

and he asked "Even if you know I could not act on it at all? Wed have to see that I get you to do what you just promised me without remembering any of it." The alter then said "Id ask you to make sure that is what I will do, since I wont be able to recall what I said here enough to go along with it, im sorry for the inconvinience." He asked "I will. Dont worry. I know you wont remember and that you couldnt go for it yourself. I know that I will have to work it out. I will. But ill ask you again, can you trust me in this?" And I felt insecure, I thought maybe I shouldve just run away through the door, maybe I shouldve denied accepting this as real and just "went away" again, because the longer time I spend awake around him the realer he felt, the more the possibility that he really had been hurting me, was going to hurt me, and that his words could never be trusted ever felt to me. Still I felt like within the little play and wriggle room I had, I had to see it through til the end. So I asked in the most innocent, angelic sounding voice possible "Yes. I trust you." And he asked "Why? Why do you think ill keep this agreement?" She thought, or I thought, for a little bit about it. I thought he wouldnt like it if we tried to appeal to the fact that theres something "good" in him or that he really didnt wanna hurt ur deep down or something, it seemed instinctive enough to go that route, but he did want to hurt us, and there was nothing good about him, I was sure about it. The idea that he mightve wanted us to love or accept him seemed laughable to me now too, even though I could not remember what made me think that at some point he had convinced us that is smth he desired.

And then I said, feeling like even saying that posed a substantial threat cause if I was wrong and someone had offered him that before, if maybe my idea was more typical than I felt it was, then it wouldnt have the value I felt it had and then my sentence would only seem arrogant and infuriate him for thinking I was better than I really am. But I didnt know what else to say so I said "Because I offered you something you didnt experience before, I offered you something special and new. I know that this is the type of person you are." He looked happy enough at me as I started to speak, but looked almost uncomfortable by the way I ended my sentence. It looked like he wanted to tell us that we dont know what type of person he is and we dont have enough to asess or judge that by. But he said "Youll just have to trust me then." I believe Adam took over the following times he was at our childhood home then, and then Adam was tasked with playing out specific fantasies our abuser had, and the "pain" Adam was supposed to feel in this, truly was the predator asking us to fake the pain.

[augustuswaters27]

Not just a slut. A bitch too.

6 years have passed.

I think of you everyday you once said. Lie.

The very next day, while your mum was driving. The shape of you - ed sheeran. You were thinking of him. It didnt take a day to forget me.

Can I go meet him? He is leaving for the UK to study. I am not interested in him. Lie. I trusted you. I expected loyalty.

He was just back on holiday. You are very interested. And have been for quite a while.

I try to be fair and I have held so much back till now. Is it your right to leave? Of course. But obviously you were having a thing for him and with him before we broke up. And you were lying blantantly before and after breakup. Despicable arent you? After we breakup, even if you screwed him, its not my issue. You even went out with him to orchard one evening and you lied to me about it while we were still together.

So after that "date", the next week, you gave me the middle finger. So what did happen that night? You never said anything. Shape of you. I wonder. Fast forward today. You are screwing him all the time now. It doesnt matter anymore, cos you pinned him down within 3 years.

To think I still had feelings for you. It ends here. This signals the end of everything we had on my part. I have searched for closure for so long. Your actions have proven everything I suspected. You have done what you did. You sold or threw away everything of us. It was quick. Within a day. Things were up on carousell within hours. Lights taken down. "I cant be reminded of you". I think the speed at which you were ready to jump for him showed alot. You were never invested. Dismissed. Gone. Thrown aside.

I have avoided calling you out. But looking at all the evidence. Its hard not to call you out as a slutty bitch. I have wanted for so long to believe you were a nice person. But you arent. And I am not the first guy you have done this to. You take people as toys. You used your friends around you - yue bin, sarah, gabriel to make yourself feel good. But you are never truly their friend. They fill your void. They are cast aside when you are done.

I know you never loved me. "Its all an infatuation" you said. Same dismissive language that you used on Ernest. You had your fun. Thankfully, me too. But you have left a scar so deep that I know I will carry to my grave. I frankly dont care if you hate me anymore. I know i love you and have loved you. I have carried this long enough. God pls.

You betrayed me. You are a two timing slut and bitch. Each phrase you said at broke up. A lie. I guess all along this was your true nature. Calculative and angling for the best catch.

"I need to find someone who wont cheat on me." Irony strikes. You played emotional blame. You pointed out my flaws to make me feel like shit. You are no saint. You accused me of emotional blackmail.

The very week, you broke off with me. You went out with him again. That saturday, when I waited in the carpark. There was a reason why I didnt see you.

He picked you up. You drove pass me. You brought him to your church. So its not just something that happens after we break up. I have every reason to call you out for the 2 timing piece of shit you are.

You had the cheek to say afterwards, it would have been awkward if we had ran into each other. This is not the action of someone to whom our relationship had mattered. It didnt. You were fast to move in on the new prey.

Love me as if I was gone. Even while the body was warm you were already with another man. Actually, even before I was dead, you were with him.

The next time we met, you were going orchard towers. I now know what "Maris Friends" mean. He left for the UK. In the months that followed you kept up the charade.

You were viewing wedding ideas on pininterest. You had your sights on him. You were out to hook him. You found the juicy rich sausage you were after. You had designs already. I recall a conversation we had once. You would have picked the rich guy in your group if I didnt come along. "Because he is rich." Yes. I see it now.

Over the months, you played the same modus. Play into his idea of a girlfriend. Appear religious. Bring him for a play. Deliver food to him. I know you.

Put on an act. You wore my ring on 11.11 just to fool me that you were single. But you werent. You were already introducing your relatives to him. Nice leather jacket from him. Scheming arent you?

That very day you asked me to delete the videos. You went out with him. You lied that mum was calling. Nope. It was him. Its ok. I lied too.

You brought him for Yoga. That is why Bianca raised her eyebrows at you. You would have me pay for you. But you date him. You are such a bitch. You are worse than an animal.

CNY 2018, you went out with him on CNY eve. 1 video. 2 cups. You probably fooled him with some story about only having him on instagram after your trip to Israel, when you make your relationship "official". You are such a knaving bitch. Old airport road. Receiving friends from UK. Friends finally get to meet that wonderful girl he is dating. Singapore flyer.

You date guys. You sleep with them. Then you drop and go when something better comes along. If this doesnt qualify you as a slut, I dun know what does. I think it is very clear why you are with him.

Lets not go into how many guys you slept with that I know about. I shudder to think if there are those I dont know about. I am doubting if the first time was the 2 guys you screwed in 1 night. I can no longer trust anything you said.

Irony is I probably know more about you than he even does. Lying is not beyond you. You do it so well. Your mum never knew how much of a slut you were.

Each time you get bored or some nicer thing comes along. You are gone. Forget I have loved you for so long. Your own words. You did it to Edgar. You did it to Ernest. You did it to me. Thats why you avoid all of us. Cut us off. Bitch. Its always the same modus. Sudden drop. Cut off all communication. Blame the guy. Move on to the next victim asap.

You really know how to suck up and fool people. You out on a facade for which ever guy takes your new fancy. Play the religious girl. Play the slut. You will take on any persona that gets you what you want. "Its about what I want!" You said to me. Yes. I get it.

Do you love him? I think the answer is obvious. I know his family lives in a nice house in Kovan and they have moolah. I grew up in that area, remember? Or have you conveniently forgotten. I know exactly which house.

Telegram deleted. Oh well, I downloaded what i need. I am not stupid you bitch.

Good luck. I was naive to fall for your charms. You think it was about sex. You take sex as a game. No. Emotions are tattoos, they arent orgasms. I remind myself that everything you ever said was negated by the lies you told. I am telling myself "I am never coming back." I see you for who you truly are.

I pray each day for the grace to forgive you. I dont want to go to hell because of you. I pray for mercy for you and me. Because I didnt get what I deserve and I pray you dont too.

Jar of hearts.

[wincore]

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 tongue 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, almost moaning 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 complicacies 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 that tongue of his, 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.

Jaehyun pushes into you at a steady pace, your fingers digging into his back and over his shoulder blades only to draw out sounds more pleasing to your ears. 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’s!”

“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.

[oh-for-fic-sake]

They Hung Up

Masterlist

Summary: August can always fix your problems, especially when someone is ripping off his princess.

Warnings: fluff, ddlg, daddy kink

A/n: inspired by my chat with ebay this morning. Apparantly ebay will charge buyers import and customs VAT on items that aren't even being imported into the country... or going through customs. And they don't charge this at checkout they only charge it when they take the actually money. When i told the lady thats stealing your taking more then the agreed amount from my bank she hung up on me telling me to 'speak to the tax office'

Taglist: in reblogs.

"No but you cant charge import tax on something that isn't being imported.... No they cant that's illegal look I just want my money beck for the tax-what do you mean no?!... Hello? Hello?" You could have cried you were so angry and upset. You closed locked your phone screen and sniffed shaking your head in frustration.

"Princess what's wrong?" You snapped your head to your daddy, august was scowling. You could see the aggravated look as he took in your tears. Your daddy never liked you wasting them on other people. Your sweet pure tears were only meant to be shed for him! Every droplet was his to pull from you, be it tears of rapturous pleasure or shed from being spanked for being naughty.

"August? I? they hung up on me!" You hissed quickly running over to him tucking yourself into his thick frame pressing your head into his chest trying to soak in the smell of his aftershave. The spicy scent was heady and a little overbearing, you could tell why. Under the spice was the metallic twang of blood and deep sooty smell of fired bullets. You both loved and hated it, as safe as it made you feel remembering just who and what he was if frightened you, one day he could be hurt.

"Who? Sweetpea?" He purred softly needing to calm you down before he could make heads roll. His arms encircled you squeezing you tightly and he rested his chin on your head the  began swaying with you slowly.

"The support desk! They charged import tax! And nothing was imported! Daddy I was careful and-and I checked and double checked there was no warning not on check out or nothin' then they took another ten dollars on top and now my bank is angry and charging me for going over!" You said quickly panicked that he would be mad at you for spending too much again.

"Okay pumpkin slow down... Tell daddy what's going on slowly... Don't miss anything out okay angel" he said pulling you back a little to let you catch your breath. But you quivered and opened your mouth wiping at your eyes before trying to argue.

"Yeah but!?"

"Shh shh no buts take a deep breath... Now out, good girl now start from the beginning" he coaxed slowly cooing at you as you took a few breaths and calmed, settling down n his arms feeling safe and secure, even if you were still angry.

"I got that lamp with the shelves... It was fifty four dollars and ninety nine cents" you started explaining from the beginning and waited for August to nod.

"Yes I know, I remember you showing me to see if it would fit in the corner" he spoke remembering the little pull cord box lamp and three shelves, you wanted it for the internet router and house phone to sit on so you had more room for snacks on the side table.

"Well I got it and paid but then when paypal billed me they charged sixty four dollars and ninety-nine cents... I messaged them and they said it was import tax!" You cried out getting yourself all angry again, cheeks puffing out sweetly as you huffed and growled even throwing you hands up in frustration. August made to speak but you continued your tale of the mean support desk and their money thieving ways.

"I looked it up and cos its coming for inside the state I don't have to pay! So I called and they said I had to because the shop was registered outside of the USA! But its wrong! They're wrong and when I asked for my money she hung up on me! She said I have to talk to the tax office people!" August frowned that wasn't right and he knew it. It was clear you were being taken for a fool. These bastards were at it all over the place he'd seen some of it on the news, instead of tax evasion as we know it there was a new crime. Stealing tax from buyers and classing it as profit. Because its tax most people don't question it.

"And then my bank sent me this! Saying I was over my limit and in the minus! So now they are taking twenty dollars when my next allowance goes in!"  You cried quickly pulling up an email on your phone from your bank showing a notice of charges you now had on your account.

"Its not fair I didn't do nothing wrong daddy but now I'm loosing the tax and twenty dollars of my allowance!" You yelled and began sniffling again your lip wobbling. His heart melted as he watched you try so hard not to break down and cry again. You were being his big brave girl.

"Okay pumpkin i will sort this out give me the phone" he said plucking the phone from you then turned around heading to his office.

"But you cant! Its a withheld number-" you said sniffling following him one hand fisting the back of his jacket as he strode through the pent house to the secure room.

"Oh come on sweetheart don't tell me I'm going too soft and you've forgotten just who your daddy is~" he cooed opening the door and ushering you to the small teepee in the corner that had a large iPad and a few fuzzy scatter cushions .

"Go sit and watch YouTube or something okay? Let daddy fix this mess" he said pulling your headphones from the drawer and handed them to you ushering you to the small cozy spot he had made you.

You watched as he plugged your phone into his computer and made a few quick clicks before picking up his own phone and dialled a number with a smug look the  clicked his fingers at you pointing to the headphones wanting you to pop them on and stop worrying. You pouted but slipped on the large pink headset  and pretended to loom at your screen and select a video in reality you were listening to your daddy.

"Yes you wouldn't recognize it. How? Well this is a government number, you just told a young lady to inform us about taxes?" You flicked your eyes up at him grinning hearing the professional growl to his voice the 'daddy means business' tone that made you quiver with want and fear. It never meant good things, most of the time he used this tone when you were a bad girl. You only hoped the mean woman on the phone felt bad now too.

"Why yes, yes she did a miss y/n yes that's her. I would like for you to put me through to head office" you bit your lip hearing him begin his assault. No one not even the lady on the phone and her jargon would out smart your daddy!

"Pardon me I'm sorry I'm Mr Walker...I work for the tax office in her state and have decided to open an investigation about tax fraud over the issue, we have had many complaints... oh yes she informed us of everything, she was distressed over the tax miscalculation? Which has caused her to go over drawn on her account and incurred charges" he spoke firmly and turned looking to you as you giggled watching him in his huge leather spiny chair. You gasped when he frowned and pointed a finger to your iPad clearly telling you to stop being nosey and watch your videos.

"Yes I am aware of that but the shop is registered overseas, it doesn't export from overseas... so there is no international import tax due." He continued spinning around in the chair making a few notes on the large paper pad in front of him.

"Yes that's why I'm calling I've been on your website and your policies are in fact breaking the law and infringing on the rights of consumers. Do you understand? What you have done is illegal and fraudulent and I can see it isn't the first time so I would like to speak to your head of office now- thank you" you quickly looked down as August spun once more and grunted at you pointing to the door with a scowl catching you eavesdropping again.

"Poppet either watch your videos or go and have some lunch" he said covering the mouthpiece on the phone making you pout and flick your legs at him and cross your arms stubbornly. You wanted to watch!

"Decide or I will decide for you" he said raising his brows at you but you just huffed pleading with your eyes at him to let you stay and listen.

"Right lunch it is come on up! Off you pop go make a sandwich and have some juice" he said holding out his hand for the headphones.

"But I want to see you tell them off daddy!" You huffed non to impressed at being set out of the room so quickly.

"No, now do as I've asked daddy will be out in a few minuets this wont take long" you held his gaze for a few moments before you lost your nerve then stood with a pout handing him your headphones and left the room closing the door when you were told to.

It was twenty minuets alter August came put of the office and padded to the kitchen seeing you at the breakfast bar swinging on a chair whislt munching a chocolate spread sandwich a few candy wrappers on the side and packets of chips and un touched apple. He sighed giving you the stink eye but didn't say anything. You found a loop hole he said lunch and sandwich... he hadn't specified what type of lunch and sandwich.

"All sorted poppet! Your being refunded and getting compensation which will be debited into your account in forty eight hours" he said rounding the breakfast bar snatching the apple opening the cutlery drawer fishing out a knife.

"That's quick daddy... I thought they can only do it in five days?" You asked watching as he sliced the apples and began cutting the core out for you.

"Oh princess its amazing what people can do when they think the big bad tax man is on to them~" he chuckled at your face as he placed the apple on your plate. You didn't want to eat it but you would . Quickly. Because if you left it too long itd go brown and you would whine about it, get a warning and end up having to eat it anyway.

"Will you get in trouble? you pretended to be the tax man daddy" You said cautiously lifting a small apple wedge to your mouth and nibbled it.

"Me? Of course not daddy has many different identities love, and I can use them when I want love... besides we just uncovered a company that not only evades tax but it stealing it!" He grinned. If there was one thing he liked it was justice. Everyone should pay their dues. Especially someone who rigs a system to benefit themselves.

"And.. My bank charges?" You asked still unsure if he will be mad a you for over spending...Again

"All gone, daddy will cover them princess; now just how much chocolate spread is in that sandwich?" He said leaning over your plate trying to pry apart the two slices of bread.

"Err a little" you shrugged still eating your apple whist trying to smoosh your sandwich and hide the super thick chocolatey layer.

"Mm hmm there's more chocolate then bread poppet~" he hummed unimpressed but let it slide, again you'd found your loophole, the last thing he'd do is punish you for being a smart ass. It could save your life one day.

"Sorry daddy" you said whilst pulling the plates closer to yourself protectively worried he would steal our chocolate.

"Oh don't be poppet once its gone its gone its you that will miss it not me" he chuckled and spun around crossing the kitchen to make his own lunch. You grinned happily, what had been a bad day was getting better and better! You were getting your money back, compensation,  your daddy was paying your and charges and you got to keep your chocolate spread! What more could you ask for? Well there was one more thing you could ask for.

"Daddy can I have a puppy?"

[virtualtoybox]

okay nobody asked however tho i may be cringe i am also FREE so heres the story beats for dark lady au -

-padme survived, tho is handicapped from injuries sustained during her fight with anakin on mustafar. shes in a leadership position in the rebellion, but stays disguised as a handmaiden to the queen of alderaan as a way to protect here identity from the empire. 

-luke and leia are raised basically co-parented by the organas as well as padme and sabe. luke and padme are extremely close while her relationship with leia remains strained and distant... being a mother to her daughter was harder than was to be one to her son. she saw too much of herself in leia, and it scared her, and i think it scared leia too. a ferocity and need to change the world around her but too young to do anything about it. padme wishes she had done more about it. she tries so hard to make up for hte mistakes of her past, creating a better future for her children based on the foundation she failed to build before. 

- its around 12 years old that the children are found out by vader, and leia is singled out just by being on the wrong planet at the wrong time, just because she happened to by the first he found ina vulnerable enough position. he never planned to take leia; it didnt have to be her. 

- middle middle ive been drinking and smoking, ALL NIGHT, so suck it up you dont get the intensive leia sith training meta. maybe tomorrow. 

- ....okay just a lil. so she is fairly easy to manipulate tbqh considering shes so hunger for more and better and any sort of satisfaction that can ease the burning in her gut for just a second. palpatine offers her that in the form of force training- something her mother forbade. 

- so leia very definitely like. feels like being a sith can get her where she wants to be- where palpatine is. doing better than him. 

- a new hope is different in many ways but the one i will talk at length about is Leias assassination of emperor palpatine. vader is tasked with stopping the hotshot pilot trying to destroy the death star and comes back to give his master the bad news only to find a mangled body and his daughter wuth blood on her hands. she wont tell him what exactly happened- but that she does expect a new title. 

- emperor vader and his daughter; the dark lady arfenia (the devoted) are a very intense hand in unlovable hand fucked up power duo who feed off each other in the worst most unhealthy ways - she hates him so much, knows she needs him alive for now, shaking deep in her bones to finally kill him. he loves and would die for her easily, knows its not yet his time so he  is basically a puppet leader for his extremely disturbed daughter. 

-during this time, padme takes luke to ahsoka for force training- desperate for some form of defense against her ex husband ... against her own daughter.

- leia and han end up meeting when han is taken prisoner by vader to try and lure luke ala esb, though things go quite a bit differently to the point of Han being stuck in the cells on Leias ship. she honestly just curious as to who wouldve grabbed her brothers attention to such an extent that she visits han a bit more often than she should. they only know each other for a month. theyre only together once. its enough. 

-jaina and jacen are born 9 months later. theyre both so strong in the force, leia can already sense the power rolling off her children in waves. but one of them, the boy... hes sick. no matter what she does, she cant get him to stop crying a sickly pathetic wail- something that scared her so so bad. she could only think of one person who might be able to help- her brother, a jedi. a healer in the force. 

-she leaves jacen with luke- hiding him away just close enough for her brother to sense and safe enough to wait until he did. she knows the boy will be safe there- maybe even get to know his father. 

-ive type 1k more words than discord will allow me to send about an au no one could possibly care about besides myself and im not even to the main part of the au. might write more later but for now i thnk im gonna go put myself in niche star wars au jail (timeout in the corner)

[mypimpademia]

Hi!!! I was wondering if I could request Sugawara, Bokuto, Tsukishima and Kenma with a black famous actress girlfriend?❤️❤️❤️❤️

Sugawara x black!actress!reader, Bokuto x black!actress!reader, Tsukishima x black!actress!reader, Kenma x black!actress!reader

TW: Swearing

Note: this is all post times skip

Taglist: @myhoodacademia @bnhainthewoo @iiminibattlehero @ecao @nnnoya @hawklmaoo @strawberry-ice @mixxfi @wolfkid22 @mythiccheroacademia @myfandemons @lilsparkyswife @mrs-nanami @mindofess @kqtsukisgf

SUGAWARA.

Hes soooo supportive

Koshi is gonna let you do what ever you need to do to work

Travel, using method acting at home, and he won't be up your ass if you have to kiss another actor for a role

But unfortunately, if you do have to travel, he won't be able to come often, as he still has to teach his students

He makes up for it by taking time off for premieres, but he still feels bad that he cant come even though its not his fault

Koshis favorites that you star in are ALWAYS the black story films

He knows how important they are, and he thinks its amazing that his incredible girlfriend gets to play a part in them

When he shows his students movies in class, they're probably yours

Especially if you play the lead role

He usually tells them on set stories about certain parts of the movie (but only with your permission of course)

PLEASE come and visit his students

They all adore you and your work

"You looked reallyyyyy pretty in that one scene in (insert a movie title)"

They'll ask you questions about being on set, about talking with other famous actors/actresses, etc.

If and when you win an award, Koshi will NOT miss it for the world

It'll be the proudest moment of his life and his not even him getting the award

Can and will cry if you give him a special thanks in your speech

"And of course, id like to thank my lil baby, Koshi."

Koshi just loves you so much and hes so proud to have you as his girlfriend

BOKUTO.

Just the thought of you excites him, but when thinks of the fact that you're a whole famous actress? He can't even sit still

He gushes about you to the team constantly

They'd find it annoying but Bokutos so passionate about you that they just can't

You guys really aren't apart too much, even if you have to travel

1. Because Koutaro is clingy and doesn't like leaving you and 2. Because you guys somehow end up in the same place even when you're traveling

So hes always there to support you

But he can't help but get jealous when you have to kiss your co-stars

He usually gets all pouty when it happens, and if you have to redo the shot multiple times it only progresses

Its sucks seeing Ko sad, but you end up getting lots of kisses so thats definitely a plus

Koutaro is a fucking sap, so his favorite movies you start in are usually romance ones, or sad ones

He can and will double over and cry during them

"Ko, we're only 20 minutes in, get off the damn floor!"

When you win an award he'll cry even harder

If you mention him he'll start running around and screaming like he's in a black church

"And of course I can never for get my boo, Kotaro~"

Queue the cameras trying to follow him like he on Murray while he cries

He just loves you so much and hes so proud of you that he forgets how to act

TSUKISHIMA.

This nigga SWEARS he doesn't care

But he do💖

Because he still comes to as much as your stuff as he can

That means filming, traveling, premieres, and other things

Unfortunately, the two of you are apart pretty often if you travel a lot

But the two of you manage by talking as much as you can, and if you come back for short periods of time you hang out as much as possible

Hes one of the most jealous bitches idc idc

If you kiss a co-star, hes wiping your mouth down w a wet rag, and then giving you the best kiss of your life (it literally gets better everytime)

You really be tempted to beat his ass when he tried to wipe your mouth but its all worth it

"Boy you not bouta wipe my mouth for the tenth time today, I 'ought beat yo' a-"

Then Kei wipes your mouth

"Nigga what did I just say–"

And then kisses you

You can't even be mad at that point

Kei is a fucking nerd so his favorite movies are sci-fi

You did a movie involving dinosaurs once and he swears he fell in love w you all over again

Is he ever gonna let you know that though?

Absolutely not.

When you win an award, hes gonna be so proud of you

He honestly might tear up

Will 100% shed a tear or two if you mention him

"And the biggest thanks goes to my irritating but lovable boyfriend, Kei."

Kei is kind of a bitch about it like he is about everything, but he really is proud of you

KENMA.

You were probably just starting out when you guys got together

So he doesn't think much of it because he's so use to it

Don't get me wrong, hes proud of you, but hes just so used to being around you that he hardly ever acknowledges that hes dating a famous actress

But when he does it definitely puts a smile on his face

Kozume fully supports you, he comes with you to filming, traveling, premieres, and other events

He pre-records game plays just so he can go

Kozu probably gets insecure if you have to kiss other co-stars on set

Hes just insecure about your relationships in general sometimes because its like you're this beautiful and amazing actress, and hes a gameplay youtuber

So he'll probably ask for a lil reassuring kiss after you do a scene like that

"Baby, can I have a kiss? Please?"

When you come on his livestreams, even for a second, his chay goes crazy

'OMG HI Y/N, HOWS FILMING GOING?'

His favorite movies are sci-fi and action

They remind him of video games, which means he can mix his two favorite things in the world together (you and video games, to clarify💖)

When you win an award, he won't miss it for the world

Kozume will be so proud, he might actually cry

Especially if you mention him

"I dont think I could've done this without my incredible boyfriend though."

Hes so in love with you he won't be able to function properly

[toko-writing-imagines]

Could you do Chihiro, Mikan, Kaede, Ibuki, Aoi and Chiaki comforting a sad S/O who’s love language is cuddling?

Yes yes yes! I hope this is up to your standard my yume-nonnie!! ^^

I love all the characters a lot and just cuddling- mmm cuddle cuddle cuddles :>

Chihiro, Mikan, Kaede, Ibuki, Aoi, and Chiaki comforting their sad s/o who's love language is cuddling

【Chihiro Fujisaki】

• When you are happy, he's happy

• So when you are sad, he's sad

• He is just that type of person

• But that doesn't mean he won't do his best to comfort you!

• Chihiro will stay away from his computer and let you hold onto him (he likes being the big spoon but doesn't mind being the little spoon)

• You'll softly run your fingers through his hair while you talk about your worries to him

• He'll give you soft nose kisses while you do so, wanting to do everything he can to comfort you

• If you want some kind of advice, he will do he best to give you some

• If you don't then that's okay too, he just wants to be helpful in any way he can so if just listening is what you want then he'll do just that

• Rant and vent all you want cus this boy will listen to every single word you say

【Mikan Tsumiki】

• Omg the poor nurse and her ability to read people

• Once she was able to figure out that you were sad, a part of her instantly thought it was her fault

• But this nurse was trying to get better at not quickly assuming things, or immediately think she did something wrong

• Though, she couldn't figure out why you were so sad. But she can find out later, right now its more important to be there for you

• Cuddling with her can be like paradise, as she likes to hold onto you while tracing patterns on your skin

• She'll listen to your problems and if you want she'll even give advice to try and help you

• But if you just wanna vent then thats fine too

• Mikan is always ready to listen to any of your problems and do her best to help you, just like how you are always helping her

【Kaede Akamatsu】

• This girl is always so cheerful and positive

• So once she hears you, her s/o, is sad

• Oh she acts upon her instincts to make you happy again almost immediately

• She will hold you in her arms, giving you forehead and eskimo kisses

• If you want, she'll even hum a melody for you

• Will also dump so many compliments on you, reminding how amazing you are and many other sweet nothings

• She will give you all the time in the world if that's what you need to be happy again

• Sometimes she'll just lightly tap your skin as if she's playing the piano or just to some random melody

• Don't worry if it takes a while, or more than cuddles to be happy again because Kaede has the patience of a saint when it comes to you

• She'll do anything by all means to see you happy again

• Anything to see you laugh, to hear you talk about anything and everything, to see you give her that cute smile she just adores oh so much

• Until then, however, she'll keep doing her best to make the sadness go away

【Ibuki Mioda】

• Nope nope nope nope nope!!

• Being sad while with her is a big no-no!

• Ibuki is always moving from one place to the next, whether it be her physically or just her mind

• So she'll cuddle you anywhere at anytime!

• You are lucky to have someone who's love language is basically physical touch in general

• On the couch being sad? Cuddles! In bed sad? Once again, cuddles!

• It may take her a while to settle down, but once you two are cuddling she is just showering you with affections

• Giving you many peppered kisses all aroung your face, wiping away any tears that seem to appear, talking your ear off to distract you

• Like Kaede, she'll probably just lightly tap your skin to a beat or melody that comes to mind

• And this girl won't leave until you cheer up

• Ibuki cant leave her s/o alone til she knows you are all better!

• Even just feeling a little better is still good!

• But by the time the cuddle session is over, you forgot what you were even so sad about

【Aoi Asahina】

• You? Sad?

• Nope not on her watch

• And she knows exactly how to make you feel better ^^

• This girl got everything to go since she knows you need cuddles, as she herself is a huge cuddle bug

• Snacks (mostly donuts), movies, comfy blankets, pillows, plushies, literally everything to go

• She never wants to see you sad, never ever

• She'll hold you in her arms, enclosed in the soft blankets while being surrounded by pillows and plushies

• You can vent and just tell her about what made you so sad and she'll listen to you, giving you her full attention

• The comforting heat radiating off your swimmer girlfriend feels so nice that with each passing moment you can feel yourself settle down

• You two stay like this for a long while, not that you minded of course. It was nice and you felt much better than before

【Chiaki Nanami】

• A big hugger herself, which is pretty self explanatory

• But once she sees you sad, she is even more clingy than before

• Basically she'll have you hold onto her while she holds onto you tightly that you are trapped

• The are times where she's not focused on her game, as her focus is fully on you

• She'll wipe away your tears if you cry, listen to your worries- even if she doesn't have a lot of energy

• In order to make you happy again, once you are done venting and are a little more calmer, she will teach how to play a game you haven't played yet or even just play your favorite co-op games with you

• That, or she'll just have you take a nap with her

• Either one works for the both of you

• As long as you are happy or just feel a little better than before, she calls it mission accomplished

❀•°•═══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ═══•°•❀

It's funny how this basically kinda turned into cuddling headcanons- not that I really mind either way

And it would be a dream cuddling any of these characters <3

Also had kinda hit a writers block, so it took a little while to finish this but I'm finally out and ready to write again ^^

~ Mod Toko 💜

[sloppykyuu]

Kitten tree stuff continues

After seeing kitten in the park after months of disappearance Oikawa called Issei to let him know and hes so relieved to heat that shes okay and not hurt so he starts to wander around the park trying to find her but his kitten isnt anywhere to be found he cant see her and he wonders if she left completely but kitten is hiding on a tree waiting for him to leave and when he does she goes back to the birds trying to catch dinner but Issei comes back everyday and after a while kitten started to care less and let her guard down so while shes sitting with her legs at her chest behind big bushes trying to get rid of the fish scales on her breakfast Issei finds her cos the angry mumbling gave her away and when he comes up to her she gets scared and threw the fish at him and jumps up the tree while hes looking at the small dead fish who doesnt look good at all and he looks up at her telling her to come home and he has high hopes but they all shatter when hes met with a firm no from her so he sits down looking up at her waiting for her to come back but she refuses and its already night time and shes not planning on coming down and Issei feels it and he doesn't like it he is begging her to come home he'll do whatever she wants and he regrets saying it the second her ears perk up and her eyes shine so she comes home and tells him he'll sleep on the couch forever and leaves him alone to fo to the bedroom and he watches her as she throws his pillow and blanket in the hallway and locks the door so he sleeps on the couch but at least shes back but she barely comes out only when hes gone and when he comes home she goes back to her room so on his day off he sits on the couch and his kitten is getting impatient waiting for him to leave but she doesn't hear the door so she goes out and sees him on the couch waiting for her he pats the seat next to him and when she sits he tells her how much he regrets hurting her and that he cant beat it anymore and his kitten pours out about how hurt she is and what she saw and what she felt and she doesnt know what to do cos how is it gonna go back to normal what if he gets angry again and he makes her sit on his lap presses her head on his chest where his heart is and tells her to sleep a bit and that things will be better once she wakes up (◍•ᴗ•)

There’s hope thrumming in his heart when Oikawa calls him, claiming he’s just seen you, talked to you. He says you look okay for the most part, you look skinnier and dirtier. He doesn’t wait long after the call before running out the door and heading to the park.

He doesn’t see you that day, maybe you just weren’t here today. He doesn’t let hope dwindle. He’s going to find you.

Everyday for a week, he spends hours in the park, waiting for a sign that you’re still here, that he can still bring you home. But hope is running thin, there’s no you anywhere.

Until one day, he passes by a bush and hears mumbling. So familiar. He rounds the bush to find you peeling the scales off a particularly stubborn fish, angrily murmuring.

“Kitten,” his voice is quiet because he can’t believe you’re here. He’s finally found you, after months of laying his bed alone just waiting, praying for you to return to him, berating himself for the way he treated you. He watches you pause, turning to him with wide eyes, he thinks you’re going to run into his arms when you stand up, but... you’re backing away from him.

Every step he makes closer to you, you take one away from him. “Kitten, please.” He’s desperate. You run off to a nearby tree and run up it, claws digging into the thickest branch as you hide behind it.

“Please come home. I need you.” Hope refills his chest when your head pops out from behind the branch. He can’t figure out the emotion behind them as you shake your head, “no.”

He could throw up. His stomach twists unpleasantly just like the night you left. His breath is becoming labored and tears poke at his eyes.

“Please kitten, I’m so sorry for yelling at you. I’ll do anything for you to come home please baby, I can’t live without you.” You pop your head out again, eye brows furrowed before deciding to climb down.

He moves to wrap you in his arms but you push him by the chest away from you. “I’ll come home but you’re never allowed to sleep in the bed again.” He doesn’t want to sleep on the couch, but if it brings you home he can’t do anything else but nod.

That night you take a shower and eat the meal he made you before stalking off to the bedroom and walking back out with pillows from his side of the bed and a throw blanket, tossing them onto the ground next to the couch. “Goodnight, kitten.” You don’t respond.

For the next few days the cycle repeats; he wakes up on the couch, makes breakfast for the both of, heads off to work, comes home, showers, makes dinner and sleeps on the couch. He doesn’t see you at breakfast or at dinner. But both meals are eaten by the time he gets home.

It’s not what he wants, but at least you’re home and safe.

You don’t hear the door shut like you usually do this morning. You can hear him shuffle around in the kitchen. When is he going to leave? You’re getting impatient and your stomach is growling. When the noise subsides and the house sounds empty, you walk out only to find issei on the couch as if he was waiting for you.

“Come here,” he pats the cushion next to him, slightly wincing with how far you sit from him. “I can’t even begin to explain how sorry I am, kitten. All those days you were gone hurt so bad. I really didn’t think I’d ever be happy again. I know i hurt you, and I’m so sorry. I’ve never regretting anything more in my life. I just need you back, I can’t bear doing this without you.”

He can’t tell if the look on your face is indifferent, but you open your mouth and fears the words about to come out.

“You really, really hurt me. I didn’t mean to hurt her that, she kept pushing me and then you yelled at me. You’ve never done that.” You pause and look away from him. “I came back later that night and no one seemed to care that I was gone.”

You sound so small, it breaks his heart the way you quickly wipe the tears that fall from your eyes. “Baby..” he grips your hand. Heart softening when you don’t pull away. He doesn’t explain himself further, there’s no words that could fix the scars he left on you that night; instead he pulls you into his chest, cradling your head against his chest.

“Things are going to get better, my love. I promise you, I’ll never make that mistake again. I can’t lose you.” He kisses your head and strokes your hair, there’s a heaviness in your eyelids as he pets you. “Go to sleep, I’ll be here when you wake up.”

Ever so softly, he can hear a gentle purr rumble against his chest as you drift off.

[wizkiddx]

worst case scenario part 5

finally!! so sorry its been an age to anyone still here but lives been interesting atm so....  also this really feels a bit rambley and the ending is deff underdeveloped but I just kind of wanted this done tbh x 

[previous part] [part 1] 

warnings:  hospitals - ICU, ventilation that sort of stuff, just a lot of ANGST post a difficult birth - please don't read if this could be upsetting for you, and my inbox is always open if u wanna chat :) 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In a complete 360 degree flip from earlier that day, after leaving the hospital Tom had become obsessively attached to Aurora. They’d got back to his parents place in Tom’s car; Aurora in the carseat Y/n and Tom had ready in their car door for her arrival. Clearly his parents had already pre-warned his brothers, who had thankfully already gone over to Tom and Y/n’s - collecting the Moses basket amongst other items Harry had been listed off from his mother. 

Apart from explaining a little behind her name to his parents on the journey back, Tom had spoken very little, choosing to keep himself to himself - physically stationing himself beside the Moses basket the whole time. Of course, there had been a bit of light conversation and almost procedural passing round of Aurora between all her uncles and grandparents, which Tom had kept a wether eye on - but ultimately not engaged. 

He also knew that physically his body was failing him. Although eating a little of the lasagne Sam had made for everyone, he could only stomach a minuscule amount, which did little to boost his energy levels. It felt as though sleeping was the enemy, because he was neither ready to leap into the car if the phone went; or to hear the smallest sound from the wicker basket, suggesting something was wrong. So as much as he tried to fight it, before even nine o’clock he began to dose off on the familiar couch of his parents sitting room - occasionally jerking himself awake before loosing the fight once again.

Nikki had tried to gently push him to take a break in the spare bedroom, which had been Tom’s before he’d moved out, but was unsuccessful - every time he retaliated with a stern shake of his head, while checking his phone just in case he’d missed a notification. Eventually Nikki relented, later in the evening both her and Dom retiring to bed; once Sam had agreed to stick around downstairs till a bit later - as a chef he worked till late in the nights, so even on his days off like today, his sleep schedule was just a little fucked. 

Left alone with his new little niece and now pretty firmly asleep brother, Sam draped a blanket over the latter just in time for Aurora to start fussing in the need of a bottle. His mum had explained how to do everything, how to mix the formula and heat it up, so after scooping up the little wriggling girl in the hope his brother wouldn’t get disturbed, Sam dealt with her. To be honest no matter how clueless and useless he felt, Aurora was just so cute - if a little wrinkly and alien looking, but in a good way. This was the first baby any of them had had, so the first time Sam experienced this instant connection and love for the little being that was his niece or nephew. It was terrifying, lifting the bottle against her lips for the first time, but then it just sort of seemed to work. She was incredibly smart for less than 24 hours old, instantly latching on, like she had done for Haz at the hospital. 

That gave Sam a little confidence in his ability as an uncle, giving himself a satisfied nod while swaying from the kitchen to move back into the living room. It was just a preference to be within reach of Tom… just in case. His poor brother still hadn’t moved, slumped against the corner of the sofa, leaning toward the now empty Moses basket. Normally, Sam seeing his supposed heart throb of a brother looking as rough as he did now - double chin, mouth hanging slightly open, deep sunken eyes - he would’ve taken a photo to blackmail him with. Now though, it was just desperately sad, seeing his brother like this, hand still clutching his phone tightly above the blanket. 

Rather hoping the calm would last for a while, Sam successfully finished off feeding Aurora; winded and then put her down to sleep again just in time. Because, perhaps expectedly, Tom’s phone began to blare off the default iPhone ringtone making Tom jump and throw the device across the room as he awoke with a start. Sam ran to grab it off the floor, mainly with the hope of turning it off before Aurora was awoken too - knowing that it was best tonight to tackle one thing at a time. 

And so he immediately swiped to answer the call, not even registering who the call was from, much rather just wanting the noise to stop. 

“Hello?”

“Sam? It’s Harrison” Tom had jumped up from his seat hovering beside Sam with petrified look. It took barely seconds for Tom to snatch the phone back, launching questions down the receiver. 

“Slow down would you? Y/n is fine I was just phoning to check in.”

“Oh er yeh… um sorry I just… just thought…”

“It’s the other way mate. Nurse says she’s starting to get there cos first she moved her arm a bit when we pinched her shoulder and then I just called because she started to like gag and now the ventilator thing is gone.”

“W-what?”

“I think she’s breathing by herself? Like she’s got an oxygen mask instead of the tubes down her throat.” Clearly Harrison was not, by any means, a medical expert. 

“They said she would have the ventilator for a few days at least.”

“I guess Y/n got bored? To be fair she couldn’t ever sit still.”

“I’m coming to you.”

“Tom it’s nearly midnight, I was supposed to be kicked out at 10. Just come back in the morning, they won’t let you in I’m pretty certain.”

“What if she wakes up!”

“Then they’ll call you! She’s getting better Tom you should be try and relax for like a second.”

“FUCK OFF HAZ! If she wakes up all alone and terrified then-“

“I’m not going to having a screaming match on the phone with you. I think we both know you wanting to come is more for you than for Y/n, because Y/n would want you to be looking after Aurora.”

Again guilt tripping using the newborn. Harsh but effective. Stopping Tom’s anger dead in it’s tracks.

“Look I can put the nurse on for her to tell you they won’t let you in and they’ll call if anything happens - but you already know that.”

“Yeh sorry fine … I know don’t bother.”

“Okay… I’m was gonna head back to my place and I know you’ve probably got your mum begging to fuss over Aurora but if-“

“Can you come?”

“Didn’t need to ask mate.”

And that’s how the night went. Until Harrison arrived at the Holland family home, Tom had spent the time pacing back and forth, blatantly ignoring the pleas of Sam just to sit down. Once he arrived though, going through all the updates in a lot more detail Tom seemed, for the first time, optimistic. By no means could you call him relaxed or happy - but compared to the rollercoaster that had been the last 24 hours, Harrison thought that was more than enough. Aurora had started fussing again at 1 but by the time it had turned into a full blown scream at Tom, Sam already had the bottle ready. It took a little bit of encouragement and promise that Tom would be able to feed her but actually, she instantly latched on, settled in her Dad’s hold while guzzling down the contents of the bottle. 

After a bit of winding she ended up falling asleep on her dads chest, only when he felt himself start to flag did Tom place her back in the basket. Harrison and him ended up crashing on the sofas, Sam retiring to his own room. Phone still tightly clutched in Tom’s grip.

////////////////////

The first thing Y/n became properly aware of was this intense heaviness all over her body. It felt as though her limbs were all composed completely of lead, meaning as much as she was just craving rolling over, it was as though her own body was holding her down. A very alien feeling that unsettled her slightly, trying to shake of the misty feeling in her head to work it all out. It took a while to drag herself out of the depths of sleep, to the point where background noise slowly faded in - an alien beeping as well as distant shuffling making her heart thump with unease. Finally, perhaps most distressingly , her eyes felt glued shut. Not because they were heavy, in the way someone extremely sleep deprived cant keep their eyes open; rather stiff like they hadn’t been used in so long they’d rusted over or something. 

The feeling  was quite horrific and isolating- as though she were locked into her body without an escape in sight. Whilst trying to calm her racing thoughts, Y/n chose to focus completely on the one thing she could do. She could listen. She listened to the beeps, focusing on the type of sound, the way it chimed so regularly; and it’s form. It was familiar, for that she was sure but for now at least she couldn’t place it. 

It felt like an investigation, trying with all her might to try and workout what the fuck was going on. To put it mildly. 

The most useful clue though, a breakthrough if you will, is when a voice sounded - clear and familiar. 

“Excuse me nurse?” It was Nikki. For sure. It was a clue, but didnt seem to make a hell of a lot of sense. Y/n was so focused on why the hell Nikki was apparently watching her sleep unconscious, she completely missed the reference to the nurse. As in hospital. As in Y/n was in hospital. “… I’m just going to swap out for my sons friend.”

“Harrison?” That voice seemed new and unfamiliar.

“Yes, he won’t be a second I’m sure.”

What was Harrison doing here too? 

It was all very confusing and hurt Y/n’s brain to try and unpick. Gradually then, everything sort of melted away, diving back into the darkness.

The next time Y/n woke up things were different. This time she woke up like she would at any time of day. She woke up and her eyes followed suit. Not particularly easily, since as soon as they cracked open she was almost blinded by brilliant white lights, it taking a build up of willpower before she tried it again - bracing for the pain. 

By now she knew something was wrong. She remembered all these patchy and hazy periods. All full of confusion and disorientation but with different voices keeping her at least semi calm. Familiar voices, all too often laced with such emotion. Especially Tom’s. She couldn’t remember what he had said, nor had she probably been able to understand it at the time - what stuck was the tone. The sadness, the hopelessness , the emptiness. 

It was scary. But it made her want to help. Made her want to open her eyes. 

After wincing at the dazzling white surroundings, Y/n blinked her eyes quickly, in an attempt to get them to adjust quicker. She saw an unfamiliar ceiling, one that was tiled in a similar way to her old school canteen. There was a  weird pressure round her mouth, eyes quickly darting down to see edges of a clear mask pressed up against the bridge of her nose. That wasn’t it though, the further she looked the more her eyes panned down this pale blue blanket, following the outline of her legs to the bottom raised edge of the bed. The hospital bed. 

Her hospital bed. 

As much as she wanted to jump up in panic; physically right now that was an impossibility. So instead, Y/n focused on trying to gleam as much information from the situation. It took a hell of a lot of effort, her muscles literally stiff and ridgid with disuse but with a small groan her neck eventually agreed to follow orders. Just a small tilt to the left and suddenly Y/n felt so much more less panicked. Everything was that bit less scary because there was Tom. 

Admittedly he didn’t look amazing, or even not bad. Tom was sat with his back pressed against the side of chair, so his body faced her. Had he not looked so ruined, Y/n would’ve laughed at the side of his face squashed into the back of the seat. But he did look horrific, for lack of a better word. His brown eyes were locked shut, but also looked puffy and red, while dark at the same time - as though he’d been attempting to gouge his own eyes out prior. He looked like he hadn’t slept in weeks, hence why he had appeared to have collapsed in the arm chair. At least though , he wasn’t in a hospital bed himself.

That was Y/n’s pleasure. 

Her next job was to get her neck muscles to pull her head to the other side. It was a slow wincing gesture, yet she was so aware of another presence that needed to be addressed too. But actually it was 3 people.

Right at the back, a nurse sat on a little spinny chair, scribbling something down in a file of papers but to be quite honest that wasn’t were Y/n’s focus zeroed in on. Instead on Harrison who was sat in chair mirroring Tom, except instead of being passed out asleep he was cradling a baby. Her baby. 

Y/n literally felt her heart in her throat at that point, eye widening almost comically. That was her baby - it must be? The monitors all started to loose their regularity as Y/n threw an uncoordinated limb to that side of the bed- already having realised her throat was way too scratchy to try to say anything comprehensible. 

Immediately that got the attention of both the nurse, who immediately leapt up and called for support, as well as Harrison - who looked like he was seeing a ghost. 

“Oh my-Y/n-?” Luckily he kept the baby safe in his arms rather than dropping her in shock, whilst Y/n kept her eyes locked onto the bundle in his arms. Nodding down, she tried to remove the mask (actually just very slightly knocking it to one side) and attempted to ask of the baby. Her throat, being inhumanly dry and scratchy, didn’t really work but Haz still got the message, scoffing in amazement. 

“Aurora… here’s your mummy.” Harrisons voice was quiet and wavering as he delicately held Aurora against Y/n’s collar bone, the babies little tuft of har tickingling her chin. Now Y/n was crying with happiness, looking up at Haz’s icy blue eyes and questioning her name. Harrison confirmed with another disbelieving whisper, whilst the arm that wasn’t still holding Aurora clasped Y/n’s hand with a death grip. “Tom’s choice.”

The mention of him had both of them shift their gaze across the room to Tom’s chair. Even with all the developments, Tom still seemed completely unaware, fast asleep with the side of his face squished against the back of the chair making his lips slightly askew. Y/n were acutely aware of the small congregation of doctors that had accumulated in the corner of the bay but they seemed to be respectfully waiting before they would prod and poke. Haz went to call Tom’s name, before he could though, Y/n squeezed his arm and minutely shook her head. That wasn’t what the blue eyes boy had been expecting, causing Haz to unfold and bring Aurora back up to his chest as he quirked his eyebrows at her.  

She didnt need to be filled in on the situation to know exactly what was happening. She had no idea why she was in the hospital bed; how long it had been since she’d given birth - but she knew all she needed to. From Harrisons unbelievably shocked face; and from the state of Tom - it hadn’t been good. Her fiancé looked almost ghostly, it seemed evident that he needed her. First then, she gestured to Haz for some water, which after a panicked look to the nurse; then from the nurse to various doctors; she was eventually given permission. 

After somewhat alleviating the sandpaper feeling in her throat, Y/n then croakily asked for a bit of privacy. Right now the doctors all were gawking, Harrison assumed it to be because they’d all led him and Tom to believe she wouldn’t wake up for a while- and even then she was supposed to barely be awake, not able to talk and drink or anything of the sort. With an ecstatic nod Harrison, shuffled out - while doing so prompting the medical people to draw the curtains completely shut round the bay.  

Already Y/n had tears welling up in her eyes, purely because she hated seeing him like this. He just looked so broken and shattered which honestly felt worlds worse than the labour she’d gone through. Her whole body still hurt, stiff and achy for reasons yet to be explained to Y/n. None of that mattered though, as she strained her arm out to the side in order to gently reach his knee that was folded up and sticking out awkwardly at an angle. After swallowing one again, Y/n squeezed round the joint and tried to shake it slightly. Instantly the man jumped up in his seat, heavy eyes blinking quickly and repeatedly as he tried to adjust to the room. 

Being so sleep deprived and stressed out, Tom’s brain was not working normally, instead with a delayed haze as he apparently skipped over Y/n in the bed, rather surveying the the closed curtains and Harrison’s now empty chair. As he was lifting himself to sit more normally up, uncurling from the armchair, was when he noticed the hand on his knee. Breath caught in his chest, Tom instinctively bit his lip as his eyes gradually traced up the hand, to the forearm, up to the shoulder. It felt like a fever dream, as though all it would take is for him to move and she’d slip away again. But there were her green eyes, gleaming in a way that literally lifted a weight from his shoulders. Her smile was tired and a little confused, but so her - after spending days of just seeing all her features lax, Tom swore that it was the most beautiful thing in the world.

Only when Y/n finally croaked out a small ‘hi’ did Tom gain awareness of his body, or rather control of it, enough to leap up and leave over the bed - cradling her face in both his palms. Like a psycho he stared intently, swapping his focus from her left to her right eye like a madman. 

“Your-I-I” He was trying to speak, trying to communicate all the thoughts and regrets of things he wished he’d said to her all at once. Weakly she reached up to fully remove the oxygen mask, dragging It down to below her chin, before squeezing his wrists in comfort. Only then did Tom notice the small puddle that had collected on her cheek, which made him realise he was absolutely bawling. 

“You ‘kay?” Her voice was like sandpaper but everything about her was so completely Y/n and it was just giving Tom this unreal wave of euphoria. Physically incapable of replying, the brunette just scoffed, leaning over the bed even more so he could press his forehead on hers. He was laughing too, the fact she was asking him that seemed so preposterous, given all the tubes and wires attached to her at the moment. It took Y/n squeezing his wrist harder again to make him lean back a little, searching her eyes with his. She seemed so worried; seemed so full of concern - only then did Tom consider quite how much he’d ‘let himself go’ the past couple of days. 

It had been two days since Aurora was born, only 48 hours. But the transformation was mad, none more so than mentally. 48 hours had quite literally changed everything for Tom; changed life forever and himself too. It was showing in his unshaven face, with unwashed  greasy hair, everything just looking ‘tired’.

“‘m just really glad your awake.” It was so honest and sincere it did have Y/n wondering what had happened and for how long. What had she put her fiancé through?

“How long?”

“The worst two and a half days of my life… I got you now though, yeh?” Tom whispered wetly, while stroking the side of her cheek - wiping both his and her tears away.

“Always.”

The doctors and nurses then came in, podding and poking Y/n like no tomorrow while Harrison and Tom stood back a little - excitedly grinning at each other and the sleepy girl Haz was cradling, before Tom stole her off him. There was a momentary sick-to-his-stomach feeling after some of the professionals had cleared, seeing her eyes shut again felt like everything was crashing around him. Thankfully though, one of doctors noticed the look of despair on his face, explaining to the two men that she was just asleep normally. That although sh’ed spent along time unconscious, waking from a medical coma is in itself exhausting. 

After the initial excitement of Y/n waking the next couple of days were pretty samey. She’d been moved down to a normal ward, no longer needed all the incessant bleeping machines but still had to stay in hospital. Tom found it tricky too, he just always felt he needed to be by her side ‘just in case’. In fact, it had been a source of a bit of tension between him and his fiancé - she could see how exhausted he was from looking after Aurora, plus the stress of being in the hospital for hours a day with her. As Y/n got better and more switched on to the state of him, she realised it was inevitable he’d crash at some point.

But after a week and a half in hospital - comprising of a baby, emergency surgery, 3 days on intensive care, followed by 8 on the ward - Y/n was discharged. Nikki and Dom moved in to Y/n and Tom’s place, to provide care support both for Aurora; and Y/n for the rest of her recovery; and secretly Tom for everything he’d been through. 

She was still order on bed rest due to her surgical scars, so Tom and Nikki helped to set her up in the master bedroom as soon as they got in. Of course, everyone was aware of Toms odd mood that day. Until then the only thing he wanted was to get his fiancé back at home with him but now she was over the threshold his excitement and joy appeared to have been zapped out of him. In fact, he’d barely uttered more than a couple sentences. So once Y/n was properly comfortable and Dom had brought Aurora and the cot into the room, Tom’s parents quickly made themselves scarce. 

Tom hadn’t stopped, finding some reason to rummage around in the chest of drawers m while Y/n chewed at her bottom lip, watching him. 

“Tom?” All she got in response was a light hum. “Tom please will you come and sit down for a minute?”

“I just need to-“

“Tom!” Her exclamation finally properly got Tom to listen, jumping round to face her. “Please... please will you just stop for a second?” Y/n’s eyes felt as though they were boring holes in his skull. Really, Tom knew he’d be forced into this at some point because he couldn’t avoid Y/n. She had some power of mind reading over him. So with a defeated nod and sagging shoulders Tom rounded the bed, weaving between his side and Auroras cot - where she was sleeping soundly. 

A silence overcame the room as he heavily planted himself on his side of the bed, mirroring Y/n’s posture leant against the headboard. 

“I think we need to have an honest conversation T.”

“If you want.” Nothing about his reply was the picture of enthusiasm, causing Y/n to hesitate a little. 

“Look I am so beyond grateful for everything you’ve done while I was in hospital... and it doesn’t take a genius to tell you’ve worked yourself half to death-“

“I’m fine-“

“Don’t lie to me. I know you’re trying to protect me but please... will you just talk to me? Honestly?” 

His reply this time wasn’t completely unforeseeable but it still shocked Y/n quite how quickly it happened, especially almost unprovoked. Because that’s all it took for Tom to break, for the past 2 weeks to get their vengance, for all the repressed emotion to escape. 

He was crying- well more accurately sobbing- into his hands, his back quaking. Naturally Y/n reached out to pull him into her side, suppressing the groan of pain as she moved a little too much for her abdomen to handle. “I’m here T. I got you and I’m not going anywhere m‘kay?” 

And that’s how they stayed, for at least 10 minutes, with Tom crying into her shoulder as Y/n rubbed up and down his back. Eventually though, everything did calm down and Tom repositioned himself to lean his head on her shoulder just facing forward and focusing on playing with her fingers, lacing them fingers with his. 

In all the time since she’d woken up, Y/n was yet to broach the subject of their babies name yet. She sensed it was a sensitive topic to say the least, so had thought it best to wait till they were properly alone - not in a ward of 6 strangers where the only privacy came in flimsy blue curtains. 

“So…. Aurora huh? Thought it was too airy-fairy, head-in-the-clouds for you?”  Smiling lightly, both of them were transported back to the pregnancy when they spent hours and hours bickering over names. Aurora had always been Y/n’s favourite but to Tom thought it was more a name for a hippy kid who went around clad in tie dye and bandanas. 

“Still is a bit...but I needed a bit of a miracle and Iceland was in my head. Plus I sort of accidentally word vomited while shouting at Haz, for being nice to me.” Iceland as in when Tom had proposed under the aurora borealis in the freezing sky - when Y/n had agreed, promised even, to be with him forever.

“But you like it?”

“Of course... mother always knows best after all.”

“I think it suits her too. One of your best choices to date, listening to me.” Y/n mused, earning herself a very delicate but still playful elbow in the side before the room drifted back to a much more comfortable silence. 

“We’re gonna get through this you know? Me, you and her, we’re together in this... I’m sorry I wasn’t in the beginning and I’m sorry I hurt you but now? I promise you got me and I’m not going anywhere…” Y/n needed to say it and needed Tom to properly listen. “ ...literally, I still cant walk properly.” Tom chuckled wetly at that, which made Y/n feel a lot better too. 

To be completely honest, Tom was still hurt and he knew it’d take some mending to move past everything. By no means did he blame Y/n in anyway but just the fact he was left alone and abandoned - well, it was the worst time in his life. The way Y/n understood that and had apologised to him - if completely unnecessarily- meant everything. Meant she would help him to heal... whilst he helped her too. 

“Can we just go to sleep? I need to wake up beside you in our bed not at tiny hospital one.” It was only 3 in the afternoon but because of Y/n’s medicine she was constantly drowsy and Tom? Tom was still in this permanent state of exhaustion. So it wasn’t so much of a weird request as it was on the face of it. With a nod, Y/n shuffled down on the bed a bit more resting her head against the top of Tom’s. It was exactly what they both needed, just a bit of peace with each other. 

That lasted all of 5 minutes before Aurora woke and started to scream. 

Life had most definitely changed. Especially for Tom. Because even though he was he was mentally and physically exhausted,  he only appreciated his daughters screams whole heartedly... because Y/n was there groaning with a tired smile too. They were in this together. 

~~~~

 I really hope the ending didnt disappoint too much, im aware its rushed as hell, but thank you for getting this far! And I hope maybe this series has done a teeny tiny bit to normalise not everything in pregnancy and child birth being perfect - that there is morbidity and mortality associated. Obviously this is all fictional (esp the amazingly quick recovery and lack of neurological/other impairments) and not medically accurate in the slightest !!

my inbox is always open :) t x

Tagging : @whitewolf51 

[sometipsygnostalgic]

adventure time wizard city liveblog

 well here we go

my last adventure time liveblog, i havent actually done one of these in MANY years... probably not since 2014

this takes place at the same time as obsidian?

DID-- DID CHOOSE GOOSE JUST DIE

DID BUFO JUST KILL CHOOSE GOOSE

yeah i know that’s bufo, they only made it enormously obvious, tsk tsk

@spaceacepearl​ joked about us seeing choose goose get sent to hell but i diDNT EXPECT IT TO HAPPEN

This music is i assume by one of the many musical artists Adam Muto listed on twitter, it rocks. It’s not as hardcore as Obsidian’s intro, but it’s suitably chill for the scene. 

“get offa my bus kid”

Those wizards in the left and far right groups appear to be new! 

OH MY GOD--

HELP?????? NEW PROFILE PIC TIME

HAHAHAHAH

THE MUSICAL CON DID ME GOOD, I DID REALLY LOUD AUDIBLE LAUGHTER

i bet hanna and co had fun making these signs

my favourite is the cat with “FAMILIARS HAVE RIGHTS”

cadorka..... wow

We’re not even four minutes into the ep and peppermint butler has already killed someone in front of a large group of witnesses

“this smells of DARK MAGIC” “yall kids know thats illegal right” peps watches the other kids nod before later joining in, LOL

i cant believe pep started the great gum wars and got killed by golb

SOMEONE has been playing Overwatch... 

i-- i still cant believe choose goose is fucking dead

how long was he stuck in hell for, or was that recent to together again after new death showed up 

i have to admit im not a big fan of spader, too perfect, and not in that funny way either. i hope they give him some characteristics that make him stand out. 

im getting flashbacks to OK KO and Owl House here...

Cadebra using music is a reference to Abracadaniel’s love of interpretetive dance in Play Date. 

“they only laugh because youre different” “i know” “SO STOP BEING DIFFERENT” oh my god it’s like talking to my own parents cadebra is actually... a LOT like me, less in her hyperactivity but more in her nonchalant enthusiasm and almost acceptance of the inevitable bullying because it means more time in people’s consciousness

ahhh - it’s quietly revealed here that she is responsible and a skilled magician, she is just bored of magic! i like that she parents abracadaniel instead of being downtrodden by his ramblings. 

PEP NO--- oh i see the problem, he hasn’t got his Bug Milk... sorry Martin Olsen fans, no Hunson today. At least we get one more Phil Face for the road! 

candy people in their natural habitat

Ahhh that’s Doctor Calidoneus! The voice actor was at the recent Distant Lands panel alongside Pep and Blaine’s actors. 

“pretty sure hes just trashcandy” - i like you, sassy antler lady

the mystery of how he gets clothes

and once again spader is proving to be the most irritating distant lands character of the lot, there is no subversion here. where is the subversion?  

NANI

what is going on here? are pep and peppermint the same person or not? im sure they must be, but there is something going on here with peppermint butler’s soul being trapped in the body of his child self who hasn’t got the same memories. 

OH, HYNDEN WALCH DID A NEW LINE yes this is what im here for, special over 

peppermint butler cursed himself... of course he did - Shado was correct!!!

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA WHAT THE FUCK

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA WHAT THE FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK

ROCK STUDENT, BLESSED ROCK STUDENT, WAS THAT POOR GUY WHO LOOKS LIKE A JAWBREAKER

love the reference to astral plane, of course pep cant astrally project because cursed pep is still inside of him 

wow, blaine, wow

they have a crush

LITTLE DUDE! COLE SANCHEZ!

i love the dynamic between cadebra and abracadaniel, imo so far it’s the heart of the special. im not really gripped by peppermint butler’s school troubles. i imagine someone else probably will be but i want to run past that shit as far as possible. 

TRDGFYGHJH

WE

WE MADE  A PREDICTION THAT WAS JUST LIKE THIS

PEPPERMINT BUTLER GETTING TURNED INTO THE FOUR COMPONENTS OF PEPPER MINT BUTT LURE WAS IN THE WIZARD CITY PREDICTIONS ART DRAW THAT HASNT BEEN POSTED YET

ILL SHOW YOU WHEN NICK POSTS THE VIDEO and then ill tell you who made the prediction because i... think it was nick himself, insanity 

who plagiarized finn’s signature???

turns out pep really DID take over wizard city!!!!

i love this band

i understand your pain peps

you probably have a bit too much in common with your mother, and i imagine it isn’t easy being turned into a kid and not being able to do stuff that came so easy. you’re disappointing yourself! (he’s literally disappointing himself)

I’m less than halfway through the special, what the fuck. I wasn’t wrong when I said Wizard City had a lot on its plate. It’s noit that I’ve been particularly gripped up to this point, though to be fair I didn’t pause at all during the other specials barring Obsidian. 

that... that poor kid is still a rock

and then the preview happened and bufo casually revealed to the audience that, yes, he killed choose goose

i dont know whats happening with pep but it seems he needs to be exorcised of... pep. which is a shame. i hope they learn to coexist. 

i have to say the background work in this special is really good! like, really damn good. 

WH

WHAT

DID SPADER JUST DIE

IS THIS WHY PEOPLE THINK PEPBUT KILLED HIM 

oh thats right - abracadaniel is cadebra’s uncle! this must be abracadniels sister. sorry, folks, he doesn’t fuck. 

Where are they? Is this anywhere near Wizard City? It’s an unpopulated prewar wasteland. 

THESE ARE JUST HUMANS

OF COURSE SHE WANTS TO PERFORM TO MILQUETOAST HUMANS

my child

is this an art style choice or did they get the people from that one studio to make this

HANNA FINALLY GETS TO FULFIL HER DREAM OF INSERTING KANEDA INTO ADVENTURE TIME

the red jacket he wears and his head pill shape is a big kaneda reference actually, which i suppose makes sense considering he’s a rival to our protagonist, but it’s a bit on the nose

bufo killed one of his own students? but why????

“MY UNCLE’S A COP”

“no one likes a rat”

i actually really like blaine, though im confused. did their VA change halfway through the special?

HOW NATURAL, NO WASTE, IT IS AN ENDLESS CHAIN

did doctor caledonius steal the trophy,,,? 

EVIL SNAIL EVIL SNAIL

MONMSTER HUNJTER DISCOVERY NOISE, this time it’s a tetsucabra

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

I HAVE QUESTIONS

god i wish this is what this special was about, i miss adventure time

these remind me of the comics with their art style :) i wonder who designed them? the one on the right with pb and pep, in particular, very comics-y. 

fdgfhgf because he’s like 500

“pep can be kind of a jerk but he wouldn’t kill anyone”

sorry, cadebra, i have news for you

is doctor calednoius the true villain? if bufo’s out of the picture, she MUST be, 

ANTS

oh no, he might gbe stuck in wizard city :( 

HELP

the writing on the wall...

SPADER LITERALLY FUCKING DIED OH YM JESUS CHRIST

PEPPERMINT BUTLER’S OWN CULT????

THIS IS JUST OK KO NOW

okay im not surprised all the teachers at wizard city are cultists in worship of peps, maybe they killed spader and bufo because they bullied peps T_T

wait no, they thought spader had the potential, but sadly not

HE FUCKING KILLED HIMSELF

sorry, i was distracted by the pretty dope fight sequence and now the special is over????

fucking jesse, hes probably at least partly responsible for the cult nonsense

This credits art is by Maya Petersen!!!! Holy shit it’s adorable!

LRETGFDRGTFGMHGFHFG

LEAF MAN

DO YOU THINK THEY PUT HIM IN RETROSPECTIVELY

DO YOU THINK MAYA PETERSEN DREW THIS AND ADAM PUT IT IN THE EP RETROSPECTIVELY

HE LIVES

MAYBE THIS IS WHY CHOOSE GOOSE WENT TO HELL

okay, it’s over :) 

first thoughts out of the way: not a big fan of this special. it’s like watching a completely different show. it’s not got the PZSHAHH of the normal wizard city stuff and there weren’t a lot of funny jokes or even hearty moments in the thing. 

it suffers from a lack of invested character interactions, much like BMO did. there was not a single main cast member in the whole thing! and like i said before, much of peppermint butler’s character in the show is based on his very sweet relationship to his mother, princess bubblegum, so when they showed a single (hilarious) photo of them together it made me sad we didn’t get any scenes with them together. it would have STOLEN this episode. and they teased the hunson golf photo, and death!!! and jake appeared in a photo T_T last jake appearance. 

it also suffers because Peppermint Butler is clearly not himself, imo he was way more entertaining in the Together Again special, where we seem him back to his “normal” self. 

i dont think peps being a dark wizard was something to “kill off” exactly. i wonder what was going on there? was that actually peps, or was that a spirit he cursed himself with based on himself? we at least know in the future he does become a dark wizard again, and even princess :) this special didn’t answer those questions but lol. 

THE GOOD STUFF, because yes, there was a lot of good stuff! 

God, I’m with Aracle and Maya on this - I LOVE Cadebra and her relationship to Pep. I wish she was even in more of this - I would love to watch the adventures of Cadebra and Pepbut in their first year of school, like in the end credits.

That, imo, is where the heart of the special lay - Peppermint Butler’s attempts to impress himself, versus Cadebra’s self acceptance and desire to follow her dreams of being a goofy goober, no matter what other people thought of her. 

It turned out that Cadebra is a responsible student and family member. I really liked that. Her scenes with Abracadaniel were, somehow, my favourite in the entire special! 

I like that theres a lot of cool magic towards the end of this special, and a lot of HORRIFYING DEATH. It wouldn’t be adventure time if you didn’t randomly kill off child characters. Poor Spader, I hated you but damn, what a grim fate. 

I like that Bufo and Caledonius had this crush/hatred thing going on, but they were part of the same cult in the end. 

I didn’t like the giant peps scene at the end, the monster was extremely milquetoast compared to the madness we usually get in AT. Obsidian, for example, had the awesome Larvo design. Nemesis had some INSANE dark magic!!!!  I wish they drew more from that episode. 

Considering how much Steve Little appears in this special, I do feel bad for Mace (little Peps). He said he would have really benefitted from coaching, but recieved none. He had to re-record his lines 3 times! Judging from his description of events, Wizard City was a hard time for him. 

The wizard school did remind me, heavily, of both The Owl House and OK KO. Personally I was hoping AT would offer me something more insane, but I do love both of those shows, and I know Wizard City was on a really tight schedule. 

I think they should have spent less time on the school bullying plot, and skipped straight to MURDER. 

We did have a cold opening, not on par with Together Again’s at all, but damn!

I am wondering where I would put this in the watch list? I do think it should sit after Obsidian as the third special. The intro scene makes it clear this takes place at the same time as Obsidian!!!

Well, that was it, the last ep of AT for the next few years at least T_T

i think together again was the better finale, definitely. but wizard city feels pretty detached from AT for me, despite the familiar characters it tonally isn’t like the show other than the awesome brutal death scenes. I thought the last 11 minutes was easily the best in the special! Which, honestly, is how it should be, though I do wish it gripped me more. Maybe I’m just not the target audience for Wizard City? It feels like something I would find very compelling if I was a bit younger! 

[creepytoes88]

Vinnie smut

Do not read if uncomfortable with 👇🏻

Daddy kink/hitting(ass,face,thighs)/unprotected sex /and mean names 🥰 PLEASE TELL ME YOUR THOUGHTS 👏AND SEND ME THINGS YOU WOULD LIKE TO READ ONLY ABOUT VINNIE FOR RIGHT NOW THO 🥸 anyways let’s get too it lol sorry for any typos

I could feel Vinnie’s hot breath on the back of my neck as my back was pushed against his hard chest. Vinnie’s right hand wrapped tightly around the inside of my thigh sandwiched between both of my legs. I can feel his hip bones pushing into my backside, making it so hard to breath normally. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, my mind starts to wonder to those forbidden places.

I let out a sigh the ungodly things I would let him do to me taking over my mind “GOD I need help.” I took a deep breath before I looked at the clock on Vinnie’s night stand “I can’t wake him up he has photo shoot in a couple hours” I think to myself. I close my eyes trying to fall asleep but I couldn’t stop thinking about the way his warm hands and cold rings felt against my skin and how his soft plump lips would feel trailing down my stomach. I shot my eyes open before letting out a sigh and cuddling deeper into Vinnie I turned around so my head was buried in his chest.

“I could just breathe his sweet scent all day..” I think to myself before I even realize what I was doing I rested my icy cold hand on his warm jaw rubbing his cheek. Vinnie let out gasp, eyes shooting open “Are you ok, princess?” he whisper shouts not being able to see me in the pitch black room “y-yea I’m sorry I didn’t mean to wake you up baby“ I said as I thread my fingers through his hair “No you’re not, what’s wrong sweetie please tell me.” Vinnie asks worried as he wraps his warm arms around my waist I could feel his cock against my thigh and his sweet voice caught me off guard I couldn’t help it and let out a soft moan softly tugging on his hair.

Almost immediately I felt him start to get stiff against my legs I let out a slightly louder moan at the idea of Vinnie actually fucking me right now he instantly shoved 2 of his long fingers in my mouth making me choke a little in shock. My eyes widen as I look up at him “I should have known that you were just hungry for my dick” he says as he kisses down my neck “I’m right aren’t I slut” he grunts in my face. He flips me so my back is against his chest again and pushes his massive clothed cock against my thong “covered” ass. I let out a whine letting him know I’m ready now no foreplay needed, I suck his fingers that are in my mouth he would occasionally push his fingers deeper hitting the back of my throat making me choke every now and then.

“Answer me slut“ he grunts as he takes the fingers out of my mouth to lightly smack my left cheek. I moan at the stinging sensation “Y-YES DADDY!!” "I’m s-s-sorry” I let out in gasps and stutters. Vinnie just chuckles sending shivers straight down my spine I could feel the goose bumps rising on my skin and the blush creeping on my cheeks. I’m so thankful he can’t see me in his dark ass room “tell daddy want you want Princess” he says as he caresses my bottom lip with his thumb, nibbling on my earlobe “your b-big cock daddy.” I whine out “ ah-ah-ah what are the magic words princess” Vinnie says as he sits up so he can have better access to my body.

I could practically visualize the smirk on his face just by the sound of his voice, no lights needed. I blushed again, is it worth it? I think to myself is it worth the short lived embarrassment that is just going to inflate his ego more “I’m waiting princess I still wanna get some sleep before the shoot tomorrow” Vinnie says as he starts fiddling with the hem of the tank top I’m wearing and his other hand rubs the inside of my thigh as he sits on his knees, I could feel his eyes scanning my body. Fuck I can’t do this I’m going to explode and he barely even touched me yet GOD of course its fucking worth it what am I thinking. “Pretty Please daddy will you fuck me with your big cock!!” I let out in a shout as Vinnie smacks the inside of my thigh a couple times making me let out a Loud groan, I could feel my wetness tripping down on the bed sheets even with my panties on “mmm whatever you want princess.”

Vinnie says in a sexy, raspy voice and he pulls my top over my head and rips my panties right off my body “ VINNIE THOSE WERE MY FAVORITE PAIR!!?!” I shouted still very turned on but slightly pissed “I’ll buy you a hundred pairs of underwear if you shut the fuck up and let me make you feel good.” Vinnie states with confidence “try not to wake the entire neighborhood ok” he says as he pushes his head into my neck Vinnie’s hands hold my hands and hips to the bed making it very difficult for me to move and grind against his bulge. Vinnie trails his lips slowly down nipping and sucking on random spots slowly driving me crazy I began to let out soft moans, I feel Vinnie’s lips trailing between my breast with out warning he grabs ahold of my right nipple with his teeth bitting it softly. Enough to feel good but hard enough to make me let out a loud unexpected moan Vinnie licks and sucks on my bud for awhile before repeating on my left nipple.

I was so focused on the feeling of his mouth on my nipples I didn’t even realize he moved my hands so they were above my head before I could react Vinnie pushes his middle and ring finger knuckle deep into my heat spreading his fingers as much as he could. As he thrusts them into me repeatedly at a fast pace, His thumb rubbing my clit in tiny circles as I let out moans and whimpers “are you daddy’s little slut?!” He says against my upper stomach I could feel the vibrations in my tummy “YES DADDY IM YOUR SLUT” “such a good girl for me princess, I think you deserve a treat.” Vinnie let’s go of my hands and moves so he’s head is between my legs he grabs my legs and throws them over his shoulders he immediately wraps his hands around my thighs so I can’t move.

“AH please baby I need it so bad” I say in a whiny voice Vinnie dives his head down sucking on my clit with no mercy his tongue plunging in and out of my dripping pussy I couldn’t help but scream his name it felt so good. “VINNIE! YESSS DADDY MORE PLEASE!!” I was no stranger to having sex with Vinnie but I swear everytime we have sex it’s like the first time but it only gets better and better I could feel the knot beginning to form. I run my fingers in Vinnie’s hair pulling at the roots and pushing him deeper into me I open my eyes to get a good look at him to see his beautiful hazel eyes staring right back at me. Full of lust and adornment I throw my head back in a pure fit of pleasure begging for Vinnie to just fuck me already. Before I can do or say anything I release on Vinnie’s Gorgeous face I let out I few more moans and I feel Vinnie pull away he smashes his lips into mine and I can taste my self on his lips I groan in response grabbing his strong shoulders digging my nails in to the flawless skin of his back Vinnie looks down at me “oh I’m not done yet sweetie” Vinnie slaps the inside of my thighs and the sides of my ass a couple time as I cry out in pleasure at the sweet stinging sensation that comes with it.

Vinnie pulls down his boxers revealing his massive cock Vinnie is a beautiful man there is no denying that and his cock is no different my mouth starts watering at the thought of sucking his on perfect balls( ball sucking simulator🤌😎 either you get it or you don’t lol) and him ramming his thick cock down my throat till he finally spills over. I go to grab his bulge and he slaps my hand away “not a chance I’m gonna fuck you so hard you’re not gonna be able to fucking walk straight for a month!” I moan at the thought of what he just said Vinnie pulls his boxers down and he wraps one of his large hands around my neck and the other on my boob. Vinnie rubs his tip against my clit making me whine and moan “beg for it bitch” vinnie says in a airy tone “pllllease daddy fuck me I need it now” I gasp “What was that princess I don’t think I heard you correctly ?”

“ p-p-PLEASE DADDY I NEED IT!!” I heard Vinnie chuckle before rubbing his cock between my folds “need what princess?” Vinnie ask again playing dumb “YOUR BIG COCK DADDY PLEASE I CANT-!” Vinnie pushes into me before I can finish my sentence, he pushes faster then normal making me let out a whine, he’s so big! I always have to adjust to his size I moan as he hits balls deep making me arch my back pushing my chest to his. Vinnie let’s out a soft moan as my walls tighten around his cock “ M-move Daddy!” I moan loudly my hands rushing to his unruly curly hair I tug on the roots and wrap my legs around his waist and Vinnie let’s out quite literally the hottest sound he’s ever made. “F-FUCK baby you’re soo tight!” Vinnie pants and moans as he shifts around to get him self more comfortable before almost pulling all the way out before slamming right back in to me “OH GOD VINNIE, MORE PLEASE , YOU FILL ME UP SO GOOD DADDY!!”

I shout I wanted to hear him make more of those delicious sounds the thought of Vinnie’s moans and pants making me tighten around his cock once again making him release a loud moan. I throw my head back in pure ecstasy feeling him pound in over and over again hitting spots I didn’t even know existed until I met Vinnie. I let out strings of nonsense the pleasure taking over my mind and body my eyes closed and all I could think about was how good Vinnie felt grazing my g spot every-time he pushed in and the sound of skin slapping skins, his pants and moans driving me absolutely crazy even the feeling of his balls bouncing off my ass cheeks every time he thrusted in ( I’m fucking dead lol 😭) making my mind melt. I could feel the knot in my stomach beginning to come together again and as if Vinnie knew he flips me over so my face is in the pillows and my ass is in the air. Vinnie slaps my left ass cheek I let out a whimper before pushing back on him and letting out a moan Vinnie groans and rubs my ass cheeks “count them whore” he slaps my right cheek this time “two!” Another one on my left “Three!” Vinnie then smacks both of them at the same time a couple times in a row.

I let out loud moans I know I’ll have hand prints tomorrow but it’s so worth it “you like that huh baby” he laughs and kisses my shoulder blades rubbing my ass I moan and I start to feel the knot break before I could even say anything Vinnie cut in “Don’t you fucking dare cum yet Bitch!” “PLEASE VINNIE I CAN’T HO-O-LD IT MUCH L-LONGER!” “I said fucking hold it slut!” He grunts as he grabs ahold of my hair pulls back on it so my head is facing up and smacks my face once or twice “ OH FUCK YES DADDY HIT ME AGAIN PLEASE!” “You like it when daddy hits you princess?” He asks as more of a statement then a question knowing damn well I love it “PLEASE AGAIN DADDY” Vinnie smacks me on my thigh this time significantly harder then he did on my face. I moan as my back arch’s into him as I start thrusting back towards Vinnie he starts rubbing my clit in circles again “you want me to put my babies in you beautiful” OH YES DADDY PLEASE CUM IN ME!” I let out more moans and gasps as he thrusts so hard and deep into me I can’t hold it anymore.

I let out the loudest moan I have ever made “DADDY YESSSS” it felt like a balloon popped in my stomach I was shaking from the pleasure still coursing through my veins. My nerves shot as I was basically falling asleep at this point I feel Vinnie’s hips snapping against my ass a couple more times before I feel him release inside of me I hear Vinnie let out a deep moan and a grunt “IM SORRY DADDY I COULDN’T HOLD IT ANYMORE!!” Vinnie flips me over while still inside of me. My eyes still clamped shut from pleasure and sleepyness, also partly because I don’t want to see the disappointment on his face. Oh how wrong I was “Look at me princess” Vinnie says softly pushing my hair out of my face. I open my eyes at the sound of his voice to see his beautiful face with a proud smirk displayed perfectly on his face.

Vinnies eyes then leave mine to look down where the two of us meet. I slowly trail my eyes down the same path as my lover to see just how big of a mess I made “Princess you never told me you are a squirter?!” “That’s because I never knew I could. None of my past boyfriends made me do THAT before!” I said with a giggle “well how did it feel” Vinnie asks as he pulls out watching as both mine and his cum runs out licking his lips before leaning down to clean up the mess he made “ S-So good daddy...so good” I said as I push my hips against his face and throw my head back so much for getting some more sleep I guess.

[zaptap]

ive made a few of these bingo sheets and theyre fun so i decided to make one not just for e3 but also JUST for splatoon 3 (not just for e3 but for like the whole lifetime of the game). also heres my updated list of characters id like to see in smash, ordered generally by which id like more and/or think are the most realistic

since min min got in i took out helix, and since i couldnt decide whether to add in waluigi or madeline i added another row (realistically i dont think any indies are getting in but i threw some in anyway). also i was like “oh yeah maybe theyd put in a gen viii pokemon” so i threw in hatterene since thats one of my favorites.

also as for waluigi (and shovel knight for that matter) i think it would be nice to see an assist trophy get in just to break that rule. also i remember being super surprised he wasnt in brawl (back then i thought he and wario were equally important) and even though that was based on a wrong impression ive still felt like he should be in there ever since

notes about the bingos under the cut

really is about time for those n64 games, especially now that mario is dead so theyre free to release sm64 on it. game boy games would be nice sometime too

would also make sense to include banjo-kazooie in that, nintendos had a good relationship with microsoft lately and the total absence of anything banjo-kazooie on the switch is odd since it’s a dlc character (every other one has a game on switch they can use for cross-marketing, even if joker’s took a while) and i think the best explanation for that would be that theyre holding off for the nso n64 app (this is easiest from a technical standpoint because all they have to do is make a deal to use the roms)

when are they putting octolings in mk8d

xenoblade chronicles x is one of the only wii u games left that they could port (aside from ones that wouldnt make much sense like splatoon and ssb4) so i guess that might as well happen sometime. also monolith soft might be doing something else besides helping with splatoon 3

im not ready for metroid prime 4 (im over halfway through mp2 and therefore the trilogy as a whole) but it’s been a while, they might show it and it could even come out this year

hal apparently recently hinted at a new kirby game or something

the upgraded switch is obviously going to be called the Nintendo Switch ͥ  since they already did the ds lite so theyre clearly naming everything in the family after the ds family, theres absolutely no flaw in this logic. idk if theyre showing it, but unlike 2019 they didnt say they werent showing new hardware (just that they were showing software, which could be taken as denying rumors, but they sometimes specify when certain things arent being shown)

metroid prime trilogy also might come this year. would make sense to release it before mp4 since not everyone is going to buy a wii u to get it (and at this point that doesnt get nintendo any money since they stopped making them)

where is detective pikachu 2. i hope it has the blue pikachu from that first tease they gave us in like 2014 (2013? that was a loooong time ago idk)

they said this was MOSTLY 2021 so i am absolutely getting my hopes up for splatoon 2

the two sinnoh games could likely be there

would be super cool if oddity came to switch. and almost as ironic as megalovania getting into smash

we havent seen the botw sequel for a couple years so we’re kind of due for an update on that

it’s ace attorney’s 20th anniversary this year so maybe theyre doing something. theyre already porting those games though so idk. maybe he’s getting in smash

whats with that watermelon mario render

i held off on watching a playthrough for ndrv3 on the off chance it came to switch and i could play a dangan ronpa game for real for once but it’s now been 4 years and we just passed the 10th anniversary of the series (albeit during a pandemic when i wouldnt expect them to have done anything) so it would be cool to see the series come to switch. i think if it still doesnt after this though i’ll just watch the playthrough, 4 years is long enough. amazed ive avoided spoilers this long, i still know next to nothing about the game

im about done with acnh but im still waiting on those splatoon items. and i ran out of storage in february so i need more of that too

nintendo did stuff for zelda’s 30th anniversary so i doubt theyre forgetting the 35th. maybe wwhd/tphd ports, idk

been a couple years since fire emblem, intelligent systems is probably up to something besides planning yet another paper mario spinoff

miyamoto forgot pikmin 4 in the oven 6 years ago and it got burnt to a crisp and thats why it hasnt come out yet because he had to start over

and splatoon

the inklings scared daft punk into quitting so now that theres no competition in the robot musician scene they should have a daft punk style group

i waited and waited and neither of my top two splatoon stages (flounder and d’alfonsino) came back in splatoon 2 so i hope just because splatoon 3 isnt in inkopolis doesnt mean they still wont return

would be sick as hell if there was a real hide and seek mode instead of just sticking to your own rules in private battles. havent played that since 2015 but it was super fun

show us the effects of the chaos world

i wanted mc craig to have a song in octo expansion and they didnt deliver. heres another chance

splatnet 3 baby

cant wait for nogami to do a funny 3 pose

abxy came back for splatoon 2.... am i gonna be that lucky again...?

salmon run doesnt make sense if youre friends with a smallfry but they could either change the story context (you just fight “evil” salmonids?) or replace it with an equally fun co-op mode

amiibo!!! i think i said this before but they should label them by weapons if these cephalopods dont have genders, would make more sense (the gendered ones had different weapons anyway)

returning characters!!!! would like to see everyone have a role of some kind

maybe #GearForAll wasnt successful in getting the emperor/spy/mecha gear, but perhaps theyll at least consider not making that stuff exclusive this time around

squid girl gear should be back. and they should call it a dress instead of a tunic because its a dress. and theres no gender now anyway

as ive said before... TRIPLIES!! you hold one in each hand and another in your mouth. and you can spin around like the tasmanian devil

remove splatfest tee annoyances: you should have a prompt at the end of a splatfest to pay to scrub your tee (to make sure you get the chunks) also it should be on a neutral brand so you dont end up with an overabundance of ink resistance up (or whatever else)

better online and cloud saves would certainly justify having a second splatoon game on the same console, as much as im loving that it exists

hopefully theres a global testfire again

sooner or later the workers will rise up and kill mr grizz

remember in splatoon 1 where if you had squid beatz (via the amiibo) you could “play” it in the lobby and change the music? then you were stuck listening to only bubble bath in splatoon 2? why did they take that option away they should bring it back

looking at those apartment buildings in the trailer i think it would be cool if you had your own room and could decorate it

an octavio redemption arc would be fun to see. in the manga he stole the zapfish because the octarians had an energy crisis, and in the end they worked out a deal to share the electricity