#generation after generation they dedicate themselves to giving you a nice place to rest and contemplate the world

[fishofthewoods]

its been done before so many times but i just love a traditional high fantasy setting with Magical Immortal Elves where the elves don't die when they reach a certain age, but they just.... get too weird for shorter-lived species to understand or communicate with them. I like the idea that once elves get old enough theyd just sort of sit down and stop experiencing time in a way that makes sense, and some of them would probably just become like... permanent fixtures in the landscape. Like a human visitor comes to another human village and they're all like oh yeah that ethereal being over there? thats Threamenthithlirieth. Yeah shes been contemplating the lichens on that rock for six generations. Yeah my great-grandpa told me that his great-grandma told him that back when the village was being founded she just sort of showed up. Yeah she hasnt moved since, Jorgen's parents built a roof over her like ten years ago because she kept getting rained on and we think she liked that because flowers keep blooming around her and when you go near her you can hear an angelic voice humming. Yeah its sort of odd but hey the ambient magic from having a high elf around makes our crops grow great and she seems to be fine having a village around so it all works out.

[hijadelmar]

diary 1 — my relationship with the gym

i subscribed to this gym two months ago. since then, the first weeks i went normally, but after some days i started to feel more and more lazy to go so i started to skip some days, to the point that i took a two weeks (roughly) hiatus. yesterday i really convinced myself to go, and i feel kinda proud of me for doing it. but i still need to do a lot more, to keep going and improve more aspects of my life.

the thing is, i really think i struggle with going because i feel really insecure about my body. kinda dumb, isn’t it? i’m going to a place to improve my self image, and i don’t go because i feel bad about my image. more specifically, i am really skinny, with long and thin limbs. i have this sensation of everyone watching and judging me constantly, when in reality is something that my head just made up.

now, i really wanna be a better version of myself. not for someone else, not for the rest to feel more pleased at my body or whatever, i do this for myself and only myself. it’s not only about the physical changes but about my health, cause it’s something i truly felt that i was feeling better physically, with less back pain and other stuff.

to improve i’m gonna write some tips i’d give to someone in my situation, to put into words all of my thoughs and convince more myself to follow my own tips. if someone reads this and find this helpful feel free to let me know, share your thoughts or whatever :)

what i’ll do to improve

don’t feel bad about myself. if i don’t feel good and i wanna skip a day, i’ll do it with no regrets. but only one, and i’ll go the next day. it’s ok to have a bad day, but i won’t let my thoughts to control me for more than only that day. dedicate it to do what you like or just feel bad: do whatever you need, crying, listening to your favourite sad playlists or call a friend to rant with them. but when you wake up for the next day do it with the mentality of leaving those negative thoughts in the past day. new day, new mindset. it’s something really general, not just applicable in this context, but i felt like it was a nice point to include.

be more conscious about my diet. i don’t cook for myself and i’m thankful that in my house we have a healthy diet, but there’s still left things i want like suplements to help myself with my objectives. i need to stop or reduce the amount of junk food although, cause i find myself most of the time buying candies or snacks when i go out with friends. if you’re in the same situation as me be conscious about it, buying healthier alternatives. if you want candies just get a small and rational amount, or go for other things like dried fruits.

don’t obsess over your food or feel guilty. i feel it’s important this point after the one i just talked about. i don’t wanna talk much more about it cause it would deviate to other topics, but please, take small steps and always think about this as something just for your health. bad habits take a long proccess to get rid of them, and if one day you eat junk food, don’t feel guilty about it. it’s not a crime, and this is not a competition to get skinnier or more fit. it’s just for your own good.

don’t listen or think about what the others say. if you find yourself in the same situation as me, you’ll probably have a hard time feeling watched, judged or whatever. just, don’t listen to your thoughts. they won’t bring anything positive to you. when you go running, to a gym or whatever you may do for working out, only focus in yourself. if you really think someone is being judgmental over you is their problem, not yours. that person had a starting point too, they just didn’t walk over the gym’s door with a perfect ideal fitness body. but most of the time, it’s just your thoughts. in reality no one is here to judge others but to work on themselves and minding their own business.

listen to the music that makes you feel more energized, don’t push yourself more than you should and drink water constantly. typical tips for working out, but it’s always good a little reminder.

pamper yourself once you finish. personally, i don’t like taking showers at the gym, and i luckily live really close to it so i just shower at home. but if you don’t mind it you could take a quick one at the gym to get rid of the sweat and odors, and once you get home take a nice warm shower, take your time under the water. massage yourself, use your favourite products to wash your body and take your time in front of the mirror, applying your favourite facial masks and taking care of your skin.

this is everything i could come up with at the moment. i’m not an expert over anything, it’s just what i figured out that could work for myself and my own good. just read a lot of blogs and tips over healthy habits and mix up the ones that you could apply or would work better for you, and always remind that this is for you. thank you for reading :)

[boredmezzosoprano]

I took this quiz to see which Dead By Daylight killer I am and this is what I got -

Your Result:

The Pig

Something about taking a life instills excitement in you. You know that what you do is for the better for you are shaping the world around you. Ridding it of the scum that doesn’t deserve a chance at redemption or rehabilitation. If you can even call it that. The way you see it, many people are so ungrateful to be alive. You serve as a vessel to those who abuse it and carelessly waste it away. All shall know who you are for you are a symbol of death for those who depreciate life. Realistically though, you can’t deny the fact that there is a part of you that enjoys this. Perhaps more than you care to admit. Something about taking a life in general gives you satisfaction. It fascinates you, and you serve as the judge, jury, and executioner, and all will be tested. Most will fail as many do not meet the standards you set and really, it’s too much fun anyway. Meat is meat and it serves a purpose. That purpose is dying just as it deserves to. You’re convinced that people take for granted, don’t appreciate, and simply cast aside instead of testing themselves, pushing themselves, and trying to find the meaning of true purpose. True living. Some may view this philosophy as depraved, however, that is of no matter to you. They’re in the category with the rest of the meat and simply don’t understand what it truly means to be alive. In the end, they shall all be tested, and they will all be judged or more plainly, executed. You know that deep down many, if not all, will never meet your standards. They may pass your tests or analysis, but you know better. In the end, all shall reap the consequences because you know that realistically, they’ve all got sins to atone for. To you, it’s quite possible that none will ever be truly cleansed of the filth that are their transgressions. Whatever those may be. You are the judge. The vessel for something bigger after all. Besides, you can’t deny yourself the call to kill. To do so only spins you into self-catastrophe as you know there’s something much more powerful that stirs inside the pit of your stomach. It’s a dark hunger. A hunger to kill. To put a life to the test even though you know that they’ll fail because none are worthy. So, you must put them down. Redemption is a fool’s errand. You serve a greater purpose. Chances, passes, restitution… that era is long gone. Time to evolve into a more mature perspective. Time to kill. Not only is it more gratifying as it is the only way to purge the sickness that resides in every being, but it serves a greater purpose as well. You dawn a mask as it serves as the symbol for what you stand for. It defines you and what you do. Who you are. You want to leave your mark. You want to be known. And known you shall be. Small blades are best for execution as they are well hidden and are not noticed until it’s too late. Aside from easy carry they also do the job and do it nicely. That’s what counts and where it matters. However, one can’t overlook the usefulness of traps and other contraptions. They too have their place. You are a mastermind when it comes to traps, and they are what help ensure success. Plus, though you know that none are worthy, why not test them anyway? Additionally, if ever one of your subjects comes close to escape traps got you covered. You’re most likely to reside in an abandoned building as it is the perfect place for organizing your “tests” or orchestrating your kills. You’re able to store your tools, outfits, weapons, and other additional equipment effectively as well as being able to hide in the corners and crevasses of the map. You can have rooms dedicated to your kills, any projects you may revel yourself in, or just for storage. Cleanup is hit or miss with you. It’s unlikely you’ll bother unless absolutely necessary. Stealth is where you shine. You’re practically undetectable as you’re only seen after you make your move. You stick to the shadows, prowling like a beast in the night. What your victims think will help them actually helps you and puts them at a disadvantage. You may consider an apprentice to take on as you can tea

[i-need-air]

"Dude" — Bakugou Katsuki x Reader.

Summary: Your former bully, Midori, has confessed her undying love for one of the most famous guys at U.A.; you're just venting gossiping about it with Mei, not knowing Bakugou Katsuki is right around the corner, listening;

Warnings: None. Well, Bakugou Katsuki having various anger induced strokes > the normal > no warnings; light crackfic? subtle ending;

Word count: 4.5k;

[ Part 2 ];

"She confessed to him." You grinned, throwing a bunch of fries into your mouth like the absolute animal you were.

Mei on the other hand continued her work on whatever in the world her new prototype, or "baby", was. Still, you had the honor of having half of her attention, which was a compliment to say at least.

She just smiled, shaking her head, leading you to continue, not knowing a blond was quite literally behind the corner, just outside the door leading to the support department, frown on his face.

"She came to class giggling like an idiot saying she's got a plan." You made a face into the distance, remembering your classmate's obnoxious squeal. "Ugh, she started telling the Divas how she's gonna have The Bakugou Katsuki in the bag." An ugly snort left your body, which earned an amused chuckle from Mei.

Both of you were pretty well known to be very good friends, and as much as you hated to admit it, you were both quite the social pariahs too. She was a little bit strange or weird, as some called her, but not for a single second she cared, which was the reason you admired the girl so much in the first place. Meanwhile you've taken the role of the bitch of the whole school by far. Sadly, you were placed in the same class as your archenemy, only increasing your chances of being called said endearing term.

Middle-school was a nightmare to say at least, getting bullied for your looks, the way you spoke or dressed, anything really as long as you were the one being mocked. And who was the one doing the bullying? Midori. Stunning, graceful, baby-faced Midori. Petite yet elegant, a devil in disguise. Whoever crossed her path suffered her malice unless she had something to gain from them.

And now, sweet Midori was in the U.A.'s General Studies, coinciding with you in the majority but not all classes. It had to do with the tragedy that your quirk was so rare that the principal Nezu had to adjust a new schedule just for you. Just kidding, it was amazing. The actual tragedy was seeing her face every day.

Back to your heartbreaking backstory and origin; time made you tough, comments made you build a wall so tall and thick nobody could crumble it. Backstab after backstab made you learn that not everyone has good intentions, but in your loneliness you found Hatsume Mei. So honest and dedicated, so raw and passionate. A good person. The type of person your parents promised you'd someway cross paths with and gain such a strong friendship that nothing could tear it apart.

Becoming friends with her was easy, kinda. It took snapping back at Midori when she started her normal bullying routine on Mei, which ignored it without a care. You stepped in and the rest is history. It did feel good though, calling her a pathetic bitch before turning to the stranger with a cool gadget in her hands to compliment it. And, since she's a sucker for her babies, you had to deal with an hour of sparkly eyes and monologues about her plans and prototypes.

Funny girl, Mei. You remember thinking but the following day you passed by her usual spot to fill your curiosity, asking if she did solve the problem she was complaining about.

"He was the one she was planning to ask out?" She screamed at you, head inside a giant metal gauntlet and the reason you two started talking about said man in particular. News were extra-fresh anyway.

"Oh, yeah!" You shook your head, ashamed to exist in the same general proximity as a person like your former bully. "He's gonna be so rich and famous!" A high pitched squeal left your mouth as you tried to copy her voice. "Poor fucking guy, if only he knew."

"But people know she's a bitch!" She screamed again, repairing or adjusting something with almost all of her body inside the gauntlet. A smile, genuine and soft this time, formed on your face. The pink-haired girl wasn't one to talk bad about others or even care, but it was clear she wasn't particularly fond with Midori either, although the conversation was more for you to vent rather than gossip. Sure it was.

"Like the people from the Hero Department even care about us, the commoners." With a roll of the eyes, you followed. "If he's smart, he'll run away. If he's an asshole, he could use her too."

"What do you mean?" Pink flocks of hair suddently submerged from the gadget, eyes curious zooming on you. That probably got more than 50% of her attention and it was a new personal goal while she was at the workshop.

With shrugged shoulders, your answer came nonchalant. "He could date her and dump her like she's nothing. Would serve her right for all the shit she's talking about him." But the only response you got was a short quizzical look, followed by your exagerated sigh. "She's talking shit about him constantly, but then says he's hot and that his personality doesn't matter anyway. Money, fame, looks. She has a whole fucking life-plan! Then calls him a rabid dog!"

"Woah—" that surprised her.

"Woah indeed! Insane. It's insane. I don't know the guy but no one deserves that shit." When you got no response, you continued your speech, munching in the food with passionate hunger, words coming out almost indistinguishable. "Doubt he'd play her though. He looks like a smart guy. I've seen the Sports Festival—" you picked up your burger, giving it heart eyes. "—and I've seen the news. He's probably a good guy too, the issue is people don't see that and... Well, I understand what's it to be judged... Not many have what it takes to be a real hero but he does. Hope he finds happiness in life." Much talk for someone that doesn't know shit about the guy in particular, but even so faint, your gut instinct was trained well enough to spot malice and he lacked that. "And a therapist." And there's the little shit in you that had to drop a cheeky comment.

Mei's gaze turned downwards and even if you could see her brain do mental gymnastics to solve whatever problem she had in front of her super-eyes, she also contemplated your words with great care.

"He comes here from time to time—" she grins, smacking the grenade looking gauntlet with her weird utensil. "I noticed you two are similar." Your face twisted, eyes wide towards the girl.

Similar how? He was loud, bold with a foul mouth, definitely needed a therapist for those unresolved anger issues... But he was also bright as in whenever he went, people looked in his direction, like he shined; obviously strong, also from what you've heard smart, popular, lucky to be surrounded by kind people. Example being that very nice pink girl that had a joyous conversation with you the very first day of school and, much to your surprise, continued greeting and having sweet small talks with you every single time you saw each other. Or the blond haired guy that showed off a little bit too much and made dumb flirty comments with no bad intentions, the same blond that waved at you with enthusiasm when you'd cross paths. There was the red-head, Kirishima, that was an absolute gentleman, opening doors for you even if you had two functioning hands and smiled so bright it made your corneas burn, or also the dark haired guy, Sero, that you've seen helping literally anyone in need around the school campus with an easy going attitude and gentle grins. Bakugou Katsuki was surrounded by good people, good heroes just as amazing as him and if they liked him, he must've definitely had some good in him, right? Another point appeared in your mental presentation about the brash hero in the making was that he was way too attractive but the wise burried deep inside of you made that particular point dissappear. No need to think about that. Overall you weren't even remotely similar. Not even close. Two completely different human beings from two completely different worlds that would never collide. With that being said, there was the small chance that Mei hinted for you to get a therapist too, who knows.

"How even—"

"I mean!" She screwed something in place. "I mean in your— determination?"

"I wouldn't know that." You muttered.

"He screams I'm gonna be the best every time he's here—"

"Cute..." You vomit that endearment without thinking, but thankfully it got ignored.

"—and it always reminds me of you." A small chuckle left your mouth.

"Don't make fun of me."

"You say it too~"

"I just heal, Mei, it's not the same." Principal Nezu's speech, the speech he gave your parents months into the first year as they found themselves aware of your power made you hold your words. You had it in you. The potential. If incredible people like your teachers, like Shuzenji Chiyo or Principal Nezu twisted things around for your quirk, for how rare and powerful it is, you'd accept it.

"But you're gonna be the best healer ever, aren't you?" She taunted.

"Of course. Which reminds me—!"

"Hmm?" Her attention faded away slightly, but it wasn't a problem.

She cheered, both at you and at her finished masterpiece and proceeded to eat too, passing through the lunch hour without interruption.

"Recovery Girl is putting me on active duty at the infirmary from now on. Finally!"

Innocent pale purple eyes stared into deep crimson ones, furrowed brows covering them.

—

Bakugou Katsuki wasn't one to enjoy being annoyed or surprised and this extra managed to make him feel both things in a short notice.

Everyone around him froze in fear or wonder, awaiting his response without breathing or moving an inch. Meanwhile Whoever-she-was held a pink envelope in front of him, a perfume too sweet coming from it making him want to literally gag in the spot.

Another thing the boy did not appreciate was to have someone bullshit him. His senses were telling him to back off, alarms ringing in his head and those purple eyes held hidden intentions; he wasn't having any of it.

"Fuck off." He snapped, yet his stance was casual as he refused to move out of her way since she was the one that had the audacity to run into him.

Some gasps, even coming from his so-called idiotic friends, could be heard and an indignant Bakubro behind him as he got slapped in the shoulder but he did not care. Not until her lips started to tremble as she retreated her confession letter towards her chest dramatically. His eyebrow started to twitch at the sight.

It was a spectacle for anyone surrounding him.

"What's going on?" Shushes and whispers.

"Bakugou Katsuki just got a confession!" Gossip.

"What!? Who?!" Confusion.

"You said Bakugou Katsuki?!" Shock.

"Oh, she's pretty!" Awe.

"He told her to Fuck off! What an asshole!" Outrage.

"Is that Midori?" Surprise.

"The nerve—" Anger.

"Midori from—" Disbelief.

"Oh, my God, she's really doing it~!" Giggles.

He frowned deeper. If people were to talk about him, they should be talking about all the crap he's been doing and all the lives he saved, not because of a fake bimbo decided to cross his path.

Bakugou wasn't stupid either. With time he knew these things would eventually come in his direction, stuff he'd have to deal with in the future as fame would take over, but not now. He did not have time to entertain this show anyway.

There was only one destination in his mind and she was keeping him in the middle of the whole school cafeteria with prying eyes on them both.

"Bakugou, do something, she's about to cry!" Dunce Face harshly whispered, but turned towards the white haired girl that looked devastated in front of them. "Ignore him! Ask me out, I would never make you cry!"

He rolled his eyes so back in his head it almost hurt. With a need to hurl the food he just ate, he made a step to leave the scene but small hands with claw-like fingernails gripped his arm and he looked at her in utter disgust.

"No, I would never! He—" she sniffled but had no tears in her eyes. He gave her a scowl, trying to take his arm out of her grip but she scratched him in place with her tiny rat hands. "You're the one I love! I—" her bangs covered her face as she continued her show.

"Bakugou! Dude! Do something!" Shitty Hair said, his dumb and blind trust in people buying the act. A vein almost popped on Bakugou's forehead.

"I fucking said—" he pulled his arm so hard she fell on her knees by his side. "Fuck. Off."

Another set of gasps filled the room.

"Bakugou!"

One thing he did not want, even if he could tell it was a foul theater, was to hurt somebody. His asshole act ended at that but his pride stopped him from saying anything.

Glancing to see if she's hurt, Pink Idiot was by her side, helping her up and asking way too many fucking questions.

"No, I'm fine..." she said with such a meek voice he scoffed, also hearing all the shit everyone around him was talking.

"He's such a brute."

"What a mean guy—"

"She's crying!"

"Fucking asshole."

He gritted his teeth.

After the disaster with the League of Villains in the first year, people started to respect him for who he was yet one single, minuscule shit like this and they were all at his jugular.

"I took Bakugou-san by surprise." She excused his behavior to Ashido, which then suggested they should eat lunch together sometimes to make up for the trouble after apologizing in his behalf.

"Yeah, we'd love to have you around! Isn't that right, Bakugou?" The apologetic and almost pleading voice of his blond friend, if he ever was going to call him that anymore, just made him bare his teeth. If they wanted to get played like fools it was their problem, not his.

And that's how he found himself eavesdropping on the weirdo and an extra.

And with a single "Whatever." he left the cafeteria, going to check if his gauntlets were ready, annoyance oozing off him, making the sea of people part from his path. Except he didn't notice you rushing away a little bit in front of him, holding a bag of food, all amused.

Why the fuck was everyone talking about him? Can't they fucking keep his pretty name outta their mouths? With time and without finding a reason why the hell he was glued in place, he listened attentively, his suspicions confirmed and his ego hurt, but whoever was talking about him calmed his nerves a lot. He just needed to put a face to that voice. Just to see who's gossiping about him, nothing else.

—

With a full belly and a whole afternoon to study by Recovery Girl's side, you marched towards the infirmary after you bid your farewell to Mei. There was still time to walk around, grab something sweet for later and save any poor soul that Midori decided to sink her teeth in. It was common at this point, you getting in between her and her victims and taking the hit, yet somehow also being called a bitch by everyone. That's how high-school worked. She did have friends and they spread any word she spat. Vultures.

It was fine though. Hero [Y/N] is there to save the day no matter what. You scoffed at your own stupidity, turning the corner just to step on a leg that was sprawled on the floor.

He clicked his tongue, getting up with no worry in the world, but made no action to leave, settling for observing and analyzing you way too intensely.

"Watch where the fuck you're going, idiot." The man of the hour, the guy you've defended in front of your friend just screamed at you as he dusted off the imprint of your shoe left on his pants. Meanwhile you just paled in place before regaining your composture.

"Why are you sitting on the floor?" You said, tilting your head with a frown, already knowing you will not apologize.

Unimpressed by what was going on, even if you truly couldn't point out what really was going on, you made an attempt to move past him towards the vending machines not far behind, but he caught your arm in a firm grip.

You blinked stupidly at the skin contact.

"Heard you were talkin' shit."

Your stomach dropped. Legs almost gave up too if it weren't for his iron grip holding you still. In the silence and at the satisfaction of the reaction you let out, he smirked and raised his chin, only Mei's singing voice coming from her workshop could be heard. Realization hit you. Hit you? Bitchslapped you in the face and left a mark for sure, because your cheeks started feeling heated, tingly.

He dragged you away, maybe to have the privacy to murder you in peace, but your common sense kicked in and you came back from the land of the mortified.

Much like he did before, action you saw with your two own eyes and repeated, you pulled out of his strong grip and stared as he turned towards you, mouth already opened to probably eat you alive.

"I wasn't talking shit about you, dude." You quickly spoke first.

"You don't fucking know me." He growled back, taking a step towards you but like hell you'd back down.

"Don't need to be besties to say what I said." Without understanding why he was so agitated, the only thing left to do after this beautiful turn of events was to defend the honor remaining in you, so you raised your chin to be at par with him. The action clearly took him by surprise, making him glare more, if even possible.

"I don't fucking appreciate when extras talk about me behind my back!"

"I don't give a shit what you appreciate, dude." Your laugh was the complete opposite of his menacing loud voice, like ying and yang.

"Bakugou, the name's fucking Bakugou, you extra!" Bakugou recovered quickly at your snappy self, getting more bothered as you talked.

"Okay, dude." His hands fisted, shaking in place as he stared you down but did not continue.

Silence; the hallway was now filled with silence as he boiled in his own anger and as you raised your brows in confusion. Now what? Was it time to leave? You've never met anyone like him, this was peculiar—

"NOW IT'S WHEN YOU FUCKING TELL ME YOUR SHITTY NAME, YOU FUCKING DUMBASS!"

A second passes; two; at the third you're wheezing your lungs out, laughing at the ridiculousness of the scenario.

"What the fuck are you LAUGHING AT?!" His voice got louder just to top your howling. You did not expect that.

Through a sigh, regaining your breath, you say "It's [L/N] [Y/N].", seeing him retreat in his form and cross his arms. He was still seizing you up.

"If you have shit to say to me, say it to my fucking face, understood?"

"I—... Say what now?"

"I—." He copied in a mock, getting an incredulous look from you. "You stupid or what?" Your upper lip lifted, ready to cuss him to infinity and beyond but he continued. "Like about that bitch from before and shit—" even if he still was loud, he placed his hands in his pockets and looked more interested in the way the tiles on the wall were placed instead of your person. "An' like you told the weirdo—"

No time to be shocked at the implied; his last word enraged you, making your body shake with rage. "Don't fucking dare to call her a weirdo ever again."

Like a challenge, he snapped his face back at you, ready to take it.

"Or what?"

"Listen here, fucker—" now that was a nice surprised face he was pulling. "Just because I gave you a pat on the back in there doesn't mean you can disrespect people just because you think you're the shit. You're not. Now get out of my fucking way." With a final push to his shoulder, your mind was focused on going to the infirmary, steam almost coming out of your nostrils.

"Hey, extra!"

Ignore him, ignore him, ignore him. went through your mind, marching away without a glance back. Not until—

"[L/N]! You're a healer, hah?" That's interesting. He stood where you left him, watching.

"What's it to you?"

Someone sane would've left at your tone but this guy walked towards you then showed you his arms, recently scratched. Images came back to you about the cafeteria incident but did not underst—... did he want to get healed?

You scoffed.

"They're scratches, dude."

"They annoy me. Now heal." All the energy you had left in your body was channeled towards the slow blink you threw at him, at which he scoffed. But they did look nasty— and Midori did them. It was a curse by itself to look down at your own arms and remember that face, so the guardian angel in you decided to take control and be the better person.

Gentle fingers barely tapped his muscular arm. Smile crept up on your lips, feeling absolutely delighted at his obvious stiffness at the skin contact and the clear interest in his eyes, specially when the scratches started disappearing into nothing, leaving smooth silk skin under.

"Hey— Wha— Where the fuck do you think you're going?!" raspy voice got lost in the distance and one thought in your head.

"Want a lollipop for being a good patient too?" You mock and his face explodes in all shapes of red. It would've been great to mock him more, enthralled by his reactions, but with that you turned and left, ignoring the tingling under your fingers that should not be there and your stomping heart.

Did he wait all the lunchbreak to talk to you?

—

A long queue was ahead of you, earning the longest sigh out of your lungs. Life was pain sometimes. Mei couldn't hang out, food was too far away, the delicious croissants Lunch Rush made ran out as far as you could see. Pain. Just pure pain.

And disappointment. When you walked away with your food in a bag, maybe to sit under a tree and enjoy some peace and quiet, you saw her. Midori sitting at a table you did not expect. At the same table where Ashido Mina, Denki Kaminari, Kirishima Eijirou and Hanta Sero sat at. Good people. Honest, good people about to get bitten by a snake. If she was there, then Bakugou decided—

"You. Sit."

Thinking about the boy somehow summoned him behind you. Food in hand and bored expression on his face, he passed you not without giving you a stink eye. Indeed, disappointment.

You shrugged, trying not to pay much attention to the pang in your heart as you moved forward, but a voice— his voice stopped you in your tracks.

"You. Get the fuck out of my face." His growl made everyone around him turn to watch, you being one of them. There was no excuse to what came next, no way to run away past it and dissappear. He nodded his head at you out of all people and pointed at the seat still occupied by Midori; her purple eyes big, shocked, running between your frame and the blond's.

Do you know what it felt to be put in the spotlight without warning? Well, congratulations because that was your life now.

"Ba—Bakugou-san?" Her voice, now highed up and meek followed, then a small scream as Bakugou slammed his food on the table. His friends sat there, wide-eyed, but made no attempt to interrupt.

"Did I fucking stutter, bitch? Or want me to turn into a rabid dog for fucking real?"

You choked on your own spit, bag of goodies about to drop on the floor once you saw her horrified face. She knew that he knew. And when her pale eyes, filled with sudden malice, act dropped, turned to you it's when you realized she figured out where he found out from.

Not like you cared, really, but the little shit that always had to poke out every time she was in the same room as you decided to finally show up, making you wave and send her a wink.

"I said MOVE!" now— that growl, raspy and filled with anger startled her. The orange juice in her hands spilled all over her uniform and woke her up from whatever delusion she was in. With zero time to reconsider, every belonging of hers was picked up with trembling hands and she ran away to her group of cockroaches.

A smile was already settled on your face; your brain was storing that whole interaction deep within, ready to bring it back up whenever you needed a good laugh.

Life was pain and disappointment, you say? No. Life was great. Or more importantly, Bakugou was. Not like he needed to know. But he was a decent guy as he proved—

"THE FUCK YOU STANDING THERE LIKE A DUMBASS?! I SAID SIT!" —to be a pain in the fucking ass and the bane of your existence.

You gave him a face then turned to walk away, even rushing more when you heard his chair screeching on the floor. The exit was so close, so near, freedom never felt this great, the sunlight kissing your skin giving you a new hope to live. But not for long because he grabbed your hand and started dragging you towards his table.

Your hand was in his hand and he was dragging you—

Your hand— his big, warm, a little bit sweaty hand—

How could you ruin such a beautiful moment? Eyes on you two, shocked, silence, his adorable red ears being the only thing you could see as he was completely in front of you, still dragging you towards his friends...

"Did you wait all lunchbreak yesterday to talk to me?" You collided into him as you finished the sentence, his way taller form stiffened so much you felt you single-handedly broke Bakugou Katsuki for good.

But when he turned... Oh, when he turned. Biggest deer-caught-in-the-headlights eyes you've ever seen on anyone, cheeks painted so red you almost melted in the spot, lips trembling as his head worked a thousand miles per second just to find a retort. And you prepared yourself for—

"NO, I FUCKING DIDN'T! WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT, YOU FUCKING EXTRA? I'D NEVER WAIT FOR SOMEONE LIKE YO— ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING TO ME!" Mina's waving hand caught your attention and smiled at her. Your hand was still in his, gripped harshly as he still hasn't noticed it's still there.

"Hey! [L/N], long time no see!" She cheered, ignoring the living shit out of her screaming friend, like she's used to it.

"FUCKING LOOK AT ME WHEN I TALK TO YOU—"

"Hey, chill, dude. Now let go of my hand, I wanna talk to Ashido." You smiled sweetly, making extra effort to wave your linked hands arond until he finally noticed. He zapped his hand away so fast, like he's been bitten by a wild animal. Maybe even a rabid dog, if you will.

You couldn't ignore your own flustered state as you walked past him, giving him a one up, adding the absolute scandalized face he had into the back of your mind for safekeeping.

"Come sit with us!" The pinkette offered.

"Oh, hey, I know you! You're by Hatsume's workshop all the time!" Kirishima intervened with a surprised face that broke into a grin. "Nice to officially meet—"

"I fucking said." he appeared, sitting in front of you. "My name's Bakugou."

"Ok, dude, but I'm talking to someon—"

"BAKUGOU KATSUKI!" Could be heard from the stratosphere.

Note: I just realized Midori means Green [ fucking duh ] but I'm not gonna change the name or her description. I think her parents fucking up her name was the start of many accidents leading into the Midori we all know and hate. Also, I know you understand. We all know a Midori in our lives. Much love.

Note 2: I keep editing it but tumblr dot com slash Install App on Phone fucks my editing and switches paragraphs all around! If you find any PLEASE tell me, I'd really appreciate it!!!

[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.

[realcube]

trying to be nice to their crush hcs

navi | masterlist | taglist

thank you to 🍦anon for this cute request!

characters: tsukishima, kyōtani, sakusa & suna

content warning: swearing & sexual references 

kei tsukishima 

♡ this is all yamaguchi’s fault （︶^︶）

♡ he found out tsukki had a crush on you bc he mentioned you a lot in conversation so yamaguchi interrogated him for answers then lo and behold, the beanpole had a lil thing for you 

♡ you sit in front of tsukishima in homeroom while yamaguchi sits beside him so when you leaned back and asked him if you could borrow a pencil and he spat back a snarky remark about you being too irresponsible to care for your own pencils, yamaguchi hastily offered you one of his own before scolding tsukishima 

♡ he explained to his clueless friend that being nasty to people isn’t a good way to get them to like you 

♡ so perhaps he should be nicer :)

♡ honestly, tsukishima would’ve just looked yamaguchi straight in the eyes and went ‘no’, if it wasn’t for the fact you shot tadashi the sweetest smile anD PLAYFULLY BLEW HIM A KISS AFTER HE JUST GAVE YOU A DAMN PENCIL LIKE WTF 

♡ after that, he decided to give up his current personality and pick up a new one 

♡ jk jk 

♡ but he had to binge a whole bunch of those youtube psychology videos that are like ‘psychological tricks to make people like you’ and ‘THESE 5 MIND TRICKS WILL MAKE YOU THE MOST POPULAR PERSON *EVER*’!!

♡ spoiler alert: he wasn’t the most popular person but perhaps that was bc he only went to the effort of using those tricks on you 

♡ god bless him; he tries hard, he really does. (not his best, just hard)

♡ but you don’t have to be extremely observant to realise that he’s began acting different around you and of course, it confused you seeing tsukishima being nice

♡ what irritated you was how dismissive he was being of your questions though, as he was clearly trying to lead you to believe that you were crazy and he’s just always been a nice guy 

♡ but as soon as he figures out that he angered you, he’ll instantly switch back to him normal self - draining his mind of the hours of phycology studying he did last night to just pretend like it never happened 

♡ and if he’s feeling flirty, he might be extra mean to you （￣︶￣）

♡ also he makes a mental note to never take yamaguchi’s romance advice ever again 🙄

♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥

you sighed, removing your hand from your bag after desperately rummaging through it in search of a pencil once again - deja vu. once you accepted that a pencil wasn’t going to materialise out of thin air, you peered over your shoulder and tapped the corner of yamaguchi’s desk, who wore a suspicious grin which you decided against questioning. 

“yamaguchi, do you think i could borrow a pencil again? sorry, this is the last time, i swear. i’ll be sure to get some on my way home after school tod--” 

yamaguchi dropped the line him and tsukishima had rehearsed many times beforehand, while clutching his pencilcase dear to his chest, “woah, (y/n). you’re so irresponsible. sorry, i can’t lend one of my pristine pencils to someone who is too forgetful to remember to buy some; what if you forget to return it to me?” 

tsukishima cringed at how forced it sounded but he couldn’t help but admire yamaguchi's dedication to his role. this allowed tsukishima to swoop in, pencil in hand, “here.” that wasn’t in the script but he panicked! okay, now, eye contact. 

you just sat there and stared at both of them with the most dumbfounded look plastered on your face. what just happened?  why were they both acting like they were in drama class?  and why are they both so bad at acting? they’re both passing performing arts for fucks’ sake!

kentarō kyōtani 

♡ sorry but i firmly believe kyōtani is the sorta guy to be extra mean to ppl he fancies smh

♡ the rest of them just act (somewhat) like themselves around their crush but kyōtani is himself2 (himself^2)

♡ like one time yahaba found you trembling in your locker bc you had gotten mud on mad dog’s white shoes so he chased you through the hallways of the school, threatening to trek mud on your forehead 

♡ yahaba took it upon himself to investigate as to why kyōtani was so rude to you and he got his answer as soon as he mentioned your name to mad dog and the boy’s face immediately flushed red 

♡ so after practise, yahaba schools mad dog on how to get chicks (⌐■_■)

♡ in short, his advice was ‘good guys get laid’ and for kyōtani’s understanding, ‘good’ and ‘kind’ were interchangeable 

♡ mad dog wasn’t completely oblivious to how he treated you and he was aware that he was far from ‘kind’

♡ although he usually doesn’t listen to people in general, yahaba seemed to know what he was talking about so he figured there was no harm in trying to be nice 

♡ but ngl, he just spent the rest of the day wondering...what is kind?

♡ after a few messages back and forth with yahaba, he figured that the best place to start was by apologising for - y’know - chasing you around the whole school 

♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥

“oi!” kyōtani bellowed through hallway, paying no mind to the students that cast him dirty looks as his sights were locked on you. standing unsuspecting by your locker, stuffing your textbooks into your bag until you heard his deep voice echo through the hall, to which you visibly perked up and began frantically looking around.

he marched towards you, hands in pockets and when you noticed him out of the corner of your eye, you were more than ready to drop all your shit and bolt away. but he didn’t let you as before you were able to take off on your heels, he grabbed your shoulder and spun you around to face him - then he noticed your hands raised in defence by your face and your head hung low.

his heart sank and his grip on your shoulder immediately softened, “i’m not gonna punch you, idiot.” he spat, rolling his eyes and gritting his teeth, trying to appear angry in hopes you’d mistake his light blush for pure rage. 

“i just wanted to say that i felt bad for chasing you through the halls yesterday - you didn’t stand a chance so i guess it was a bit unfair.” he said, frowning as you replied with silence so the duty fell on him to fill it, “and i got the stain out, anyway so.” 

more silence. lovely.

suddenly, he puffed his cheeks out as his eyes snapped to meet yours and he roared, “ARE YOU GONNA FUCKING SAY SOMETHING OR ARE YOU TOO BRAINDE-”

“are you wearing eyeliner?” 

and that was the true story behind why you missed last period, because you and kyōtani had a 30 minute conversation about eyeliner and make-up, then he convinced you to skip the rest of class with him so he could buy you ramen as an apology gift.

so yeah, he figured that perhaps he should try being nice more often.

kiyoomi sakusa

♡ he didn’t need someone to tell him to be nicer, he’s just predisposed to attempt to show kindness to someone he is fond of

♡ in his mind, showing kindness, respect and stripping himself of all his personality = the only way to be desirable 

♡ (ofc this takes place before he meets atsumu tho lol)

♡ so it’s not the realisation that’s the problem for him, it’s the execution 

♡ like how is he supposed to be nice without either sounding creepy or condescending? 

♡ *cut to sakusa practising in the bathroom mirror* ‘your hand looks- no-’ he scoffs, flicking cold water onto his face, ‘your hair looks cool- pretty- nice?’

♡ *camera pans to sakusa laying in bed, staring intently at the ceiling while imagining vivid and scarily detailed scenarios about ways he could mess up while talking to you* 

♡ *camera zooms in on sakusa’s face as he manifests a nicer version of himself*

♡ he might - depending on how insecure he is - watch one of those psychology videos or read a wikihow for help

♡ but other than that, he independently tries to alter his personality in order to gain your favour bc..true love ?

♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥

you smiled as a basketball rolled up to your feet during gym class, followed by the sound of someone approaching you and upon raising your gaze, your eyes met sakusa’s unmistakable black ones. his face hovered only a few inches away from yours due to the fact you had both reached down to pick up the ball at the same time.

he quickly pulled himself away, tucking the basketball under his elbow as he adjusted his mask so it properly covered his face to ensure that you didn’t see the light blush slowly spreading across his cheeks. he then proceeded to blurt out what he had been rehearsing for the past few nights, “oh, thank you, (y/n). your hair looks lovely today, by the way.”

you giggled, holding your hands firmly by your side to avoid fidgeting and making it obvious that his sudden comment flustered you, “thanks, sakusa. and, if we’re handing out compliments today, i didn’t know you were good at any sport other than volleyball but you’re doing surprisingly well at basketball.” you joked, your lips slowly curling into a cocky smirk, “though, i don’t think you’d stand a chance against my team.” 

god, you’re such a tease. you make it so hard for him to be nice to you. so, of course, your comment returned his ability to utter almost every sarcastic comment that comes to mind - screw being likeable. “you think so?” he quirked a brow, tossing the ball onto your lap then pacing backwards, “go on, then.”

rintarō suna

♡ it was probably those tips on social media that told him he has to be nicer 

♡ and plus he saw terushima get all the chicks and he was just sitting there like ‘where are my bitches at? 🥺’

♡ anyway, all the guys on social media that had girls lining up outside their door always had one thing in common: misogyny  obnoxious personalities !!

♡ and his whole personality was a sacrifice suna was willing and ready to make for just a crumb of cooch  🤲

♡ though you weren’t exactly his crush yet, suna thought you were the best person to carry out this experiment with bc he heard through the grapevine that you had a crush on him so perhaps this would make you happy

♡ he didn’t prepare much beforehand though which he immediately regretted as soon as he approached you bc admittedly, his game plan of ‘be self-assured but friendly’ was a bit vague 

♡ so he basically just had to bullshit through a whole, awkward conversation with you while wearing a forced ‘bold’ smirk which, in reality, looked as though he had just seen tiddies for the first time 

♡ hardly self-assured or friendly 

♡ also, the fact you thought he was playing a prank on you must’ve drastically altered the results of his experiment 

♡ at one point he says something extremely stupid you’d just quit playing along and just blurt out ‘wtf is wrong with you today’

♡ to which he’d be like ‘ahaha, nuthin much bbg, how bout you?’

♡ THE EXPERIEMNT ISN’T OVER UNTIL HE SAYS IT’S OVER OKAy?!

♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥

you rubbed your temples in order to soothe the throbbing headache suna gave you simply by existing. like yes, you had a crush on him 10 minutes ago - but that was before he came up to you and started acting like terushima on dodgy medication. “oh and your skin is glowing bab--”

“jesus christ, rintarō, shut up!” you cried, gripping the edge of your skirt to prevent your self from delivering a swift punch right to his stupid face. he’s seriously gotten on all your nerves at this point; firstly, by spamming your phone in the middle of the night asking for homework answers (accompanied by cursed memes) as he actually managed to wake you up. secondly, by acting so oblivious to the fact you clearly had a crush on him and now, this!

heat rose to his cheeks in embarrassment as his creepy smile instantly fell right back into his resting bitch face, “this isn’t working, is it?” 

“what’s not working?”

suna scoffed, rolling his eyes - his façade having evidently disappeared. “this.” he sighed, looking around as if someone was going to save him before his eyes finally settled on you and he was reminded of what he wanted in the first place, his sparkle was rekindled for just a moment which caused him to blurt out, “just fuck me already, i’m not asking for much.”

[animeyanderelover]

Yandere Fairy Tail Hc’s

Tw: Yandere themes, unhealthy mindset, unhealthy relationship, possessiveness, delusions, clinginess, overprotective behavior, manipulation, stalking, blackmailing, threatening, sabotage, kidnapping, killing

Hibiki Lates

✨Hibiki is a semi-delusional Yandere. I admit it, he obviously is quite perceptive and intelligent so he isn't a fully delusional Yandere. Still though he can't help, but think of his darling as something more. He's a womanizer and rumors say that he's had many different girlfriends at the same time. But with the sudden entrance of his darling something seemed to change. He suddenly turned extremely obsessive, wanted to know everything about them and he could never stop thinking about them ever since. So even if he knows that some things he does aren't technically right, he views this whole situation as some sort of destiny and that his darling is his only one. He's quite infatuated with his darling for that reason.

✨Manipulative and overprotective. Hibiki obviously has his charm upon his sleeve and there is a reason he's been voted for several years in a row as a boyfriend every girl would like to have. Problem is that if his darling is looking for a serious relationship, they might ditch him since he is a womanizer and they wouldn't want to be with someone who hangs out with numerous women at the same time. Hibiki has to prove something in here and he is aware of that. But he's a determined and persistent man and he will make sure that he'll court his darling successfully and he isn't above making himself look better than other possible competitors. And a man has to protect his lover after all so of course he is more protective, though he overdoes it in order to look more like a gentleman.

✨Hibiki might just experience for the very first time in his life how real jealousy feels like when you have someone you want to love and cherish for the rest of your life. As someone who is constantly being talked over and the knowledge that he is everyone's dream man give him a certain confidence and since he is a polite man, he never really lashes out on someone. But he learns quickly that he dislikes it when someone else tries to charm his darling the way he does and that e likes it even less when they react flattered by it. Such experiences never really fail to make him a bit more possessive since it's a brilliant reminder that he wants no one else to steal you away from him.

✨He ensures protection as good as he can, but if his darling is a mage themselves he naturally admires their strength and respects it when they can kick someone's asses all by their own. We did see in the Grand Magic Games that he isn't exactly strong when it comes to brute strength so in that aspect his darling might actually surpass him, but he is smart and great in other things. He has without a doubt his own little fanbase and has influence due to his popularity so it may very well be that he uses this against people he views as serious threats and destroys their reputation just like this. He does this more with people who harrassed the s/o or make their life hard rather than people who try to snatch his darling away and make them theirs. In such cases he rather trusts his own looks and charms.

✨Assuming that he does manage to become his darling's boyfriend, it might be not very likely that they would break up very fast since Hibiki almost appears to be the prefect boyfriend, he's probably just a bit too much. But since Hibiki views the whole reason you two met in the first place as fate he of course doesn't plan on letting his darling leave now that he's found true love. He uses manipulation over violence since he sees himself above such brute methods and in general he prefers blackmailing and bribing over physical force the moment he fails to solve an issue the normal way.

✨It's really not seen as anything serious when he first is seen in public with you, but when it is suddenly made clear soon after that he stopped looking at other women and stopped flirting with every women he's encountering, it's made clear that this is due to his relationship with you. His teammates and Ichiya congratulate him soon after for having found the real passionate love. Hibiki is actually a bit careful around his teammates when you're with him since they are womanizers as well and for that might behave the same with you which does make him jealous a bit. I think he has no real problem being extremely cheesy and romantic with you even in front of others. That guy does give his darling space even if he can be rather clingy from time to time, but if he misses them he tends to try to communicate per telepathy.

Eve Tearm

💛Eve is pretty much alike to Hibiki in this matter. He as well is a semi-delusional Yandere. However, he isn't like Hibiki a more intellectual character yet and different from Hibiki lacks the more serious side. He is younger after all and views that as part of his charm so he has a far more stronger side to himself than Hibiki has. Because Eve falls much more faster in love than Hibiki does and for that has a much more stronger view on destiny and that him and his darling are meant to be. He is protective as well. He might be younger and maybe less experienced than his other friends, but he as well wants to prove his dedication and love to the s/o.

💛Obsessive which should be obvious. What kind of lover would he be if he wouldn't know how to make you happy and how to always surprise you pleasantly. Something that still marks a big difference between him and Hibiki is the fact that Eve actually turns out to be more on the shy side once he's really fallen hard for his darling which is why he at first tends to be a bit more on the stalkerish side before Ichiya, Ren and Hibiki encourage the young man to go for this beaty before someone else takes them away from Eve. That includes them as well, they are womanizers. Eve uses manipulation less than Hibiki does since he is surprisingly bashful, but he will sweet talk things more harmless and appealing if he has too.

💛Eve is less possessive than Hibiki is and overall is less jealous. His darling gets their freedom and can talk to others all they like, he can endure them having friends and spending time with others. He is somewhat more cautios around other members of The Trimens for clear reasons. It isn't like Hibiki and Ren don't respect the fact that yo are Eve's lover, but being charming and flirting with women runs simply through their blood and so they might subconsciously accidentally and up doing just that. Eve of course is respectful with his friends and they understand him and stop quickly as well. In front of strangers flirting he still retains that more mature approach similar to Hibiki, but just like him he shares the dislike of seeing other people being all gentleman and nice to you the same way he is. He's not shy when it comes to making it to others clear that you already have him.

💛Similar to Hibiki he will share the same respect and admiration in case you are a wizard yourself and for that have spells up your own sleeves to fight for yourself, though in case of a sudden battle Eve would like to fight right besides you. Even with his whole soulmate belief Eve still mostly turns away from the idea of killing someone as long as it isn’t an emergency situation. He likes discussing it out as well and in the case that someone does try to cause troubles, you have a guild ready to help you out since Eve naturally won’t let anyone harm you. He can sabotage certain situations as well where odds are put against the person he views as a threat.

💛Assuming that you are part of Blue Pegasus, you two would already spend a lot of time together so there would be no need for him to kidnap you since he constantly hangs around you in the guild, regarding clinginess he can be more extreme than Hibiki is. He is younger and more delusional after all. And since he is seen from everyone in the guild as sie sort of younger brother he would definitely be able to count on their help in case something should have happened that caused you to be mad at him.

💛The wizard, despite higher clinginess, still respects the fact to hold back in public more than Hibiki would. Ren and Hibiki most likely triggered him to go out of his way and talk to his darling way back when he was still a secret admirer and didn’t know how to set up a good scenario and how to talk to them. Has a more submissive nature to him so he would like his darling to be the one to lead this relationship whilst he follows along and does in the meantime things to please them and make them happy. But similar to Hibiki he stops flirting with other women as we for the sake of you.

Ren Akatsuki

🎆Funnily from all three of them, he probably is the most lucid one. But he still only is a semi-aware Yandere to have, he's stained ith the same delusions as his team members. He can view many of his habits as rather unusual and he knows that as well, but in the end his belief in the greater love manages to overcome most of his doubts and insecurities whether he's wrong about his feelings or not. He mostly tries to show his feelings in a more tsunderish form, but in the end he as well is far too much lovestruck to come over as very cold and his darling can tease him greatly for it. From The Trimens he's notably the most possessive Yandere to have.

🎆Protective and manipulative. No matter how cold he may try to act, he'll always defend you from others and save you when you do trip into some issues and even if he complains afterwards that you should have been more careful, he was very worried and that's evident. Ren is subtle about his manipulations as well, mainly because he wants his darling to love him without him having to use bribing and other sorts of lies and tricks, but similar to Eve he will do it when there would be the need for it.

🎆He doesn't get along very well with other men except Ichiya, Hibiki and Eve for the real funny reasons because he views other guys as his rivals in love (don't expect girls to be safe from this either, he'll merely be more polite). And Ren is the most rude about his jealousy because even if he is more embarrassed to show how much he really do loves you, he sure as hell won't have others flirt with you and take you away from him. He's the passive-aggressive type with such people and his feelings for his darling are always made obvious during such times. In front of people like Hibiki and Eve he is less harsh, but it doesn't stop him from shooing them away when they are suddenly all over you as well.

🎆He might just be the one who would be the easiest triggered from all of them to act when someone starts looking more and more like potential troubles for the s/o and the relationship. I would say that with love rivals he wouldn't be violent, more focused on just scaring them away and use threats and warnings to stay away the moment someone becomes very persistent on having his darling. If it comes to people such as bullies or perverts he has a faster way to react because simple flirting isn't anywhere near as worse as being catcalled or otheriwse humiliated. But just like with Hibiki and Eve I really only see him killing someone when the circumstances are very bad and the person turns out to be a possible death sentence for his darling if he doesn't do something. Anything can happen in the heat f a battle.

🎆Despite his tries to come over as a Tsundere, he still spends a lot of time with his darling which kind of blows his cover up, but that really isn't something new. Ren isn't necessarily clingy unless someone triggered his jealousy extremely or recently something bad happened to his darling and for that reason he decides to accompany them for safety reasons. Kidnapping is still something he wouldn't really consider since, as already mentioned, he is the most self-conscious Yandere to have from those three.

🎆How you can tease him about his constant tries to come over as a Tsundere despite easily getting flustered around you is really funny. Ren wants to look cool in front of his darling which means he obviously doesn't want to embarrass himself whilst you're watching so he always tries his best. He cools his interactions with other girls extremely down after he's courted you since he obviously cares about you more than anyone else. He might still fall back into the habit of simple flirting, but he learned his lessons quickly when you had enough of it, avoided him and did the exact same thing with Hibiki and Eve who naturally flirted back. He got quite mad at them afterwards for this, though they only helped you giving Ren a taste of his own medicine.

[s-serendipit-y]

sfw alphabet: rantaro amami

dedicated to first place raffle winner @ihrtshuichi

gif not mine // unedited ignore errors please

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

very affectionate! rantaro has no problem with pda and as long as you’re okay with it he’ll show it. it doesn’t matter if it’s handholding, hugging, or even kissing. he likes it all.

 B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

you both probably started off as friends before you go together. either meeting as classmates or through one of his sisters but rantaro would be a great friend. if you like painting your nails he would offer to do it for you, and not to brag or anything he’s pretty good at it. also he would offer to let you go on adventures with him.

 C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

anytime you both aren’t busy he will always offer cuddles, it doesn’t matter who’s this big or little spoon. you two can take turns switching unless you a preference.

 D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

he’d like to settle down with you, you two don’t even have to get married but it be nice to live together after being in a relationship for a while. for cooking and cleaning he would be extremely good at it, he took care of his sisters and would do chores with them.

 E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

very gentle. rantaro really would think about breaking up with you unless it was something serious. like if he had to leave for a very long time, he doesn’t want you to wait for him. that’s not fair for you. or if one of you cheated (which is unlikely)

 F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

it’s doesn’t matter to him, if you want to get married he’d be down. but you two already have each other so could it get any better than that?

 G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

extremely gentle. you mean so much to him and the last thing he wants to do is hurt you physically or emotionally. he’d never forgive himself.

 H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

loves them! when you to hug he would hold you very tight and would not let go the first time you try to pull away. if your short enough he’ll hold you close to his chest but if you’re around the same height he’ll rest his head on your shoulder.

 I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

as soon as he knows he loves you he’s ready to tell you immediately. he would set up a romantic date to do whatever you favorite activity is then at the end, he would tell you.

 J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

very rare. he trust you a lot and he has no doubts in your relationship. if you happen to be hanging out with someone a lot he would ask you about it and that’s all. UNLESS he knows the person has feelings for you, he would let that person know you were taken.

 K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

just like i said in A he’s loves affection so rantaro’s okay with any type of kisses. most of the time he would kiss your hand or your cheek. it doesn’t matter to him where you kiss him, he’ll always appreciate them.

 L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

he has 12 sisters. need i say more?

 M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

great! most of the time he would wake up first and cook your favor breakfast and have all of the household chores finished before you even think about getti out of bed. but there are rare times he’ll hold you close until you wake up then give you a light kiss.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

just as amazing as mornings with him. he would hold you close to him, while you watch a movie or a tv show then when you two get tired he would turn off the tv giving you a kiss goodnight.

 O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

he’s very open with you, he trusts you a lot and has zero reason to hide any secrets from you.

 P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

there’s almost nothing you could do to make him angry, and even if he was he wouldn’t take it out on you.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing or do they kind of forget everything?)

he would remember the smallest things about you, and then when he brings it up you would be surprised that he would even remember something so superficial as that.

 R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

when you first met his sisters. he already knew they would like you but to actually see you all getting along warmed his heart.

 S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

if it’s during the mutual killing game he would be very protective. he had a video of himself to not trust anymore. he doesn’t want his s/o getting killed

if it’s not, not that protective unless your on a adventure. he doesn’t want to lose you like he lost his sisters. he’d never forgive himself.

 T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

lots of effort. when he plans dates his plan is to make you never forget them. if you do, he’d feel like he failed.

 U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

he blames himself a lot, like when he lost his sisters he carried the blame and burden all alone not depending on you or anyone else.

 V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

not that concerned but concerned enough to keep up with his appearance. as long as you find him attractive he’s happy :)

 W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

just like without his sisters, without you in his life it feels as if something is missing and there’s nothing that could fill that missing piece. it would take him a while to get over you.

 X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

he would love to buy matching earrings with you or any other piercings. or rings if piercings aren’t your thing.

 Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

someone who doesn’t respect his sisters that’s an immediate red flag for him and he would end it right he then and there.

 Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habit of theirs?)

it’s hard for him to sleep without you but when you two are together he prefers to cuddle throughout the night if you’re okay with it. if not, just knowing you’re there puts him at ease.

[caramelcal]

Songwriting and Fake Dating {3}

Word Count: 2.2k

a/n: hey guys! hope you all enjoy this one as you enjoyed the last one...

this is dedicated to charlie’s mustache. rip :(

also thanks to the person who originally requested this, legend behavior hahah :) hope you guys are having a wonderful night lovelies x 

disclaimer: I do not condone the use of my work/writing without my permission. The only place this has been posted is on my (rosemoonmist) tumblr account. This has not been posted on any other platform either. If you see any plagiarism of my work please let me know! <3 People work hard on their fics, so don’t steal them ty.

taglist:@gia-kerks​ @phantompogues​ @thesweetestsinner​ @honeyheartzz​ @ifilwtmfc​ @hoechx​ @merceret​ @katrin-okay​ @diosa75​

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Another line is drawn right through the words he tried to write. Luke wants to throw his notebook at the wall. He can’t think, or write, the words just aren’t coming to him anymore. He claws at his hair as if pulling on the strands will allow his brain to breathe and come up with the lyrics he had been trying to write for the past two hours. It used to be so easy but he knows why it isn’t working. It wasn’t rocket science.

The words came easy when he was with you, maybe it was the excitement of having someone to write with, or maybe it was the emotions that you both pulled from. It just wasn’t the same anymore. It’s almost like you were the inspiration, the lyrics, and now that you were no longer there, the lyrics weren’t either. Even if you guys didn’t know each other that long and you weren’t the closest, you guys seemed to click and you wrote so much better with each other.

Maybe he just needs a breather. That’s what Luke banks on, that once he goes outside and caught wind of the fresh air, the words will come back. He places down his guitar and his pen and sets out for outside.

Before long, he finds himself sitting on the back porch, one knee up next to his chest and the other splayed in front of him. His eyes are trained upon the dark sky, watching the stars. He barely hears the quiet footsteps that approach him but he sees them sit down beside him, knees up to their chest, hugging them.

“Carrie,” Luke acknowledges, not even looking towards his step-sister when he breaks the silence between the two.

“Luke.”

They fall back into another silence for a few moments, simply watching the stars together. However, Luke’s attention isn’t really on the stars anymore as he thinks about the girl beside him. He remembered when his mom first told him that she was getting remarried and that he was going to get a step-sister. He remembers when they met, and Carrie was just a little too entitled for his taste, and Luke was a little too “street” for hers. They didn’t exactly get off on the best foot, and there were times that there was still some friction in their relationship which certainly wasn’t helped when Luke joined Julie and the Phantoms, but there were times that they were okay; when they shared a sibling bond.

It was hard for both of them to get used to each other, and their parents getting married. For Luke, it had been just him and his mom for a while, so he couldn’t help but feel apprehensive for this new life, not only for him to have a new step-dad and step-sister, but in case this man hurt his mom too. Yet, for Carrie it was different, it had always just been her and Trevor after her mom died during labor. She didn’t know what it was like having a mom, and she didn’t know if she wanted it. Arguably, she was scared; scared that her dad would no longer have time for her and would be spending it all with Emily but that definitely wasn’t the case.

Actually, everything worked out quite well, and soon enough Luke and Emily were moving into the Wilson’s household. It was a strange experience for Luke like he was invited into a whole other world. They came from very different backgrounds, Luke and Emily had never been well off, but Carrie never had to worry about not being able to pay the bills or anything to do with that, so their personalities were quite different. Yet, over the past few weeks, they had become significantly closer and spent more time talking to each other. Luke would show Carrie the songs you guys wrote, and Carrie would show Luke the choreography that you guys had been working on.

They knew exactly why they had become closer, they weren’t stupid. It was all because of you, you were their common ground. You brought the two siblings together.

“You miss her,” Luke comments, breaking the everlasting silence as he glances over at his sister. She isn’t facing the sky anymore and is instead looking down at her legs. It’s been two weeks since you and Carrie fought, where Carrie kicked you out of Dirty Candy, and she hadn’t spoken to you since.

Carrie is quiet for a few moments, almost as if she is battling herself on whether or not she should answer Luke, but she does, quietly, “Of course I do, she’s my best friend.”

A silence fills the air yet again, and Luke doesn’t know whether or not to answer Carrie. The girl has never actually opened up to him before, so for her to tell him that she was missing you was something that was new territory for the both of them. He knew that she missed you, you would have to be insane not to and he was pretty sure this was the longest that Carrie had ever gone without talking to you, so it was like life had been shifted entirely.

“You miss her too,” It’s a simple statement that Carrie makes, but it makes Luke sigh. He does, of course he does. He can’t even write without you.

“She won’t pick up my calls,” Luke says, ducking his head down as he traces the patterns on the ground of the porch. At this rate, he’s probably called you like twenty times in the last week but he always gets sent to voicemail. He knows it’s intentional, but every time he picks up his phone and presses the dial button, there’s a part that hopes you’ll pick up; that you’ll come over and wrote songs with him.

“I won’t pick up hers either,” Carrie admits, biting her lip as she continues to watch the sky, “The dirty candy girls have been bashing her, for putting the band in second place. I just want to scream at them to stop.”

“You should, it isn’t y/n’s fault. She was on her way to the studio that day but I dragged her up to my room. She lost her best friend for just helping me out with a dumb song.”

Carrie knows that Luke feels guilt for all of this. All three of them are miserable without each other and they all know it. Yet, they’re all filled with too much pride to apologize, or even to pick up one another’s calls. They know that they can’t go on like this, because as it goes on they all just feel worse and worse, but no one seems willing to make the first move.

“She always goes out her way to help others, huh?” Carrie says, reminiscing on the number of people that you have helped in the time that you guys have been friends. She remembers the way you give the Dirty Candy girls your water and snacks when they forgot theirs, meaning that you would often to without, helping old people cross the street and just being generally helpful.

You were always so eager to help anyone and everyone, no matter who it was, and that was something that Carrie always admired about you, “Most helpful person I know.”

After Luke’s statement, they are enveloped in another silence, both watching the sky peacefully before a shooting star flies overhead. They don’t speak of it, simply enjoying one another’s company which isn’t something they often find themselves doing. Deep down, they both like each other’s company, and each other, but they never say anything, both too stubborn to do so.

After a few more minutes, Luke gets up, lightly patting his sister on the shoulder, “You should answer her calls, Car.”

. . .

Being a waitress was actually surprisingly fun for you. Normally, you enjoyed serving customers, interacting with people and it was a way to get some extra money. However, right now you wanted nothing less than to be out of here, despite having hours left of your shift; in fact, you had just started.

Normally, customers were respectful and nice, but this one...this one was testing your limits. What made it worse, was that it was none other than Kayla, Carrie’s replace best friend for you and she was shouting, trying to embarrass you in front of not only the customers but in front of your colleagues as well. She’s with a few other friends, but Carrie isn’t there.

Passing you a smirk, she wipes her hand across the table, purposefully making the cutlery drop, “Pick it up, waitress.”

The rest of her group snicker as you try to hold the embarrassed blush that rises to your face. Closing your eyes momentarily, you sigh, “Kayla, I know I haven’t been the best band member but-”

“I don’t think you get it, y/n,” Kayla cuts you off, standing up and walking right in front of you, “Carrie has already told you that you’re done. I hope you would at least have a bit of dignity and to accept that instead of coming begging to me after Carrie didn’t pick up your calls.”

After she says that, Carrie obnoxiously chews on her gum, the other girls snickering. Looking around at them, their eyes on you as they laughed let you clearly know that you were no longer friends with any of the Dirty Candy girls. They were only friends with you to get in with Carrie and it makes you feel dumb that you didn’t realize that beforehand.

“Pathetic,” Kayla spits, looking up and down at the sight of your ducked head.

“Hey, watch it would you Kayla? I think you forget that even though Carrie is annoyed at y/n right now, as soon as she gets over that y/n will be right where she belongs in Dirty Candy again and as Carrie’s best friend,” Julie speaks up from the booth beside them, eyes squinting at the girl, “I think you’re letting this all go to your head too much.”

“You have no idea what Carrie is like, Julie. Plus, even if you told her that I was being a bitch to y/n she won’t listen to you,” Kayla snorts, rolling her eyes at the other girl.

“She’ll listen to her brother though, and we all know that he’ll believe me over you,” Julie responds sassily, Alex and Reggie who were beside her sharing glances. Often, they didn’t like to get involved in drama, and Julie didn’t either but just hearing how these girls were treating you made them feel horrible.

“Whatever,” Kayla says, rolling her eyes again before standing up, “Let's go girls, there seems to be a loser convention going on in here right now.”

Kayla doesn’t seem to be embarrassed, but you know well enough that she is getting out of there before she shows it. The girls are quick to follow behind her, all brushing you off and acting better than you as they pass.

Yet, you don’t pay attention to them for long as you turn towards the girl, giving her a small smile, “Thanks, Julie.”

“No problem, y/n,” Julie smiles, turning her head towards you sweetly. Noticing Alex and Reggie looking at you, you give them a shy wave and a smile before your attention is turned back towards Julie, “Can you do me a favor?”

“Of course, what’s up?” You’re prepared to take Julie’s order, considering that is what you expected her to want you to do but what she says next surprises you.

“Don’t be too hard on Luke, he really didn’t mean to get in between you and Carrie. And we just wanted to say that even if you don’t get back in with Dirty Candy, our band will always be open for you.”

. . .

It’s much later in the night, the café empty apart from you, humming softly a tune from a song you can’t remember the name of. You’re dancing a little as you give the tables one last wipe down before making your way behind the counter again. It was your turn to lock up for the night, the other waitresses already away home but you actually liked it when it was like this.

You didn’t even have the lights on as you took of your small apron-like thing and hung it up. Reaching for the keys, you stop when you hear the bell ringing, signaling that someone had entered the shop. Could they not read the closed sign?

“Sorry, we’re closed right now-” You say, whirling around and meeting hazel eyes, voice cutting off when you saw who was standing there. Clearing your throat, you shift awkwardly between two feet, “Luke.”

“Hey y/n,” Luke says softly, his hair is messy under his navy colored beanie, but you know you can’t talk, yours probably looks a lot worse. He takes a step towards you before speaking again, his voice still soft, “We need to talk.”

[qqueenofhades]

helllllloo. i wanted to first say that you are a wonderful human being, your presence on my dashboard brightens my day, you’re so kind to all your followers and i love seeing you interact with us! and i am sending you all the positive adult vibes your way ✨✨✨

second, there’s been a lot of chit chat lately about all the heartrender husband fans combusting over Simon Sears’ interview and the many many feelings that a certain grumpy bear gives us for his one (1) soft spot and ray of sunshine despite all his fragility and fear. i was wondering, if you had any thoughts on how it looks on the flip side for fedyor? i cant imagine being married to the General’s right hand man is easy (it’s both the safest and most dangerous place for Ivan to be).

Okay first of all, the first part of your ask is so sweet that I read it like three different times and was like wow are u sure. Second, boy oh boy can I use those positive adult vibes (even if they sound slightly like a porno 😂) because it has been the few weeks from hell. Job rejections, family health drama, moving hassle, and other such nonsense, to the point where if either myself or a member of my family has inadvertently insulted a leprechaun, I hereby apologise deeply and unreservedly on our behalf. Sheesh.

Anyway, never mind all that. We are indeed losing our minds slightly over said interview, for obvious reasons, but yes, Fedyor. Obviously he is Ivan's little ray of sunshine and one (1) weakness and the person he allowed himself to fall in love with despite losing the rest of his family, all of which are ship dynamics that drive me/us promptly feral. I definitely feel, however, that Fedyor has plenty of ferocity of his own, which is one of the reasons Ivan is drawn to him. Book!Fedyor tells Alina in the carriage scene that he became a Heartrender instead of a Healer (despite being of a Healing temperament) because he thought that he could do more good for people as a soldier, including when he has to kill. He also says that being a Corporalki is the hardest of all Grisha paths and requires the most training and study. I imagine that Fedyor was pretty good especially at the book learning part of his training, is interested in and dedicated to Grisha lore and history, and about finding way to use that beyond the obvious and making the Grisha appreciate who they are as a people and what their purpose in Ravka really is. And I'm not just saying that because I am also a historian and like to project onto my favorite characters. Shh.

Fedyor is obviously the total opposite of Ivan, personality-wise, but I think that is also why they complement each other. Fedyor helps Ivan lighten tf up and eat a pink cookie at a party, and Ivan helps Fedyor cut directly through the bullshit when he needs to. Living in the Little Palace and around the royal court, as members of General Kirigan's inner circle, obviously requires a touch for politics and diplomacy that Fedyor is far better at than Ivan, but that means his instinct is likewise to smile and humor people even when he wants to tell them to fuck off. Cue Ivan coming along and telling them to fuck off, which means they can blame Ivan for it and not Fedyor, and Ivan is perfectly 100% fine with everyone thinking he is the biggest grump to ever grump, since the only people whose opinions he cares about are Kirigan and Fedyor. Oh Ivan.

Fedyor is also outgoing and likes to have fun and is probably on good terms with most of his compatriots. He's clearly friends with Nadia since we see them arm in arm at the winter fete in mlm/wlw solidarity. He is also Ivan's Anger Translator, and if people have something they want to tell Ivan, they have a bad habit of telling Fedyor instead and trusting him to pass it on, rather than talking to Ivan themselves. (Fedyor: honey do you think this is even a slight problem? Ivan: no what are you talking about, it's great.)

I do think that Fedyor is just as frightened of losing Ivan as Ivan is of losing him, though for different reasons. It helps for him that they're usually in the field together (judging by his comment to Kirigan in 1x06 assuming that he and Ivan are going after Nina together) and facing the same things and same danger, even if it causes Ivan anxiety for this exact reason. I do appreciate that none of us have bothered to include any homophobia in Grisha culture, or exclude the possibility that Ivan and Fedyor could indeed be married in a church ceremony in the Ravkan liturgy. There's probably some side eye toward their relationship in wider Ravkan society, sure, but that is also tied up with being Grisha and the prejudices that they already face for being different. Behind the walls of the Little Palace, though, that is not really a factor and not something that they have to deal with. People are surprised that Fedyor and Ivan are together not because they're both men, but because "you're so nice and he is so... Ivan..."

Fedyor: I know, I know. But I love him anyway.

I also think that Fedyor is deeply protective of Ivan, not least because he is the only one who knows the truth about him being fragile and losing loved ones and everything else that he has been through, which is why one of my favorite headcanons is Fedyor going absolutely apeshit if Ivan is ever seriously hurt. Likewise, you can call Ivan grumpy in a joking fashion, and Fedyor will chuckle and agree with you, but anything else and his eyes turn red and the Heartrending hands come out like what u say about my husband bitch. Only Fedyor is allowed to roast Ivan in depth at all, according to Fedyor, and he will Let You Know if you transgress.

(Also why I want Ivan and Fedyor to meet the Crows again, Ivan sees Jesper and goes NEMESIS, and Fedyor just goes MURDER!!!)

Anyway. I'm love them. The end.

[raeality]

Star Wars WLW Week | Day 4

Day 4 Prompt: Courtship Rituals

Otherwise known as "How To Court An Alderaanian"

Amilyn Holdo gets a lesson in Alderaanian courtship traditions. (~2200 words)

Amilyn is enjoying Aldera’s open-air market with the rest of her Pathfinding class. Leia’s mother, Queen Breha, had suggested they all do a little shopping before eating dinner in the palace that evening, and Amilyn is taking full advantage. She’s already purchased a new fuchsia scarf to wear at said dinner. But mostly it’s nice to wander through the stalls without a mission in mind. Alderaan is a beautiful planet, and its people seem to enjoy creating beautiful things. Amilyn truly loves beautiful things.

She runs into Kier Domadi at a stall featuring a long table crowded with carvings that look to be made out of real wood.

“Kier, what are these?” she asks the native Alderaanian.

He glances between Amilyn and the table. “You’ve never heard of lovespoons? They’re a treasured Alderaanian tradition.”

“These are spoons?”

Amilyn picks up one of the intricately carved wooden objects. There is a shallow depression at one end that could be spoon-like, but because most of the object is a long series of interlocking symbols that have nothing to do with silverware, Amilyn doubt it’s ever being used at a dinner table.

Kier smiles gently at her. He’s a nice boy, but usually a little too academic-minded for Amilyn’s liking. It does make him the right person to ask questions of at least.

“Most people hang theirs as decoration,” Kier explains in his future historian’s voice. “Traditionally, demonstrating both your skill in woodcarving and the dedication of time it takes to make such an object were necessary elements in Alderaanian courtship.”

Amilyn raises her eyebrows at him. “And what about these days? Does anyone still gift these?” There’s an interesting idea taking shape in the back of her mind.

Kier tips his head to one side. “There are dedicated artisans who make them now,” he says, gesturing to the owner of the stall. “And some people continue to purchase them to give to their beloved. Most married couples on Alderaan have at least one lovespoon hanging on their wall. In fact, I can show you a rather famous example in the palace later. The queen keeps the lovespoon the viceroy gave her when they were courting displayed in their throne room.”

Amilyn turns the lovespoon over in her hands, examining the way the polished wood flows from one symbol to the next without a hint of joinery. It would probably take a long time to learn the skill to make something like this.

“Thanks, Kier,” she says, setting the spoon back down on the table. She’s not interested in buying one, but knowing that Leia’s parents have one displayed in a prominent place is making her interesting idea a lot more compelling.

~

Amilyn is right. It takes a long time before she’s skilled enough to carve a lovespoon of her own.

She immediately finds a teacher back on Gatalenta to teach her the basics, and she takes to making practice pieces with every spare moment she can find. The problem is, she doesn’t have many spare moments. At first, Pathfinding and the Apprentice Legislature take up most of her attention. That’s not the worst because at least she gets to be with Leia while she’s doing those things. They grow ever closer as friends, and Amilyn tries not to pay attention to the way Leia looks at Kier whenever they’re all together.

But then Leia tells Amilyn all about the rebellion now forming against the Empire. And the pair find themselves on a mission to the Paucris System. They manage to warn the rebels gathered there of the Empire’s interest in their location just in time for them to evacuate. But neither of them can save Kier Domadi, that noble fool, who’d come to rescue Leia and ended up caught in the rebel station’s self-destruction wave. Amilyn is sad to lose a friend, and sadder still for Leia who is obviously devastated by Kier’s death. So Amilyn is the one who pilots them all back to Alderaan and keeps the Empire from figuring out just how entangled they are with the rebel cause.

Amilyn is also the one Leia leans on while she’s grieving. So she sets her carving aside to focus on teaching Leia skyfaring and eventually letting her know that it’s okay to smile and laugh again. By the time Leia is formally invested as Alderaan’s crown princess, she and Amilyn are spending nearly all of their free time together.

Once Leia teaches Amilyn how to drive a speeder on Coruscant, all bets on either of them actually being in their city apartments at night are off. They explore as much of Coruscant as they can while the Apprentice Legislature is in session. And Amilyn keeps trying to indicate her more-than-friendship feelings to Leia, but she’s more than a little scared of losing Leia’s actual friendship if those feelings aren’t returned.

And then, one night the two of them make a ridiculous bet. And in the chaotic aftermath of its execution, Leia asks Amilyn to kiss her.

So Amilyn starts carving again. She’s just starting to get competent enough to plan the actual design for a real lovespoon when things with the rebellion get serious. Leia moves on from the Apprentice Legislature so she can take over as Imperial Senator for her father. Amilyn can’t do the same for Gatalenta, but Leia helps her become a civil minister in the Alliance Civil Government. It’s important work obviously, helping to bring the Galactic Republic back from the ashes the Empire scattered across the galaxy. But it means she and Leia hardly have time for each other anymore as their duties pull them to separate star systems more and more.

Amilyn’s heart breaks when she hears about the destruction of Alderaan. She races to be by Leia’s side on Yavin 4, but their reunion is temporary. Leia makes it a mission to save the Alderaanians who were off-world when their home planet was destroyed, and Alliance High Command assigns Amilyn back to her ministerial duties. After a clever idea she had when the ship she was on is caught in a Star Destroyer’s tractor beam, Amilyn is promoted to captain in the Alliance Fleet and her life changes yet again.

She tries to keep tabs on Leia, but the princess of Alderaan is often deep undercover, or otherwise involved with Alliance High Command. They manage to send each other messages on occasion, but Amilyn feels Leia growing distant in more ways than one. She’s seen the smuggler at Leia’s side with the blaster at his hip and a glint in his eyes. Han Solo is the opposite of Kier Domadi in almost every way, but Amilyn feels the same desire not to pay attention when she sees Leia looking at him.

Eventually, Amilyn puts her carving tools away for good. She spends the ensuing decades focused on helping the Alliance and then the New Republic once the Empire has truly fallen. She watches from a respectful distance as Leia marries her smuggler and then has a son with him. But Leia still invites her over and introduces her to little Ben as “Aunt Amilyn.” Their friendship never quite recovers to what it was when they were girls together, but Amilyn isn’t surprised. For her part, she knows that she’ll always be in love with Leia. That alone puts a certain distance between them that can probably never be breached. But Amilyn is glad to have Leia back in her life in whatever capacity she can.

And when a new power in the form of the First Order rises and Leia asks for Amilyn’s help once again, Amilyn is only too ready to join General Organa’s Resistance. She’s put in charge of the Resistance Fleet as a Vice Admiral and she takes to her new command with pleasure.

But Amilyn notices a difference in Leia. And eventually she gets the truth out of her old friend. Her son, Ben, has fallen to the dark side of the Force. And Han is gone; their marriage dissolved in all but name.

Amilyn feels terrible when she pulls out the box with the half-carved lovespoon inside it, the dim hope that has remained in her heart after all of these years trying to flare back to life within her. She looks at the rough shape for a long time. Her fingers ache for the handles of her carving tools, and she can almost smell the peels of exposed wood as they curl back and then drop to the floor.

She shakes her head and puts the box away again.

~

“Amilyn, what is this?”

Amilyn turns from the pot of Gatalentan tea she’s brewing to see Leia holding up her failed attempt at a lovespoon.

“Ah… That.” Amilyn brings the pot over to the small table in her ready room and pours a glass of tea for Leia and herself. “I didn’t realize generals had permission to snoop through vice admiral’s belongings.” She says it lightly so Leia will know she’s teasing, but Leia still blushes.

“The box was unlatched, and I was curious,” she admits. She settles herself in a chair and reaches for her glass. She inhales the steam with a smile. “I do love this tea.”

Amilyn smiles back at her. “You always did,” she says. She takes a sip of her own tea before running a fingertip over her unfinished carving. “I’ve carried this all over the galaxy with me, you know, but I never have gotten the chance to finish it.”

“You made this?” Leia looks at it again with something like awe in her dark eyes.

Amilyn hums. “I did. And even though it’s not finished, maybe you can guess what it’s supposed to be?”

Leia sets her glass down and picks up the carving. She turns it over and over in her hands. Amilyn tries not to thrill at the way Leia’s fingers glide lovingly over the turns in the wood as though it’s a living thing she has to be gentle with. Finally, Leia holds it out in front of her, taking it in at one glance. She tilts her head.

“I’m not sure,” she admits.

Amilyn steeples her fingers beneath her chin. “The first time I saw one, I didn’t know what it was either,” she says. “I had to get Kier Domadi to explain it to me.”

Leia sucks in a startled breath. Amilyn winces. She shouldn’t have dropped Kier’s name like that without warning. Even decades later, his absence is a grief to them both.

But a moment later, Leia is staring wide-eyed at Amilyn, clutching the carving close to her chest.

“Amilyn,” she says as though she can’t believe the words that are coming out of her mouth. “Is this an Alderaanian lovespoon?”

Amilyn shrugs and gives the princess half a smile. “It was supposed to be. Once upon a time. Like I said, I never have gotten the chance to finish it.”

Leia touches the carving again, and Amilyn sees the moment she starts to understand the symbols Amilyn has been trying to bring out of the wood. The shapes are rudimentary, but identifiable: starships and speeders, a crown and a sword for Leia, twists like skyfaring silks and flames for Amilyn, and at the end where it all comes together is a shallow spoon-like curve in the shape of a heart.

“When did you start this…?” Leia breathes, not quite looking at Amilyn.

Amilyn’s heart is beating faster, and she tries to will it to slow down. She shrugs again, and takes another sip of her tea. “Right after Kier told me about the tradition,” she says. “I knew it would take some time to learn how to carve, so I spent a long time practicing before I started that piece. And of course I never had enough time to work on this one, so I couldn’t ever finish it. And if I couldn’t finish it, I couldn’t tell you…”

“Oh, Amilyn.” And Leia is staring at her now with unshed tears shining in her eyes.

Amilyn’s breath catches in her throat. Leia lays the carving down on the table between them and reaches for Amilyn’s hands. Their fingers intertwine easily, Amilyn’s slender and trembling where Leia’s are sure and strong.

“My dear,” Leia whispers, caressing the backs of Amilyn’s hands with her thumbs. “I’m not sure I deserve your love.”

“And yet you’ve always had it,” Amilyn whispers back. She can feel her own tears gathering in her eyes and she blinks them away furiously. “I have loved you all these long years, Leia, and I will continue to love you until the day that I die.”

“May the Force grant that day is long from now,” Leia says with a tremulous smile. “Amilyn, my dear, dear friend.” And she lifts Amilyn’s hands in hers so that she can kiss the tips of her fingers with soft lips. “Be patient with me if you still can. Stars know I love you too, but my heart has been so bruised…”

“I know,” Amilyn murmurs. “I know it has.”

Leia releases one of her hands to touch the lovespoon again. “May I have this in the spirit with which it was originally intended?” she asks a little shyly.

Amilyn blinks back more tears. “Are you saying you’d like me to court you, Your Highness?”

Leia dips her head and smiles. Her fingers tighten around Amilyn’s as she nods. “Yes.”

And Amilyn thinks she can fly forever on that word alone.

(Author's Note: Lovespoons are a Welsh tradition that I co-opted for this fic. If you want to read a bit more about them, the Wikipedia link is below.)

[thedumbguywithaheart43]

BoomLord's weird adventure

Chapter 45 Time for a party

Boom's eyes shot open. His body tensed and he suddenly found himself jumping up right onto his feet. A cold sweat had taken him as he started to breathe deep breaths. He wasn't alone in this action as the main six began to wake each looking more relieved with every waking breath. Boom couldn't help but give them a smile."I'm going to guess you guys went into my head didn't you." The girls said nothing instead deciding that the floor and walls were far more interesting to look at. "heh well I can't say that I wanted you to do that but I suppose I do appreciate the concern." The girls then turn to him each letting out out an awkward chuckle. As the girls brush themselves off they each took a second to admire there original pony forms. Being away in human form has made them all appreciate their current bodies. This only made boom give out a pleased snort. Seeing the girls happy makes things a bit easier for his troubled mind. But with no rest for the wicked bubblegum taps his shoulder. "The flame boom." Boom rolled his eyes as he reach into his satchel and pulled out the small blaze witch flames danced in his hands. "Get this to the machine pb then this will be over." bubblegum gave him a gentle smile before taking the flame. "After all these years you'll finally be able to move on from this goal. perhaps now you can move on to other things."she teased pointing at Twilight. Boom normally would be upset or annoyed but he couldn't help but feel a tinge of joy. "That would be nice with all this excitement I almost forget about the best parts of life."He drifted his gaze to Twilight who stood not far from him. Even in her pony form she still never loses her adorkable charm. Twilight then walked over resting her head against his leg."so what now boom do we have to prepare for a fight."boom gave out another chuckle."I just took down their best warrior there's a chance we may not even have to fight but for now I think it's time we celebrate."he knelt down to her level an placed a kiss on her head. This gained a cute pleased squeak from Twilight and an annoyed groan from Katara. Boom considered this a win.

2 hours later in ponyville team Avatar the main six the adventure game an Deadpool all gathered together for one of Pinky's signature parties. In a matter that defied reality think he had managed to fill the castle with streamers ,snacks ,cakes ,and even set up a stage with karaoke. It was so Grand that even courage was enjoying himself after boom took a quick stop to grab him. Everything was going amazing for the first time and felt like years things really started to look up as boom downed another cup of punch. Most of the others were drinking cider and eating cake although boom had already found that certain things in this world didn't agree with him. mostly the fact that what's a normal drink for ponies is highly alcoholic beverage for humans. Still no one else seem to be having the negative effects that he had since even he knew he was a lightweight. But it didn't put a downer on his mood. Not as long as he had the smart little pony to his side. "And so that's why I think that the daring do series needs to be brought back into the main Stream book stores. Uh boom are you listening?"Twilight asked after a long and lengthy time explaining her opinions on daring do."sorry twi I haven't read it yet but we'll have plenty of time to do that later but uh hey do you mind if I do something real quick."she really gave him a nod still annoyed that he wasn't paying attention.

3 been walked up to the stage as everyone turned to him the whole room silencing to hear what he has to say."hey everybody I don't want to take too much of the time I hope you're all enjoying yourselves but I wanted to sing a little song from my Earth it's been slowing many times throughout the generations so I hope you all appreciate it. An I'd like to dedicate the song specifically to Twilight an her friends."

"🎶 Kind friends and companions come join me in rhyme come lift up your voices and chorus with mine. let us drink an be merry let grief be refrained for we may or may never all be here again. So here's a health to the wee lass that I love so well for style and for beauty there are none who Excel. she smiles on my countenance and she sits on my knee for theres no man on Earth as happy as me. So here's a health to the company and one to my lass let us drink an be merry all out of one glass. let us drink an be merry an grief be refrained for we may and might never alll be here again. 🎶"

5 The room went silent before erupting in cheers. Despite his pitchy tway an lack of a vocal warm up not to mention forgetting most of the song everyone managed to get the message. He's thankful that they're all here and he's thankful for Twilight. He then walked down back to his partner."eh sorry I know it's a little dorky but I felt like you might like it."he rubbed the back of his head a little nervous unsure how she would react. She reacted by flying up and giving him a very large kiss before landing back down into the ground."it was a lovely song hun and I love you."he smiled."I lov." A tap on his shoulder stole his attention it was Deadpool."I don't mean to interrupt you man but we have a smoke break scheduled."he rolled his eyes."I'll be back soon twi"she nodded and moved out of the way as the two walked off.

6 Deadpool and boom reach the outside air it was a cold night.Cold enough for their breath to be seen. The two stood there for a moment before Deadpool pulled out a single cigarette and let it sitting it against his mask."Are you sure you really want to do this Boom. Do we really need to do it now."Boom didn't look at him."we have to Deadpool I was never going to let them get this involved I'm already sorry enough I have to get you in this shit storm."Deadpool merely scoffed."I ain't new to this shit it ain't the first time I had to betray someone's trust but are you sure you're ready to do this she'll hate you."boom takes another breath letting it fly into the air."I'm sure Deadpool at the very least the crew an avatar guys will keep em safe."Deadpool drops the cigarette and stops it out as he breathes out a large cloud of smoke."hope you're prepared to fight your friends because they're not just going to let you do this."boom let's out a silent grown."I'll do what I must."

7 Celestia stood alone in her throne room her sister having just left for the party she opted to stay to decompressed after a stressful day. The idea that so much time has passed without any time passing at all was an enigma in itself and it troubles her mind just to comprehend it still at the very least it's almost over at least she hopes."it's just a little longer tia."she lets out a sigh before a voice catches her attention."careful Celly when it may be a little time for you can be an eternity for someone else."boom stepped out of The Shadow and into celestias vision."boom Lord what are you doing here I thought you were at the party?"she kept her tone low not aggressive but firm in order to express her displeasure at being spooked."I was Celestia and part of me wishes I still was but sadly the good of everything says I need to be here.... And Celestia for what it's worth I'm really sorry about this.... I truly am."before Celestia could say another word another figure from behind Deadpool placed a metal collar around her neck witch flashed green. The next thing she know electricity surrounds her body filling her with pain as she passes out."well Deadpool we're in the final stretch i only hope it doesn't send us to hell ."

[all-things-mlqc]

Boys reaction to MC who never have date before meeting them. Like, the boys as MC's first love.

My first HC on here and I was memeing half the time while writing it. Included what the boys would do after hearing this news as well because why not. I’m not a Lucien fan but lord have mercy on my soul, I couldn’t help making his romantic af. He is the ideal boyfriend/date minus the l i e s that come in the MS and I hate it. All the crossed out stuff is just commentary because I couldn’t help myself. Hope you enjoy~ Thank you for your ask <3

How the MLQC boys react to being MC’s first love below the cut~

Victor:

Follows with some snarky comment after he calls her “Dummy”.

Let’s be real here, if he doesn’t call her dummy immediately, then something is wrong. Reminds me of when we streamed the first episode of MLQC and we were all yelling “CALL US BAKA” the second Victor came on screen.

While he seems cool and collected on the outside, you can hear the computer shutdown sound play on the inside.

To him, this is a shocking confession.

Victor: I’m not surprised a dummy like you hasn’t been in a serious relationship before.

Victor, internally: How has she never been in a serious relationship before??

He’s not very good at expressing himself honestly through his words but he truly admires MCs hardworking nature.

He finds that very attractive in a woman and is surprised that other men in the line of business haven’t taken their shot with her yet. it’s because they can feel your death stare on the back of their heads, kind sir

One thing he struggles with is being himself. He tries to act like everything is in his control all the time.

Because of this, upon hearing MCs confession, he invites her to a fancy dinner at his penthouse insert Victor’s Dazzling Date because THATS ALL THAT MATTERS. Jkjk haha... unless...

He wants to impress her as much as possible even though he knows deep down that she doesn’t care about what a person has and rather how they are as a person

BUT ALAS. The stress be real for her first boyfriend.

He wants her to know she made a good decision without verbally telling her out of his own bitch mouth I love you, please call me baka so he goes over the top with their first date.

Basically pulls a Mr. Krabs when taking Mrs. Puff on a date. Just add shades to Mr. Krabs to represent Victor’s “I’m calm. I’m chill. I’m all good. We vibin out here.”

All MC wants from him is his honest and genuine thoughts. and a lifetime stock of pudding because good god a girl has chocolate needs

MC eventually figures out Victor’s intentions with all the gifts he rains on her because hE dOesNt nEeD tHeM he can’t give her anything more than a cup of pudding up front

MC knows this and accepts the secret gifts with a smile.

She sends a gift in return to his office the following day along with a thank you for the wonderful date.

Can you hear that? It’s the sound of Victor’s heart rate slowing to the average persons.

Kiro:

insert pikachu meme

This boy is mind blown.

“How have you never been in a relationship before??? That can’t be true!”

Kiro sees the good in everyone, so hearing that MC has never been in a relationship before him is

He gives her a bright smile and playfully hugs her from behind.

The two of them laugh together as he whispers genuinely in her ear,

“I promise to make you happy. You won’t regret it.”

He immediately drags her off to Loveland’s Amusement Park, where they spend the whole day together.

Rides, snacks, games, you name it, they did it all.

Kiro naturally spoils MC without putting much thought to it.

It’s like a reflex for him. It’s just who he is as a person. Always wants to share the happiness in the world with the people he cares about.

As for how anxious he is after hearing the news about being MC’s first love, he is screaming at a pitch only dogs can hear.

Almost 100% of the time he has a smile on his face and even convinces himself that he’s not worried about it.

But he is.

It only hits him when he thinks about another man taking MC away from him after seeing her talking with another guy.

MC will catch him without his carefree smile at times and eventually confronts him about it.

He shows her a wide smile and says there’s nothing to worry about.

L I E S. BABIE LEMME HOLD YOU I PROMISE YOU DONT NEED TO WORRY.

After a few attempts of trying to get Kiro to open up about it, he gives in and says he’s worried he’s not good enough for her HAHAHHA, GOOD ONE KIRO

MC, however, turns it around on him

MC: I’m afraid IM the one who isn’t good enough for you.

They both smile and embrace each other, knowing they’ll get through any little concerns like this.

Gavin:

He knows.

We’re talking about the boy who has been in love with MC since high school; Who has protected her behind the scenes ever since he laid eyes on her.

He would know if she had been in a previous or current relationship.

It only comes as a shock when she says she’s never been interested in anyone else romantically before. Lies. Have you seen the other suitors, MC. In a world where guys are that hot, you must’ve had at least 1 crush, c’mon sis.

Gavin respected her personal boundaries and never looked into her personal affairs so he had very little knowledge of her views on other guys.

He gets a little bit nervous, since he believes her standards must be high if she hasn’t been interested in anyone else before.

Does the full on soldier oath, bend the knee cliche which includes “I promise to always protect you” and “Nobody will ever be good enough for you”

Mc: Gavin no...

Gavin: NOBODY WILL EVER BE GOOD ENOUGH FOR YOU.

Spoiler alert: You are waayyyyy too good for me, Gavin.

He doesn’t have too much anxiety over the thought of being MC’s first love though since he’s very good at staying true to himself and knows MC is one to admire that about others.

Gavin is a quiet guy in general. He’s more of an observer and watches MC to take note of what she enjoys.

When he sees her eyes shine bright after seeing a delicious dessert cafe, he offers to take her. He makes sure to express how he also wants to go since he knows she won’t accept unless he is interested as well.

Boy literally has no interests the moment he’s with MC. He is essentially that vine

Doesn’t even wait until the question is over and just “Absolutely. Let’s do it”

MC: But I haven’t even said anything yet...

He isn’t much different from how he is now. Has around the same amount of anxiety just from being in MCs presence.

Boy just wants to PROTECC and is always panicking on the inside but tries to remain calm.

He is very good at calming his anxiety though since he’s had so long to understand what MC values and knows she just loves people for themselves.

That’s all he needs.

Lucien:

His eyes widen slightly at MCs confession.

It’s nothing too mind blowing for him since he knows how refined MC is and how dedicated she is to her work.

It’s still surprising to him that nobody has tried to sweep her off her feet yet.

With how kind MC is, it would be hard for her to refuse a date with a gentleman.

Lucien gently presses a kiss to MCs hand upon hearing her confession.

Lucien: I am honored to be given the opportunity TO WOO to take such a beautiful lady out on a date~ AND MORE PLEASE

Lucien is the definition of a gentleman shhhh we aren’t speaking of current chapters in the main route Lucien. Cover your eyes. Pretend you do not see.

With little to no anxiety showing on his face after the reveal that he is MCs first love, he insists on taking her out to a nice restaurant the most classy and romantic 5 star restaurant Loveland City has to offer as a way to thank her for dealing with his bs (both his bullshit and black swan hahaha I’m so funny oml) being given the opportunity to treat her as a beautiful young lady should be treated.

He’s also more on the less anxious side of being MCs first love.

Lucien is a traditional man and does stuff by the book.

Because of this, he respects and likes the idea of being MCs first love.

He doesn’t go over the top yet isn’t cliche with dates and little actions.

He knows exactly what to say and when to say it. Though he may struggle with being openly honest about his own thoughts and feelings, he tries his best to express himself for MC. a lot of the time he just assumes talking to her about his personal affairs would bring her down.

This, however, gets better overtime as they continue to date.

They spend a lovely evening at dinner together and take a midnight stroll through the city oh god city stroll PTSD

He gently wraps his jacket around her bare shoulders with a soft smile as he thanks her once again for believing in him believing he is worthy of her

Bonus:

Shaw:

Shaw, smirking: Is that so?

Oohhhhh you know what that smirk does to me. DOWN BOY D O W N.

He’s surprised but his reaction is very mutual.

His internal thoughts are more on the line of “Hmm I’m her first boyfriend, aye?” and “OYA OYA”

He very likely most definitely places his hand on the wall beside her head and leans in closely to get a reaction from her as he growls,

Shaw: So that means you really like me, yeah? I’m making this way too hot gdi. Shaw stans please enjoy your food

MC looks up to see that same playful smirk resting on his face.

highkey don’t know how to respond because Im just “ok think of 3 things she would probably say and go from there” while my brain just computer error sound

MC: and what about yourself? I’m sure there are tons of girls throwing themselves at you yet you choose me.

He pulls away and places his hands in his pockets with a chuckle.

Shaw: I’ve had my fair share before.

iVe HaD mY fAiR sHarE bEfoRe MY ASS

I’m convinced he’s had one time things with girls purely for information or he isn’t the least bit interested in relationships because he thrives on stimulation and entertainment and nOboDy iS gOoD eNouGh plus he literally asks what people do on dates when taking mc out in his first date in game SO

Either way, this is a LIE. The man can’t relationship for the life of him so he has no RIGHTS to tease her.

Just let him believe or you can try to tease him about it in hopes of getting a little pouty face out of him.

Honestly, their first date would just be the first date we got in the game and nobody can convince me otherwise.

Shaw is a wild child and doesn’t care for romantic dates. at least that’s what he wants you to think

A little insight on his character: He’s very blunt and easily pushes people away all the while keeping them close enough to gather intel. He doesn’t get emotionally attached to anyone and makes sure it’s mutual on both ends. Personal relationships only drag him down, especially in his line of work. He prioritizes other things before relationships which makes him so damn FRUSTRATING BUT I SWEAR I WILL CRACK YOU OPEN LIKE A WALNUT JUST YOU WATCH ME.

With that being said, after actually being in a relationship with MC for a while and opening up about their personal lives more, Shaw can be very romantic. He may be awkward for a bit at first since he literally doesn’t know what a date is but he gets there eventually.

He’s still full of fun but is also very gentle and makes sure MC is enjoying herself.

I got sidetracked with the actual HC on this one but Shaw stans need food I NEED FOOD

[wellfine]

Hey so I rambled for like a million words on Sanji’s and Zoro’s and a little bit of Luffy’s characterisation re: living for the sake of other people vs. yourself inspired by @eastdemons recent very good character analysis so I tucked it behind a read-more to spare you all

(WCI spoilers)

realised/remembered that Sanji as a child went seamlessly from being born to exist for the sake of others (his biological family), to wanting desperately to exist for the sake of others but being rejected and treated as though his very existence were a nuisance no matter how hard he tried, to finally finding a sort of unspoken crude acceptance with the Baratie and Zeff which was conditional (in his own mind) on him existing for their sake instead, that he finally had a target to project his rejected desire to be useful onto, to finally have a reason to exist and a tangible benefit he could point to - “if I weren’t here, then the Baratie wouldn’t run as smoothly, cook so nicely, defend itself so strongly”

and sure, tethering himself to that one floating restaurant meant he could never actually go out and achieve his own dreams but he was used to that, he had already accepted from childhood that his life never belonged to him, that he existed for the sake of others and self-sacrifice was naturally a part of that to the point he didn’t even consider it “sacrifice” any more but rather just the natural order of his birth. Like how you know to queue at the supermarket because that’s what your parents taught you. I don’t know if he ever even would’ve registered on a conscious level that that’s how he thought of himself? You could argue that a lot of the Straw Hats (maybe even all of them, in their own way) believe that sacrificing yourself is "natural” to do when your convictions are on the line, like Luffy’s acceptance of his fate at Loguetown, but Sanji’s is different. The Straw Hats might say, “it’s only natural to risk yourself for what you believe in,” but Sanji believes “it’s only natural that I would sacrifice myself for others.” The others all may have a sort of “put your money where your mouth is” attitude towards self-preservation (even Usopp and Nami), but moreso than any others I think Sanji says “no, the rest of you, sit down. None of you get to sacrifice yourselves, that’s foolish. Only I may die for the drama of it all”

So even at age 19 it’s not until Sanji meets the Straw Hats that he even considers the choice of living his life for himself, based on what he wants, and not what others want or need from him. Like obviously he cared about Zeff and the Baratie and he did genuinely want to see it succeed, but it wasn’t his life’s goal. He was trying to make it his life’s goal but you could see the look on his face when he talked about All Blue and traveling for his own sake. And then a bunch of smelly weird pirates crash into their restaurant and confront him with the idea that “hey, you know, your life belongs to you, and you actually have, you know, CHOICES you can make, and it’s okay for you to prioritise your own goals and live your life the way YOU want to”

You could argue that this is a recurring theme with all the Straw Hats - “personal freedom” is probably one of, if not the most prominent theme in One Piece - where most of the crew has felt like they’ve been held back from living the life they want to lead before joining the Straw Hats. Some were held back by external influences (Nami with the Arlong Pirates and Marines, Robin with the Marines again, Brook by Hogback), some by personal obstacles (Usopp’s struggles with his own cowardice, and fear of leaving the comfort of his seemingly safe village for the risk but allure of the sea). There were other members who were held back by a sense of social obligation, too - Chopper to Dr. Kureha and his memories of Hiluluk, Franky to Galley-La in general, the Franky Family, and his memories of Puffing Tom - but those were also slightly different. Chopper, who was still just a kid, all things considered, needed “permission” from his parental figure to leave home, and Franky, conversely, needed to be sure that his adoptive family-figures would be fine on their own. Sanji and Zeff obviously have a father-son relationship but Sanji didn’t need Zeff’s specific permission or approval, nor did he need reassurance that the Baratie would be okay without him - because he already KNEW he had both those things. Zeff is implied to have been trying to get Sanji to leave for a long time. What Sanji really needed was someone to tell him that he would be okay. That he could exist outside of the construct by which he defined his existence (his usefulness to Zeff and the Baratie). That this was a thing he was allowed to do. That God wouldn’t smite him where he stood if he dared to get out of bed in the morning for his own sake, and not someone else’s. And that came from meeting the Straw Hats - all of them, but Zoro a little bit more, and Luffy most of all.

Of course he still struggles with that even after joining the Straw Hats LMAO and the poor dude has a self-sacrificial streak longer than his legs. But now I’m gonna pivot into talking about how Zoro and Sanji contrast against each other in this exact regard

Of all the Straw Hats, Zoro (and I’m still not 100% up to date with the current Wano happenings so maybe we have more insight into why Zoro is the way he is but I still don’t think it could totally disrupt anything I’m about to say) is the person who is least able to identify with where Sanji is coming from but also somehow, the most?? Because Zoro is a paradox of both living fully and wholly for himself in the moment but also being someone who has dedicated his entire life to living out someone else’s dream. Like, yeah, it’s his dream, too, but it’s been made clear throughout the series that the force behind his terrifying drive is his oath to Kuina, not just his own desire to be the strongest swordsman.

But I’m not sure Zoro sees a distinction there? And I’m not sure it’s even relevant to make the distinction in the first place? Kuina has passed away, so Zoro’s own interpretation of what her dream would’ve been, how to fulfil it, and what their promise to each other means is, essentially, his own free will. Often times in fiction when you see a character living in another character’s memory they basically model themselves around what they think the other person would’ve done, but not Zoro. He doesn’t model his fighting style after Kuina’s (quite the opposite). He doesn’t train how he thinks she would’ve trained. He even went ahead and defined the parameters of their “dream” all on his own - defeating Mihawk (is that how Kuina would’ve defined “becoming the strongest swords[wo]man”?). He is, undeniably, living life however it naturally occurs to him and pursuing whatever he wants to pursue.

But Kuina is still also undeniably a fixture in his life. He still wields her sword (fingers crossed for Wano). He still thinks of her and is still driven by the bond and oath they shared when they were younger, and he still considers her father to be his mentor. He would say that he wants to become the strongest swordsman because it is his dream and also because he’s doing it for Kuina, and they would both be independently true.

And so all of this culminates into Zoro not understanding Sanji’s perspective one tiny little bit, lmao. You’d think he would because on the surface they both live for another person’s sake but when you get deeper into it they’re opposites, as is usually the way with those two. Sanji is someone who presents himself as a “lone wolf”, sort of - the strong, cool, independent “Mr. Prince” who is often separated from the other characters, working on his own. But he’s not. He defines his entire existence by his utility to others and the capacity for his sacrifice to them. That’s why he keeps TRYING to sacrifice himself for others even when it’s pretty unnecessary lmao. And Zoro is someone who readily claims to be living his life for the sake of another person, but then doesn’t give a second thought to how that person might have lived their life. He can live his own life while also living FOR someone else. That’s not a contradiction at all in his mind. Zoro has made it no secret that he would leave the Straw Hats if he had to in order to pursue his own dreams and I genuinely still think he would, as loyal as he is to Luffy (which, btw, Luffy would unequivocably support).

And so it’s why Sanji can’t understand why Zoro would fight against Mihawk knowing that he would lose, because in that moment Zoro was living blisteringly for his own sake and nothing else, because throwing yourself into a fight you KNOW you will lose simply because it’s what you WANT is the culmination of “living your own life”. To Sanji, that makes no sense, because Zoro could still live and be useful to others. Sanji completely understands dying to protect others and so thinks dying because of your own resolutions would be a “waste”. And it’s why Sanji left so easily in WCI, and why Zoro couldn’t/can’t understand that, because to Sanji it made sense in what he still believed to be true in his mind - that he ultimately only existed to be useful to others, and that his brief sojourn with the Straw Hats had been fun, but that leaving them would be inevitable, because it was too “selfish” on his part to dare to live life for himself and that the universe would correct itself eventually. He still thought that it was wrong of him to live his own life. He still, on some level, thought that his life belonged to someone else. And at least, like this, he could save the people he actually cared about (the Straw Hats) along the way, making the best of a foregone conclusion, in his mind. I genuinely think even after everything the SHs went through together it wasn’t until he saw Luffy still waiting for him that it finally clicked in Sanji’s mind that he was the sole owner of his own life and that he had a choice in what he dedicated it to.

Speaking of Luffy, I think he 100% lives his own life for himself only, even more than Zoro - he sacrifices himself for others, but only because he wants to because he personally likes those people, not because he thinks it’s the “right” thing to do - but I also think he deeply understands and appreciates Sanji’s mentality in a way that Zoro doesn’t/can’t. I think Luffy learned from Shanks that the way you act/the things you do have a broader impact on the world around you, and so living life “for yourself” is something you have to do mindfully and consciously of how that will affect other people. And I think he learned about the idea of being expected to live for the purpose of others from Sabo and Ace, and the subsequent rejection of that idea. So he fully embraces the notion of living your life for yourself only, but he does so being aware of the implications that has for the other people in your life.

I don’t know if this makes any sense or if it’s still coherent at this point I have written (checks) almost 2000 words about one piece and I’m a litte embarrassed but you know what I'm just gonna hit ‘publish’ without proof reading thanks for coming to my TED Talk i’m sorry if any of these paragraphs just stopped mid-sentence as I hopped to finish off some other sentence

[thesimperiuscurse]

ALL OF THEM. For Eva

🍁 Where does your OC go when they need to have some time to themselves? Would they ever have their own “comfort corner” filled with all the things they like? Do they have a favourite spot outside that feels like its theirs and theirs alone?

Eva rarely seeks time alone. Her profession means that much of her time is dedicated to working by herself, but she’s very much extroverted and prefers to be in the lively company of loved ones. If she’s in distress, her first reaction is to reach out for her family, especially her mother Cherry, which is where she finds the most comfort. There are many places she loves in the wilds of California, and the ocean is where she can always find peace, but even then she doesn’t feel like there’s a spot where she can be truly alone—the birds and deer and the murmuring of trees are as conversational company as any. 

🍂 Does your OC enjoy hugs? What do they do as a show of affection for: their friends, their family, their significant other(s) or for strangers? Over all what are they like with receiving affection from others?

Although in the professionalism of ballet she comes off as a steely and work-obsessed person, she’s cuddly with those she trusts. She gives hugs freely to all her friends and family, who in general are openly affectionate, so that’s just the way she grew up. Her ‘love language’ is physical affection. 

🌻 What little things do they notice about people or the world around them that make them happy? What tiny little treasures do they find in the normal every day that makes the world seem a little brighter for them?

She finds an infinite number of beautiful and simple things in nature—the blueness of the sky, the smell of the earth after rain, the soft whisper of the ocean washing back and forth across sand. Living in the city only amplifies her senses in picking out the tiny signs of emerald life amongst the hard urbanscape. She is far less likely to notice such little things of beauty in people, because frankly she cares more about nature than humanity, but that is until she met Mako. She notices more tiny details about him than she'd care to admit, like the way he always blushes when she says something nice to him, or how his dimples twinkle whenever he’s happy. 

🌾 Describe your OC through the eyes of someone absolutely head-over-heels in love with them.

There’s a radiance to her that feels like the golden summer sun, the dawn that rises from every night, breathtaking; she has an infectious energy and unabashed joy that has the extraordinary ability to bring smiles to people’s faces, far more than she realises; an open kindness and gentleness to her touch unlike anyone else; life, passion, freedom, love, strength, beauty, courage, light, everything that he is not. 

💐 How does your OC handle being unwell or forced to rest in bed? Who cares for them and in what ways? Does your OC enjoy being doted on or are they a terrible patient? Reversed: is your OC good at taking care of others who are ill or in need?

She hates being sick. Anything that slows her down, brings her below her painstakingly achieved peak athletic performance, frustrates her greatly. She rarely catches trivial illnesses like colds due to her hardened immune system, but when she injured her Achilles Heel the previous year, she was forced to stop dancing and rest, which she handled really badly. Her temper dropped sharply to the point of lashing out. In terms of taking care of other people, she doesn’t consider herself as a particularly tender and gentle care-giver (her mom and sister Fawn are the fussy doters in the family) but later on she may surprise herself. 

🌿 What way does your OC show that they care without using words? What way do others show your OC that they’re cared about without using speech?

Eva does have trouble articulating her feelings through words (at least, in an eloquent way) so she almost always communicates love through physical touch. This ranges from absentminded fingertip-brushes and shoulder bumps to baby koala cuddling. In reverse, Mako also has difficulty with verbal expression (though for another reason than being linguistically challenged) and over the past few chapters has been slowly learning how to return affection in their own wordless language. 

🌳 What is your OC’s favourite way to relax after a stressful day? Do they have a favourite book to curl up with? A hobby? Or do they have a nice bubble bath and have an early night to bed?

Almost every day is physically stressful for her, because dancing up to eight hours on end really does a number on her legs. As both the Nationals and academy production draws closer, she has to spend more time on caring for her health, so in the final hour of each night she relaxes with an ice bath for her calves and a long shower, soothing balms massaged into her muscles followed by heat packs, precious time chatting with her family, and then conks right out to sleep.  

🌲 How deeply does your OC feel? Are they typically empathetic or do they have a hard time connecting with others in this way? What are they like when offering support and comfort to someone they care for?

Eva is deeply empathetic, even more than Misha. She is capable of absorbing and feeling emotions as viscerally as if they were her own, which stems from her growing up amongst nature, listening deeply to all the movements and patterns of the earth. However, unlike Misha, she doesn’t have the social intelligence / self awareness to always understand the emotions or control her reactions to them. Her tunnel vision can mean that she’s often too preoccupied with herself to notice what's going on with other people. Her sympathy also has a very short rein. 

🌺 What does your OC do to calm down when they’re scared or after a nightmare? Do they have any special comfort items or need to be reassured by a specific person? How do they handle this if they’re alone?

She’s not a fearful person and never gets nightmares, but there are occasional times when she can get extremely stressed due to complications in ballet. Again, she’s always reassured by her parents. Since she’s a bit far away from them now, the steady quiet of her partner is a calming influence. She’s never been alone in her life, so in that case... we shall see. 

🥀 How would your OC decorate a notebook or journal? What kind of things are written in there? Could you give an example of a nice entry?

She doesn’t have the patience to keep a journal. Tried once when she was a kid, kept it for three days, and never touched it again. 

🌼 Who are this characters friends and found family? How did they meet, how long have they been friends for, could they ever be something more than just friends? What do they look for in a friend or a romantic partner?

Her best friends are Mako, Sasha, Piper, and Misha, and they’ve all been a tight-knit group of friends for one semester now. They are actually her first close friends out of her extended family, because her competitive nature and differences from ballet traditions always made her a bit of a loner, despite her natural friendliness. In the professional setting she spends most of her life in, she’s never on the lookout for making friends, and romantic partner wise, she’s never cared for that either. 

💫What is your favourite fact about this character and why?

I really like her sensory depth. The strength of which she feels things and her constant movement is enjoyable to write. 

☄️ Does this OC deserve better treatment from you? Do you make them suffer just a little bit too much? Be nice to them!

I have been super nice to her... so far. She’s sailing high on competition wins and lead roles right now, which isn’t to say she isn’t suffering for it, but she’s used to being the best and has become comfortable in that position. 

🌠 On a scale of 1 - 10 how baby is your OC? 

She is a hardcore and mature person for her age, as the intensity of pre-professional ballet required her to grow up fast. However, she does have a childish streak that shines through when she’s very excited, and most vividly in the safe calm of her partner. Her peak baby moments are when she’s sleepy or cold and half-consciously snuggles as deep as she can into Mako’s arms. She’s also dumb as fuck but lets not count that. 4/10. 

💦 If you as the writer could erase one traumatic event from this OC’s life what would it be and why?

There haven’t been any traumatic events in her life yet, because she’s been sheltered by her parents, who try their best not to let their own traumatic pasts cycle into their children. I think that’s the key difference between Eva and her partner, and the very different ways they deal with their very similar ballet-centric lives. 

[ourladyofomega]

Summer of 2006. I waited to take the trip to Philadelphia for a month to see Sleater-Kinney since my former ‘friend’ and fellow DJ D-Klein offered tickets for people to go with him. We had no idea who else would be playing up until then. With us was Elizabeth, D-Klein’’s friend and a huge Sleater-Kinney fan. And off we went to Philadelphia in a sweltering partly cloudy 95* day.

We travel through Coney Island when out of nowhere D-Klein and Elizabeth decide to stop at Astroland to ride the Cyclone. It put the trip on pause like a video game to take a spontaneous time out. But they enjoyed themselves, and why not? I wasn’t going to keep them.

We then drive through the Verrazano Bridge, then Staten Island and through New Jersey. I see all the industrial areas, petrol-storage facilities, the many rest stops, restaurants, and Sunocos lining the New Jersey Turnpike. Last time I checked, the Sunocos averaged no more than $3.05 a gallon. The music played nothing but, you guessed it, Sleater-Kinney, a taste to what to expect. So Olympian, so Kill Rock Stars. Also on the player was D-Klein spinning almost the ntire X-Ray Spex CD as well. We finally arrive in the Philadelphia outskirts at around 6:30 PM and shortly thereafter we cut through Chinatown. I didn’t know Philadelphia even had a Chinatown, but the three of us riding around assumed this was where we would go for some sushi.

Eventually we drive past the venue and see the young Philadelphia hipsters do nothing but stand in line waiting for the show to start and others walking the Philly streets towards the venue as well. We park in front of the bistros and tables and chairs set up on the sidewalks of Philly. At this point we still had no idea who else was playing other than Sleater-Kinney.

We choose Swanky Bubbles, a champagne and sushi bar. For a small eatery it was pretty neat with well-lit ambience and matching low-volume music to go with it. Me, D-Klein, and Elizabeth sit down and talk about the difference between the Philadelphia and Long Island punk scenes, some college student economics, party appearances, and other fine places to eat over our sushi dinner. We order between us wasabi mashed potatoes, a lychee drink, six spears of buttered asparagus salted with parmesan cheese, and sushi rolls such as California, Tuna, Philly, Spider Leg, Time Bomb, and Double Dragon (wasn’t that a video game?); and for dessert, a crispy Thailand banana split. $110.00 was the bill. Sold.

We walk back to the venue and the valet parking guy allowed us to park right in front of the entrance. It was now Club Polaris, formerly the Starlight Ballroom. We get there and find people with extra tickets to give away or sell. In the meantime, we hang out with the organizer of the venue. D-Klein was talking to him about the past shows of yester-years and decades ago. The promoter informs us that Clear Channel was trying to buy out both their venue and Philly scene. It’s depressing to think that Clear Channel would buy out the punk, indie-rock, and hardcore kids and tell them to fuck off so that Clear Channel can put their clean, polished, packaged industry acts in there, with no other outlets for these kids to go who call the streets their own. How we thought that pretty soon, the scene could implode with nowhere to go and be swallowed up into nothing. Where else would we go but further down?

It was when we stand in front of the Polaris waiting to get in that we heard music from inside the venue. We all finally find out to our surprise from the organizer the band was sharing the bill with Sleater-Kinney:

…The Roger Sisters.

Me and D-Klein were floored and it was then we knew that a great show was already going to become even greater.

We go in and this truly was the scene the magazines always talked about. Guys dressing hardcore, some moppy, some Napolean Dynamite cartoonish, and some slim t-shirts. The girls were pretty cute as well with their art-school haircuts, skirts, funny tees, piercings, and either Olympia-type or Williamsburg-type super-feminist style. Imagine makeoutclub ever having a meeting center.

Polaris was dark and crowded. All around us were many bars to get beer. There were many booths where kids sat around and mostly in groups drinking beers and water. (Remember, this was during a heat-wave. The Eastern board was hit with 90 degree-plus weather with lots of humidity). Some were quiet, arms crossed and minding their own. Others were very delighted to see each other and were greeted with hugs and kisses. We witnessed a couple of lesbians making out as well. And you had to give it to one fan who came to the show in a wheelchair.

The ballroom, as expected, was huge with lots of standing space. When the three of us got there, the front of the standing room was taken up but we managed to make our way about ten feet from the speakers, with a very lucky few who took a spot standing right under the vent. We had a good view to see the Rogers Sisters perform. Miyuki Furtado (bass / vocals) dedicated a song to Spiro Agnew, but took it back and later dedicated it to Condoleezza Rice. Jennifer Rogers (vocals / guitar) applied her lip gloss to prepare for the end of their set. Miyuki whipped himself around in a frenzy, performing sonic guitar tricks and creating feedback for all of us. We literally see the sweat and mist come off of his forehead. Laura Rogers (drums / vocals) whipped herself into a frenzy, too. The set lasted only 45 minutes but it was a good set. As we didn’t even know that the Rogers Sisters would play, it was no loss and all gain. Everyone wins.

The three of us hit the merchandise tables. I score Sleater-Kinney’s self-titled CD for $15.00 and I wanted to get some Rogers Sisters stuff but no one was at the tables yet. We sit around taking in all this humidity and heat observing the scene for a little bit more before we hit the merch- tables again where Miyuki and Laura finally set shop. A d.i.y. ethic. For $7.00 I grabbed three 7” singles from the Sisters who came off as very nice and gracious people. Elizabeth scores a Roger Sisters CD and matching Sleater-Kinney tees for her and her friend.

What hooked me to the Rogers Sisters was that I discovered them on WUSB’s Riot Grrrl Plus show in Summer 2003 and happened to record “I’m A Ballerina” on tape. And every chance I had I aimed to play them on the air. Why not? I figured people can be art-smart from getting into them. Bonus.

Sleater-Kinney finally came to play for a good 90 minutes. I believe D-Klein’s life has now culminated into this one night: he’s a huge fan who never had failed to play them on his show on a consistent basis (and he’s known to do that with Sonic Youth as well). Without him he wouldn’t have made this attempt to see them one last time.

One last time? Yes, Sleater-Kinney would finally call it quits after eleven years of making Kill Rock Stars a lot of money. This was their last tour and The Woods was their final record. They had to go out with style big time.

They came on and it was deafening. These ladies knew how to rock. Listen to the way they sound as theirs was rivaled by no other. Mid-set, Carrie Brownstein and Corin Tucker faced off and play their guitars towards each other and it was amazing. I was taken over. For 90 minutes I was trying to follow and absorb everything that Sleater-Kinney performed. Janet throws drumsticks and Carrie shakes out water bottles at the crowd to cool themdown. Fans screamed for them to keep going, not to go. They really loved this band that truly represented the indie-rock crowd and grrrls / femmes in general. One guy even ran on stage and urged the crowd to get ready to catch him up as he was about to stage-dive. He jumps off and instead lands on his feet. Sorry, Charlie. It’s not how it goes here at a Sleater-Kinney show.

After a while, they walk off-stage and fans just did not want to get it, so they stand there cheering and clapping heavily for five minutes more. And yes, they came back to play a few more songs, some off of The Woods. And that’s all she wrote in Philadelphia. An extended ovation as one-by-one Sleater-Kinney walks off-stage and acknowledge their fans with handshakes and smiles.

I don’t know about D-Klein or Elizabeth, but my head was about to explode. Throbbing. My entire body dripping of sweat, my shirt damp from the humidity. We leave Polaris and start driving home, a very exhausting three-hour drive compounded by listening to more Sleater-Kinney, X-Ray Spex and now The Rogers Sisters, taking home a still-pounding headache and wonderful memories from the last day of July that year.