#i also want to commission characters i think would suit that person's style

[milkybishop]

i might begin my renaissance patron era, just start commissioning people left and right

[badkitty3000]

what kind of clothes do you think five would like on his s/o?? what casual clothes would he like for himself?? ik we saw a bit in s3 but i need more vest five😭😭

So, as usual, I feel like I can go a couple different ways with this answer, but I'm going to mostly focus on my own personal headcanon version or we're going to be here all day. In my own little Five world, he's a uniform guy. He wore a uniform as a kid in the academy, he wore a (I assume) company-issued suit in the Commission, again with the academy uniform, and then when he actually had a bit of a choice he got to relax in his retirement clothes for about 12 hours before it was back to business again, and then...suit. So, to me, this is just easier for him. He doesn't have to think about what to wear every day, matching colors, and shopping for new clothes. He is stylish, yet practical, and it's clear that looking put together is a priority for him. After wearing whatever he could get his hands on in the apocalypse, and having to dress for extreme weather, it's probably a luxury for him to be able to dress the way he wants. But there's also a second, very important reason for this headcanon of mine and that is....HAVE YOU SEEN HIM IN A FUCKING SUIT!!???

*wiping drool off my chin* Sorry, I don't know what came over me.

Ok, as I was saying...it is also a headcanon of mine that once he's finally settled down, maybe married, has a family, etc, his casual outfits consist of jeans and a plain black t-shirt. This is his new "uniform" and again, it's stylish but he doesn't have to think about it. He wears this every day, unless he's going out somewhere nice or maybe having to perform a random assassination, then it's back to the suit. (also, if you're wondering, and I'm sure you are...black boxer briefs...always).

Now, retirement Five in his little hat and vest is adorable, don't get me wrong, and is much more in line with his character's age and personality than how I write him. I could totally see him embarrassing his kid by showing up to their softball game in black socks and sandals, wearing his dorky weird old-man glasses.

I could also see him wearing a sweatshirt with the name of his kid's school on the front and "Hargreeves" on the back. Oh my god, let's just stop and imagine that for a moment, shall we?😭😭😭

You also asked about what he would like his s/o to wear. I covered this a little in my nsfw headcanons, but I'll elaborate a little more. I definitely think he checks ladies out. Dancers, strippers, random women at the grocery store; I think deep down Five is a sex-starved freak that has a lot of lost time to make up for. However, even though a nice body and skimpy clothes is going to catch his attention, that's not really what he cares about. He would be just as happy with his girl in frumpy sweatpants and a baggy t-shirt as he would be with her in a tight cocktail dress. Now, given the choice, if you were really going to press him on it, I'd say he would want to see her in a tight skirt that shows off her ass and tall heels to accentuate her legs. But again, it doesn't really matter what she wears, he's going to think she's the prettiest/sexiest woman on the planet regardless. And ketchup-stained sweatpants and a Garfield shirt are just as easy to tear off and throw on the floor as a tight dress is. 😉

I do think Five would take time and try and find and buy something for his s/o for her birthday or Christmas that he knows she would like. He would pay attention to her style and if he was out somewhere and came across an outfit, or hat and scarf, or even lingerie that reminded him of her, he'd buy it and then watch expectedly and nervously as she opened it in front of him. Then he would be so happy every time she would wear it, even though he'd pretend he was too cool to notice. He took the time to make sure Dolores was going to get a new outfit and knew she liked sequins, so that just proves he actually pays attention to what his girl likes.

In conclusion, I think Five wants to be stylish, comfortable, and practical with his clothes, while not having to think too hard about it on a daily basis. He has much more pressing matters to deal with, and even though wearing a three-piece suit while trying to kick ass and save the world is a bit impractical...

I MEAN GOOD LORD JUST LOOOOK!!!! 🫦👀💀

Thank you so much for this question! ❤️

[sageourplanetmeow]

Indie Animations I Recommend

Haven’t posted in a while since, as I have said, my Apple Pencil broke and I haven’t been able to work on commissions or that one hazbin hotel animation… which I was actually getting through for once. Also I have fallen into a Varian And The Seven Kingdoms obsession.

Anyhow I shall now take the chance to share a couple indie animations I’ve watched/been watching recently possibly with a brief note about what kind of audience would enjoy it (might not be accurate I dunno)

First and foremost The Epilogue Of Endings which released approximately 12 hours ago as of when I’m writing this. And just before I summarise anything I just want to praise this pilot for HOW AMAZING IT IS DESPITE ITS SMALL BUDGET! The animation is fantastic and I swear something about it makes me so happy. The art style is also amazing (in my opinion) and suits the character designs perfectly. I love the character designs, just saying, and the voice acting is superb. I think my favourite designs from it are Blu (because I mean the mask and metal arms are pretty damn cool) and the ————. I won’t say who they are because the reveal is too good to miss, but you might be able to guess who I’m talking about if you’ve watched it.

Now to say what happens. This takes place after the sun ya know, goes. I think I’m probably the most interested by what exactly is going on with Mole but I think my favourite character thus far is Blu. I suggest you go watch it, it’s very cool. I think if you like Indie animation in general then this is a good pic due to its indie feel (positive). Also would suggest to people who enjoy slightly creepy media (it’s not that creepy in my opinion but it does feature the downfall of humanity and what happens after the sun dies so it’s slightly unsettling, it masters that feeling).

And here’s their Kickstarter

We also have Dreamworld which also has a season 2, I’m just linking the first one though so just so you know you can find the second season on the channel. As said by the creator, it borrows certain tropes/aspects from analogue horror and has animatronics. As it says up there it is a sci-fi horror series that is intended to be accessible to younger fans of the genre. Again, I love the story and the character designs. So far, my favourite character and character design belongs to THE Star Light. I’m starting to see a theme with me liking sun/moon/star themed animatronics. I mean this guy has a BOW TIE and a charming smile. If I wasn’t already dressing up as Varian for Halloween then I think I would’ve looked into trying to dress as Star Light.

The pilot hasn’t released but the animation from this teaser is SO GOOD! I’m excited to see the pilot. There’s also been music/songs released by them, I can’t remember if I’ve gotten around to listening to any but I fully intend on doing so.

I’m sorry but how is the animation this good with only one person animating it (I might’ve gotten that wrong). I find the character designs really cool and the art style is fun. They’re in space. The voice acting is good. Also just gonna say, they have merch.

This is Dungeon Flippers, a fantasy real-estate cartoon following Maulie, a manticore. (I copied and shortened down the description of the YouTube channel)

The animation is great and the voice acting is really good. The story is interesting and The Ace Of Wands Theme is a joy to listen to every time.

I don’t know how to describe the plot but lemme just… the animation deserves praise, it suits the vibe of the pilot and the character designs are amazing. Voice acting is also fun and I’d recommend this even if it’s just sea side/coast vibes you’re looking for.

This one is a YouTube channel that posts OC animatics and has posted Sundrop and Moondrop animations, just saying I think they drew the Sun and Moon Q&A comics soooo that was my introduction to their work.

Just watch this and you will see some PEAK animation.

Again, the animation is awesome.

https://youtu.be/XPE3nTxV2_k?si=Rgd5yBL9_B-Fl5i7

And that’s where the video limit comes, alas, but check it out. It’s by Meppity and has some really good paper looking animation.

And this is where we have the indie animated stuff (I consider it that at least) centred around pre-existing shows.

I myself am looking forward to making my own indie animated stuff or comics (I haven’t really decided, I’m just working on different characters whilst also writing fanfics and drawing fan comics and other art stuff on top of art homework. YAY

Here is one… dated… animation I did a year ago which took me a while.

https://youtu.be/jmteRdRgHWI?si=o-p-l9gheLSkw7Xr

It’s for an OC, but with their old design. The new design has a satchel, otherwise nothing changed to be honest. I also have done another animation which was far more rough but it was me animating whilst seeing who would win the election so it’s political and not about any of my ocs or any actual characters. As I said, I already have another animation in the works for Alastor so I have to wait till my Apple Pencil gets fixed or replaced to continue working on it.

[riacte]

Re: Dearly Beloved in-universe fandom, it struck me that I have somehow never mentioned in-universe superhero/villain/whatever fanart despite fanart being such a core (and more importantly visible) component of fandom. (While mentioning fanfiction, subreddits, touching on fancams and ASMR roleplays etc etc) And I guess it makes sense because this is text, I don't really know they look like, and it's hard to describe visuals given the format I've constrained myself to. But I also feel like this blind spot has to do with other fandom-related meta lol. (Self indulgent and long rambling)

1. Superheroes/villains are classified as "real people". In real life fandoms, while there's fanart of famous real people (actors in movies, singers, Kpop groups, athletes, F1 drivers, etc), there's less fanart compared to fanart of characters (anime, video games, books, etc). I assume this is because you need to have a certain level of skill to capture a real person's likeliness nicely. And real people may feel offended upon seeing "bad" fanart of themselves, whereas fictional people can't feel offended.

But superheroes/villains are masked and often wear helmets for safety. So you don't need the skill to draw their real life faces. Their suits are probably visually distinctive which makes it fun to draw (and cosplay!).

2. Superheroes/villains aren't just famous real people. There's a political connotation, in which it could be dangerous to support villains and people may not like heroes because they're like fantasy cops with powers. Especially in this context in which the government controls the heroes, there's whole system to raise heroes from children, there's censorship and conspiracies. Bringing to the third point:

3. Fanart is a very visual. (No shit, Sherlock.) Okay, in the sense people outside of the fandom are more likely to encounter fanart. It's also a publicly liked form of fandom, in comparison to fanfiction. I guess edits and cosplay are also liked and respected, but probably less common than fanart. (Insert something about my positionality as a fan of MCYT who writes fanfic, something about MCYT loving fanart and including it in their videos, commissioning artists, whereas fanfic (rightfully and thankfully imo) stays underground) So people who write hero RPF are already seen as "weirdos" and "the corner of the Internet you shouldn't see". It's not taken seriously. But if someone posted hero fanart on Twitter, normies would see this as liking / endorsement of said hero, whereas fanfiction would not get this kind of visibility. (And is shunned upon probably no matter what you write because fanfiction is generalised is "weird thing Wattpad teenage girls do when they want to bang a famous person".)

3.1. Back to the MCYT fandom thing. Heroes/villains can be compared to MCYT since they look different on and off camera (with and without their suits, like Minecraft skins and designs), they use different names for their different identities, and they put on a public persona. Similarly, I can imagine heroes finding fanart of their hero persona flattering and occasionally engaging with it on Twitter. (Whereas fanfiction stays underground.)

3.2. So I loveeee parodying the "cringe" Wattpad fics, not because I want to make fun of them, but because it's enjoyable to write without restraint. (And it's funny.) I think the general style is so unapologetically fun (and nostalgic). I have a lot of things to say about Wattpad (in defence of its users!), but it mostly boils down to young people being excited and earnest. I know a lot of people hate Wattpad, especially its RPF. I find it fascinating. Because someone (often tweens) had to be motivated to write that, someone had to have the passion to do it, and they'll do it badly (knowingly or not), because writing as a hobby is supposed to be fun! It's the essence of it! And it's the "bad" kind of fanfiction that I want to pay respect to. The kind that people look upon with disdain. The kind YouTubers make fun of. Because more often than not it's a thirteen year old being silly/stupid and it's mean to make fun of kids earnestly trying to make something.

Anyways in the universe, fanfiction sites become a place to store government censored conspiracies/theories because they fly under the radar compared to Reddit and Youtube.

4. I always felt I wanted to write the story instead of Tweetgen-ing it. Maybe it felt more "serious". And mimicing social media with text/HTML is easier than graphics. Now I feel like the utter lack of visuals in a social media fic (when social media is extremely visual, almost obnoxiously so) makes me focus on text itself— dialogue, transcripts, usernames, Tumblr tagging, YouTube comments, notices about subreddits being taken down, to-do lists, "confirm to delete" text boxes. In-universe fanfiction (both the Wattpad and Ao3 type) is taken seriously in the sense it helps with storytelling— it shows differing attitudes to events and public figures. It shows what type of perception is popular.

Anyways. I'm not sure this is interesting and I'm probably rambling inside my head. I guess I do love fanfiction as an art form. And I do admire and respect the earnest writers and readers on Wattpad. I still occasionally wake up to like 30 comments on a Wattpad fic from 4 years ago. I'm glad people still read it lmao.

[fire-of-the-sun]

Speculation on Lotor's Armor

It's time for more unnecessary speculation about Lotor because I miss him. Last time we addressed Lotor's appearance, we talked about what was up with his incredible hair (here), now I'd like to discuss his iconic armor, the potential history behind it and how it services his character.

Even just at first glance in his introductory scene, Lotor clearly stands apart from his fellow Galra and not just due to his features. Even before we see his face, his unique stature and attire speaks volumes about the character we're about to meet as the colors and overall style bears no resemblance to anything we see a typical Galra wear - nor anyone else for that matter - singling Lotor out as a unique and unpredictable individual. So, why does he choose to dress so differently?

One interesting and inescapable truth about Lotor's armor is that it perfectly matches the color scheme of his cat, Kova, to such a specific degree that it can be no accident, so it only makes sense that Lotor himself decided to create or commission a suit to match. But why? Well, given the childhood that Lotor had to endure, it's not hard to imagine the inspiration was simply due to his allegiance to the fellow quintessence-touched creature. A way to honor it as the only true friend and companion he's ever had and the only thing that's ever truly been his or, at least, the one thing he chose for himself. Kova no doubt played a huge role in his lonely life and was probably the only decent thing in it as, for someone who had no real or meaningful connections, this relationship would naturally become incredibly important to him - important enough to showcase visually. In this way, perhaps the decision isn't just a matter of honoring a friend, but also perpetuating his own individuality as defined by his relationship with his cat as something that belongs solely to him.

However, if we dig deeper into this, things get more interesting.

When I was originally writing this meta, I was looking for clues in Lotor's main design that could legitimize the idea that he would have tailored it to honor his Altean side (as he clearly isn't dressed like a Galra), as I think that would make a lot of sense for his character. Unfortunately, there's nothing incredibly obvious in his clothing that matches the aesthetic of the Alteans we see in the show as the style and color palette just don't align. This makes sense, I suppose, given that Lotor would never know exactly how they dressed even if he wanted to emulate them. And then I thought harder about Kova...

Given that he was originally Honerva's pet and she's Altean and therefore is from there as well, one could argue that designing his appearance after Kova was, intentionally or not, reflective of Altean culture to some degree. And if Lotor devised that Kova was originally Honerva's, his signature look could also be a way to remember his mother as well as her culture, both of which he deeply admires and are intrinsically part of himself. At this time, he believes all Alteans to be extinct, making him (and Kova) the sole keepers of their legacy and he chooses to wear that proudly. Ultimately, Kova isn't just his best friend, he's also a connection to his mother and Altea and all the things he holds dear and thus becomes his own personal mascot of sorts.

This decision is also deliciously ironic given that his chosen appearance is simultaneously an unintentional extension of Haggar as well, whom he despises but cannot fully escape. Just as Honerva and Haggar are two halves of the same person and Kova, therefore, belonged to both, the style Lotor chooses is also inextricably a reflection of Haggar just as much as it is Honerva and what they represent to him: corruption as well as purity - which is an interesting contrast in regard to Lotor's character.

Speaking of contrast, it's worth noting that there is, of course, a distinct and purposefully clashing styles between the Galra and Alteans. The former made up of sharp edges and intimidating reds and blacks while the latter is defined by soft shades of blue, gold and pure white. Both designs are successful in respectively encapsulating a race who's known only war and another that promotes peace. With a parent from each, Lotor naturally stands somewhere in between these opposing views both in his internal struggles as well as an outward appearance that doesn't conform perfectly to either. Lotor's style, therefore, is an interesting amalgamation of his roots, an echo of their inherent conflict, and a bold statement to all who see him who he is and where he stands.

So, we have an idea of the inspiration behind the armor, but when did he implement it?

We see in some flashbacks that young Lotor did wear Galran styled clothing. Though he cannot change the reality of his mixed blood, he can try to speak, act and dress as a Galra - all actions that a young prince would be expected to uphold but also probably pushed himself to practice and perfect in order to assimilate himself better into their society and appeal to his father. However, there's a huge unexplored time gap between what we see of Lotor's childhood and him as an adult who has already adopted his very divergent final look with no real explanation. That's why I mainly want to address the flashback in 8x02, as it's the youngest adult version we see of Lotor and marks an influential event that I feel could have had a grander effect with a few tweaks to his design.

At the beginning of the flashback, we see Lotor and Kova together - the proximity affording the audience a strategic reminder of their unmistakably similar color schemes and of their bond. Now, perhaps his appearance remains unchanged here simply to make it easier for the artists and animators so they could avoid designing a new look for him for only one scene, but I personally find it a wasted opportunity to benefit the story further by showing Lotor at a very different point in his life and a different appearance would certainly help reflect that.

Personally, I would have liked to have seen him in more traditional Galran clothing here and maybe even sporting slightly shorter hair - even if only for the selfish desire to see Lotor look somewhat different at some point during the course of the entire show. The hair would help to indicate that he's a little younger here (though we don't actually know how long ago it was) and the traditional armor would supplement the story visually by showing him still bearing some ties to his Galran heritage at this point as he continues to try to prove himself to his father that he is an effective and worthy son. He does want to change things though and help his father see there are other, more merciful ways of reaching their goals and by appearing as a Galra in the best way he can, he could perhaps make his sentiments more palatable.

Of course, things go horribly wrong and this flashback details one of the biggest shifts in Lotor's life. In the span of one scene, he transforms from dutiful Galran prince trying to please his father to exile who has severed all ties to the Galra, all hopes of appealing to Zarkon and is now determined to bring him down. Until this point, Lotor has struggled and failed to be the prince his father and the rest of his people would approve of and changing his entire appearance after his exile would really punctuate his literal and symbolic divergence from the Galra by creating a look and identity all his own with no aesthetic connection to them. Lotor, at last, is taking control over his own life and no longer living in his abuser's shadow. Naturally, the change is openly rebellious - an unmistakable rejection of a culture that rejected him and a slap in the face to all who see him. He's charted his own course and pledged allegiance fully to himself and what he believes in. Lotor's generals are also tasked to wear the same style clothing as him - a clear sign to all who see them to whom they serve.

Of course, there could be other explanations that accommodate the writers need for him to maintain this look:

Perhaps Lotor just changed his look as an angsty teen who wanted to rebel perhaps. My issue with this idea though is that I don't think Zarkon would have approved of him dressing as anything less than a Galran prince is expected to and, as we see of Lotor even as an adult in the flashback, he's still trying to present himself the best he can to his father, and I don't think he'd take the risk of angering him just to feel more independent as Zarkon will use any excuse to punish him. I like to think that Lotor's outburst against his tactics in this flashback is the first real time he's ever rebelled against his father, hence the surprise and severe punishment. Lotor would never want to willingly incur his wrath unless over such an important thing as the lives of others - another reason why I think changing into his final look after his exile is the best narrative choice. Only after being formally expelled from the empire, I imagine, Zarkon would no longer care about seeing Lotor maintain a Galran appearance and would no longer protest to seeing him dressed differently.

Or, maybe he only recently adopted the new look while staying on Ven'tar's planet with Kova for a year. Perhaps, in his first real venture outside of Zarkon's shadow and Galran culture, he became more independent, more self-assured and wanted to adjust his attire to reflect that growth. To make something of himself on his own and define himself as an individual who is open to clothing untethered to just one culture. Maybe this decision was also partially bolstered by his inclination to make the people he's leading feel more comfortable around him as well by presenting himself as different than the other Galra they know and fear. Of course, during his conversation with Zarkon, we also learn that Lotor now knows about his Altean roots and that potentially recent discovery could also have played a role in his desire to alter his appearance (using Kova as his muse) as his time away gave room for him to begin to distance himself from the Galra and begin his exploration into his Altean heritage. Again, though, I don't think Zarkon would naturally approve of seeing him in foreign attire (especially inspired by Altea). He doesn't care about Lotor but he does care about maintaining his image as a Galra prince and projecting the strength and authority that title brings over others as demonstrated in this scene.

Ultimately, regardless of the exact origins, this visual separation from the Galra serves to aid Lotor in his quest to transform the universe by presenting himself as someone who stands apart from the rest of his race and their ruthless ways. He's independent with a unique appearance to match his unique manner of leadership and ideas for the future. Presenting a wholly personal choice of style that acts as a natural extension of himself and a love for his Altean heritage as inspired from the only friend he ever really had.

So, there you have it! That's my unnecessarily long take on why Lotor dresses to match his cat.

[twstgarden]

✦ ❝ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐏𝐄𝐓𝐀𝐋'𝐒 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 ❞

match-up bundle commission for yang

— a purchase of one carnation petal has arrived from our dearest customer. your romantic match has now been determined by the red carnation’s petals.

➻ a romance match-up bundle commission for honkai: star rail. bundle includes the main romantic match, voice lines with the main match and 4 other randomly picked characters, and a paths match. ➻ commissions are open, you may refer to this info post.

— HONKAI: STAR RAIL — 

℘ your romantic match is…

━ 𝙟𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙮𝙪𝙖𝙣 / 景元 ━

➻ the carnation petals have revealed the charming and wise general of the luofu to be your best match. his rather laid-back and kind demeanour would pair well with yours.

➻ he isn't repulsed by the different changes in your personality and can adjust to your moods. one minute, you'll have the coldest demeanour and the next, you're as sweet and gentle as a cloud. he likes that. keeps him on his toes in a good way.

➻ your "resting glare" does not bother him in the slightest. though at first, he would tease you about it, saying "why the angered expression?" followed by a pet name that you prefer to be called by him. other times, he'd ruffle your hair and tell you not to frown too much.

➻ your tendency to wear masculine and/or feminine styles that you claim to confuse people most of the time also includes him - not often, though. at first glance, he wouldn't realise it was you. however, as time passes and he has gotten used to your fashion sense, he'll be able to tell who you are. bonus: he thinks your jirai kei fashion style is adorable.

➻ he appreciates your "no-beating-around-the-bush" / straightforward personality as it saves a lot of time.

➻ your tendency to downplay your feelings and upsetting situations is not missed by the general. he noticed. he knows. and he makes a point to make sure you feel that you are validated and acknowledged. if you feel uncomfortable talking about it, he'll be there to give you support or comfort - whichever you prefer.

➻ overall, you'd have a great relationship with jing yuan. there may be some similarities here and there, but that only makes him feel even more connected with you.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

━ possible matches: ➻ sunday (protective over his loved ones and will make you feel safe and contented) ➻ argenti (romantic and a gentleman ; would treat you wonderfully, perhaps) ➻ dr. veritas ratio (intelligent partner ; might be a great match romantically)

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

℘ you follow the path of…

❝ preservation ❞

— ❝ the philosopher gazes upon the stars trying to find the ultimate goal of civilization — 'build a wall.' a majestic voice echoed in his head. 'build a wall.' ❞ —

➻ those who follow the path of preservation admire patience, sacrifice, and defensive behaviour. your drive to live a life filled with safety and security of not only yourself but also your family and friends makes you a great follower of this path.

➻ an individual who finds beauty and admiration in patience and understanding such as yourself is well suited for the path of preservation. even qlipoth, the aeon of preservation, would cast their gaze on you.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

℘ voice lines

【 jing yuan / 景元 】

❚❚ || about yang

↪ “yang is the kind of person with a lot of secrets and past events to keep. their personality also tends to show just how they were raised under high expectations. well, i always make sure they feel comfortable and safe enough to eventually show their true self...”

【 sampo 】

❚❚ || about yang

↪ “ah, yes! yang! i know them. i have tried to befriend them - no, no, not because i wanted to make dealings with them, not at all. hehe, my friend, they are quite difficult to comprehend, you know?”

【 yanqing / 彦卿 】

❚❚ || about yang

↪ “i've seen them visiting from time to time and at first, i thought they were quite scary since they seem so angry all the time. well, i can say that is not the case now, though.”

【 blade / yingxing / 应星 】

❚❚ || about yang

↪ “i've known yang for a long while. no, they are not one of the three people if that's what you are about to ask. they're far more tolerable to be with. i can say that much. still having the same fashion sense... quite admirable.”

【 argenti 】

❚❚ || about yang

↪ “oh, yes! the one with an interesting closet choice! i have often seen them wear masculine or feminine clothing, and they all look beautiful. it suits them perfectly. what a charming person they are.”

© twstgarden 2024 || please do not steal, translate without my permission, or use this to train a.i.

[yutaan]

Regarding your upcoming commissions, would it be possible for you to say what time on July 2nd they will open? I love your art and don't want to miss it this time. Also, what sorts of information do you want the initial requests to have? Have a wonderful day :)

Hi there, dearest Anon, and thank you for enjoying my stuff! I was thinking 7pm Eastern time.

Info-wise, I generally ask for at least two images of the character, as well as a short written description of their personality. (This does not have to be very long - a few sentences is fine! - but it's very useful for me when trying to keep my drawing of the character, well, in-character.) If you don't have any drawings of the character on hand, that's all right - snagging a few images off of Google and noting "their hair is about this color and worn in this style, their cloak is cut like this but has this sort of trim" etc. works perfectly well.

If commissioning more than one character in the same piece, I also ask for an additional short written description of their relationship with each other.

And, if you have a pose/facial expression/mood in mind, that's good for me to know too! But if you don't have anything specific picked out, no worries - I'm happy to choose a pose I think suits the character. :D

Thanks, dear Anon! I hope you're able to snag a spot!

[pine-niidles]

Looking Back on 2023

Heyyy folks! Long time no news from me huh. 

I'm struggling to think of what to even say about my silence. I've not been doing so bad I'd call myself depressed, but I'm doing a tad worse than just a slump. It's been a rough 6 months, not because of one big thing. Instead, a bunch of medium-sized reasons all piled up on top of each other to leave me extremely drained. I've mostly been working on the two commissions I still had in my queue (thank you to my commissioners for being so patient with me, I'm so sorry to make you wait so long <3). I've done a little personal art other than that but didn't have the leftover focus to keep up with sharing it on social media or writing up any updates about my situation. I've pretty much only been active sharing things in my art discord. I'd like to say I've been doing better in the last month or so, but I hesitate to make any promises at this point! We'll just have to see how things go :)

Artfight

So you were promised a more in depth artfight review but I think I missed the right timeframe for that... instead have this look at 3 years of unfinished artfight thumbnails from my new year's wip clean-out!

Year of Art Summary

All things considered I made a lot of art this year, and I'm really happy with how most of it turned out ☺ I did a bunch of experimenting with more playful techniques and color schemes and I think they suit my style a lot. I want to try and much those limits even more next year to see what kind of fun art I can create! Something with colors specifically really clicked in my brain after that witch drawing I did in April, before then I would spend a long time figuring out the perfect color scheme and doing a bunch of adjustments but ever since that drawing things have really been coming together super quick? I'm not sure what changed but no complaints from me. 

Life Drawing Summary 

I rarely post my life drawing but I've been keeping at it! Actually, I put together a few pdfs showcasing all my life drawing going back to 2022, you can download them for free in my itch or ko-fi shops! :>

I also put together a yearly art improvement comparison going back to 2015 that I was planning to put here. However, seeing how long this is already getting... I'll make a separate post for it.

Commissions

I've been gearing up to open commissions again after that unintended hiatus. I don't want to open slots until I'm sure I'm back to being able to finish them in a reasonable timeframe, so I've been using that leftover energy I do have to think about revamping some things and new styles to offer. Back in November I ran a survey on what people want to see from me (it's still open if you'd like to fill it out and help me get more stats!) 

here's a preview of what's to come based on that & my whims:

- stamp commissions were super well received so they'll be added to my main repertoire

- A combo of me reading too much dun meshi and wanting to offer some kind of comicky commissions led to this idea of comic pages of characters eating together, I have a couple examples in progress, when they're done I'll add this style to my main offerings!

- I'm still not 100% set on sketchpages but I like the idea of them so if this test goes well I'll add them as an option

Onward to 2024! 

I already completed my new year's resolution on day 1 of 2024, it was to pet a cat. I've made a second one which is to get a library card whenever my visa is approved and I move back home. It's been something I've been wanting to do for a while but never got around to, hoping this will be the excuse I need to do it.

Art-wise it's not a new goal, but I've been trying to focus on improving my rendering! Though I've also been playing around a lot with screentone... the two don't have to be at odds 🤔 

I'm dedicating this year's personal art time to making new references for as many ocs as possible with nude bases so I can easily design new outfits for them whenever I want to without fully making a new ref from scratch.

Otherwise I'm just trying to take it slow, work on things one at a time and see what happens from there.

[opscurus]

(( FANFICTION WRITER ASKS || @baiika said: [ 13. What is a common writing tip that you almost always follow? 14. how do you write emotional scenes? Do you ever feel what the characters feel? Do you draw from personal experiences? ]

13) WHAT IS A COMMON WRITING TIP THAT YOU ALMOST ALWAYS FOLLOW?

-- I honestly don't know how to answer that question, but if I had to go with what first pops into my head I would have to say that I don't always rely on dialogue to create a scene or set the mood. I like to think I'm pretty good at using multiple sentences and describing the scene or emotions being displayed to create impact.

14) HOW DO YOU WRITE EMOTIONAL SCENES? DO YOU EVER FEEL WHAT THE CHARACTERS FEEL? DO YOU DRAW FROM PERSONAL EXPERIENCES?

-- emotional scenes are one of my strong suits I feel. I tend to write a lot of my FanFiction pulling from personal experiences because I find characters I can relate to and writing fanfiction about these characters helps me to learn more about my own writing style and how to best employ the writing techniques that I know.

-- also I guess I do feel what my characters feel when I'm writing either fanfiction or role-play ( this can apply to both. ) If I wrote a character I didn't know and I didn't have a strong emotional attachment to them in some way then I don't think I would want to write fanfiction about them.

If someone were to ask me for a commission fanfic of a series I don't know, I would go into it and do all the research I need to possibly watch or read the series in question to gain more knowledge about the characters they wanted me to write.

[goddess-pan]

Tailor!Reader in Dream SMP

Dsmp x reader prompt; Tailor!Reader in Dream SMP. Credit would be appreciated so more people can find this and make their own things based on it.

Can fully be read as platonic. GN!reader with they/them pronounce as a placeholder so anyone can adapt it however they want. Both general and character specific parts included.

Characters who have a lot written for/about; Eret, Ranboo, Foolish, Tommy, Technoblade, Philza and Michael. Mentioned; Tubbo, Sam Nook, Purpled and Foolish Jr.

This ended up being super long so I’m putting it under the cut in order not to clutter people’s pages. My personal favourite part is Phil’s and Techno’s part. These could be read as headcanons but are still available as a prompt(s) to use for anyone.

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

The reader joining after the doomsday as a time frame in my mind.

The reader helping people patch up their current clothes since most of it got pretty banged up during the doomsday, and it's not like they can just go get a new outfit since quite a few people had just lost all their belongings and only had the clothes on their back. So at first prioritizing helping patch up the current clothing people were wearing and then moving on to making some simple fast to make and easy on the resources clothes for people. Just like basic shirts and shorts/pants, nothing fancy. Then when everyone has at least a couple of different clothes to change to and from starting their own business to sell people more if they wanted. However waving payment if they brought them the materials and what they wanted wasn't overly complicated.

People at first thinking they are just some chump who knows basic sewing or something. A very kind chump, but still a chump. So imagine their surprise when one day they are just walking by the reader's now established tailors and they see these absolutely stunning designs displayed at the windows. 

Just like their reactions seeing these beautiful designs they can't help but stare at. I'd imagine some of them just doing a double take when they walk by, someone pressing their face up to the glass trying to see it closer, the braver ones going inside and talking to the reader about their designs and the more anxious and/or shy ones only going inside when the reader isn't there to look at designs closer. 

And the reasons they like/are amazed by the designs vary also ! Some just have monkey brain that goes "Pretty. WANT", some who just love the colour and art of the pieces, some who imagine how epic this design or others would look on them, some who love the fashion aspect of it and of course the very small portion who actually know anything about tailoring/sewing and the amount of work that goes into making something intricate.

Some specific character/group interactions I thought of;

Making warm well insulated clothes for people moving to Snowchester so they don't freeze. +A warm cape for Ranboo for the same reason.

Eret being one of the firsts (if not the first) to get himself a fully tailored and customized outfit. Them also being the first and very possibly only person to get a dress or a skirt since most of the other people on the server prefer to wear pants (excluding maid dresses which people might get as joke). The reader crying in joy for getting to design something different for once. And hey if the reader ends up making a few extra ones that she didn't order, but decided to give her anyway it was all just some extra ones they had lying around, never mind the fact that the dresses/skirts are perfectly tailored for Eret and are her style. Just a coincidence, nothing suspicious there. Eret also models for the reader and once he even convinced them to hold a fashion show to showcase some of their work to the whole server. Of course he was the main model presenting the outfits.

At start of the reader beginning to display their designs at their shop Ranboo sees a really cool looking suit on display and his brain just goes "Want." He probably wouldn't be able to buy anything pre-made and be comfortable in it due to his physique. And him having just moved into the arctic and only starting to get settled in, he doesn't have comfortable enough funds for him to get something as expensive as a custom tailored suit AND have enough for any possible rent that he might be required to pay. 

Eventually when he gets richer he starts considering getting one but the anxious side of him always ends up winning and he doesn't. However once he finally gets the courage to go commission the suit for himself he doesn't regret it at all. The reader did their best to not overwhelm him and to make it the best possible experience. Just imagining the absolute joy he would feel for having a properly fitting suit that's made just for him, not too short sleeves nor too wide torso and shoulders, just perfect. If he ends up ordering a couple more suits that's between him and the reader. He actually ends up probably being their most frequent and reliable customer.

And we should all know why that is, but let me clarify just in case; Michael.

The reader basically becoming Michael's personal stylist (/hj) . Not only does Ranboo buy a god awful amount of clothes for Michael, the reader also makes some free ones for him. The free ones are things the reader felt like designing since they absolutely adore Michael and the ones Ranboo pays for are commissioned by him. Michael absolutely has the biggest wardrobe in the whole server. The reader learning how to make plushies so Michael could have some more toys, this learning experience including learning to crochet and knit to see what he like best.

Using their newly acquired plush making skills, the reader starts their quest to make some plushies for others after seeing people stare at the plushies wistfully either while they were working on them or seeing Michael with the plushies. People who got them include the minors, their close friends and basically anyone they thought might benefit from them. Some of the ones they made (that I could think of);

Of course a bee for Tubbo, but also throwing in a little ram one as well

Ranboo gets a grass block plush/pillow

Tommy gets a cobblestone block plush and a cow plush. He also later receives a Sam Nook plush while he's working on the hotel

Purpled getting two different sized ufos, one to hold and the other more of a big pillow

Eret definitely gets a flamingo plush

Foolish gets a totem and a gold block plushies

Phil gets crow plush as well these tiny fake coin and gem plushies (the latter causes problems for him which I'll expand upon later)

Techno gets a pig one as well as polar bear one

Back to the individual/group part

The reader just chilling w/ Foolish as a fellow artists. Them talking about both their arts and catching up every time the reader comes to deliver something to Snowchester when Foolish is building the mansion. Just two pretty peaceful artists talking about their passions. I’d imagine Foolish and the reader could relate to each other and their place in the server due to their similar hobbies/jobs as well as their similar time of joining the server. Foolish's first commission from them being an intricate blanket for Foolish Jr so he could have a more comfortable resting place. He may or may not end up receiving that and several other (though less intricate) blankets as well as a tiny shark plush to give to Foolish Jr. Later on when the reader gets better at either knitting or crocheting they end up making a tiny shark jumper with a hood for Foolish Jr as well. Foolish would definitely cry when he sees his tiny shark baby. Any commissions of clothes for himself tend to always take some time due to sheer amount of work needing to be done due to his size so he always makes sure the reader doesn’t already have a lot on their plate and that they know he’s fine with waiting if they need to take a break from it.

Then there's Tommy, who they sometimes teach more about sewing since he already knows some basics. Him probably being the first person aside from Michael they make a plush for, due to him demanding one once he saw the reader making them. Then proceeding to get three plushies in rapid succession. The first being the cobblestone, the second being the cow and the third one being the Sam Nook one. He ends up losing one of them during the prison fiasco and when the reader asks if he'd like a new one they only get the answer of "Don't want to think about what happened and the same one might make me do that". He then promptly receives new clothing (so he isn't wearing the same ones he was wearing in prison) and some extra blankets (for comfort) from the reader. 

After Tommy meeting Michael does he use him to scam the reader to make them matching outfits for free? Yes, yes he does. Does it work? Yes, yes it does. Are they bothered by it? Not really, they look adorable in their matching outfits.

The reader being the source for Sam Nook's construction gear/clothes or at least the original patterns for them.

And then there's the arctic boys (minus Ranboo, who will still get mentioned) who are an interesting bunch clothing wise. The first one to commission the reader out of them would be Phil who got the original warm cape for Ranboo but also at the same time commissioned one for himself that would include slits for his wings. Eventually getting to design clothing for him which is always an exciting challenge with his wings. And when Phil finally manages to convince Techno to get something made for himself as well, Techno almost immediately gets addicted to having high quality clothing when they finish their first piece for him. The fun the reader has designing clothes for these boys is immeasurable with their different styles and needs in the clothing. Aside from clothing Techno also commissions them for a pet bed for Steve. 

When the boys got their plushies it was adorable but also a very chaotic. Techno giving his pig one to Steve so he wouldn't miss him when he was away from home, but also bringing the polar bear one with him when he couldn't or wasn't allowed to bring Steve with him but still needed comfort. While on Phil's side of things; he was showing his crows the crow plushie joking about he'll replace them if they aren't careful however he made the mistake of showing them the tiny coin and gem plushies as well. I want you to imagine hundreds of crows descending upon this poor fool of a man in the background while the reader is walking away hoping they like their plushies. 

The war that ensued the couple following days amongst the crows starts to cool down but the bickering doesn't, every waking moment Phil can feel eyes on him and one or more of the crows coming to complain about the others having had the shiny plushies for too long. He quickly caves under the pressure and commissions more of the tiny shiny treasure plushies. And by more I mean a lot more. 

When he finally has enough of the things he goes around distributing them to the crows. Finally a moment of peace, but he still feels like something is staring at him occasionally. Deciding to ignore it since it's finally quiet he goes to makes himself a cup of tea and while waiting for the water to boil he fishes out the few shiny plushies he had saved for himself. The second he does he feels eyes burning into him and now that it's quiet he hears it, quiet muffled snuffles and snorts of discontent. Then he sees what ‘it’ is, it's Techno behind the window looking at the shinies in his hand with such intensity Phil fears for his life (/hj). Phil just sighs deeply before walking over to the window and opening it. For a second Techno looks like a deer in headlights before returning to intensely staring at the shinies in Phil's hand before Phil just dumps the shiny plushies into Techno's hand and closes the window. Happy piglin noises can be heard outside while Phil debates the pros (getting to have shinies himself) and cons (the embarrassment of having to commission even more of the shiny plushies than he already has) of getting new ones from the reader. And in all this the reader has no idea the amount of chaos they inadvertently caused.

And finally; Techno commissioning robes/cloaks for whole the Syndicate to wear in their meetings, because he’s dramatic like that. But since he’s a thoughtful guy, he wants them all to fit the members well and not be uncomfortable to wear so he gets everyone’s measurements. Once he has them all he goes to the reader with the order for the robes, he has all the measurements written down under just Person 1, Person 2 etc. to keep their anonymity and when asked what the robes are for he just tells the reader it’s a book club. When he gets them all and the reader asks no further questions he thinks he’s gotten away with getting some cool robes for the Syndicate with their secrets safe. Little does he know the reader actually now knows all the members in the Syndicate since they can just reference the gotten measurements with everyone’s measurements written down from previous work done by them. Whether the reader thinks it’s some weird cult they all are a part of or just an actual book club people are too embarrassed to admit they are in, is up to interpretation. 

[badartxd]

WHY HELLO THERE

MY CHIBI CHILDREN ARE DONE TODAY

Everyone who follows me is under a legal obligation to look at them !!! When I saw them I got so freaked out I dropped my phone ! :’D

They’re so cute and perfect I’m crying and I’ve been staring at them nonstop for the past 5 hours

The first one is my devil baby Niya - so good, so pure, a total cinnamon roll, probably thinking about arson💕

And like, the details!! The colours!! The DRESS!! And the expression aaahhh she looks so goooood 🥹 No but she looks so incredibly sweet and innocent and the pose is so dreamy and the dress suits her well and is so gorgeous on its own too??? The patterns ?? The floral motif? The cape? And the way a lock of her hair falls as her head rests on her hands? The shiny little golden scales? Flawless, incredible, I am madly in love and going to propose right now.

And the second is Warden Yara, my beloved, and how is she this adorable?? While being her signature type of grumpy but very inquisitive , with her pose very much portraying that😭 And her birthmarks and freckles and scars are all so on point I’m like extra extra happy about that! And the floof!!

And the outfit! Adufjvgfigjg so I like really really wanted to see her in this and I’m absolutely losing it for her outfit - the sash, the trousers, the boots, and the vyshyvanka especially!! 🥺😭😍 it suits her so well and the pattern is so beautiful and I’m dying over here aaaaaaa and she would 100% wear this and love it and it’s even open and that’s just aaaaaa

Like it’s a very cool look but also it being so flowy it looks so soft??? Y’know??

I’m gonna put a pretty personal note here and say that I don’t have much left from my family, not from either side, beyond photographs - we don’t have an official family tree beyond a personal scrambled record, and the oldest family item I have is gold from a great great - (several greats later) grandma’s earrings melted and remolded completely into a ring. The revolution made it difficult to keep any records or belongings, especially with nobility in the family, as most valuable things either got appropriated by the state or gotten rid of by the family itself in fear of persecution. But some of the things shown and worn in the photographs that remain are so incredibly lovely, and one of them is a dress that I’ll actually link afterwards. So I’m .. emotional, let’s say. This is an extremely long winded way to say it, but I am very happy to see my character in this. ;V;

I will once again link the absolutely wonderful artist behind these here, and add that they’re still very much taking commissions, both personal and for humanitarian aid in Ukraine, and have both an amazing art style and really good prices given the quality of their art!!! Please check them out!!!! 💚

[gukyi]

the heiress and the hotelier | ksj

summary: when you share a kiss with a mysterious but gorgeous stranger on the night of your unwanted, lavish masquerade birthday party, the last thing you expect is for him to vanish at midnight on the dot. but when, as punishment for always arguing with him, your father assigns you to oversee the company’s newest resort hotel, you begin to realize that the handsome stranger may be closer than you think.

{cinderella!au, heiress reader!au, hotelier seokjin!au}

pairing: kim seokjin x female reader genre: fluff, comedy word count: 21k warnings: alcohol consumption (nothing major), workaholic characters, face blindness, idiots to lovers a/n: hello and welcome to guyi is a nonstop writer!! that’s the fuck right !!!! thank you so much to @aurawatercolor​ for commissioning me for this (again!) and for being genuinely wonderful. happy birthday! oh--and i’ll be on a socially-distanced vacation this upcoming week, so i’ll be a little more inactive than usual, but here’s this fic to keep you occupied while i’m gone!

Your birthdays have never belonged to you.

Not when you were little, when your mother was always the most excited for you to open your presents and host your birthday party. Not when you were older, and your parents started using your age as a reason for you to start learning the inner workings of the family business under the understanding that you would one day inherit it. And certainly not when you’re an adult, when all your birthdays ever remind you of are the years gone by, blowing past you like dandelion wisps, glimpses of memories that are too nimble to catch between your fingertips. 

When people say that time goes by faster as you get older, they aren’t saying it because your life is getting exponentially more interesting with each day that passes. They aren’t saying it because you’re having more fun or doing more things, things that distract you to the point of looking out your window and realizing that it’s dark outside. 

They say it because the more years that you have lived, the more years you have to remember. And when you have to recall something as overwhelming as your life, your brain makes shortcuts. The days, weeks, and months blur together, leaving behind snippets from events that your memory deems worthy, events that have become less and less frequent with time. You can’t remember the last major celebration you had. Perhaps your university graduation?

The thing about birthdays is that you know that there will always be one next year. So why bother with celebrating now?

You would give anything to have everyone pretend that your birthday is just a normal day. 

Unfortunately for you, you are the only one in your family who seems to have adopted this mindset. 

Heaving out a sigh, you look at yourself in the mirror, reflection bathed in the white light of the bathroom, stark and unforgiving. In the merciless glow of the bathroom, you barely recognize yourself. Gone are the deep eye bags that you’ve so dearly acquainted yourself with, tired eyes covered with contacts to bring back the shimmer that has long been lost. You gaze into your eyes and they don’t even feel like they’re yours anymore. 

In your hand sits the masquerade mask you had ripped off the moment you entered the bathroom, having been desperate to take it off from the minute you arrived at the hotel. The feathers brush against your skin, soft and black, a custom-made accessory designed to match your gown, an ink black floor-length piece with onyx gems that sparkle silver in the light. 

Hoseok was going for a black swan theme—said that it would match your personality perfectly. You’re not exactly sure what he meant by that. 

Frantically, like there is a timer ticking down inside of you that you cannot turn off, you pull the mask back on, adjusting it over your eyes until it sits just right, resting atop the bridge of your nose. Hiding behind it, you can almost deceive yourself into thinking, if only for this one night, you are someone else. 

The door swings open next to you, revealing a guest that you don’t recognize, someone on the list of hundreds that your mother invited, none of whom you know very well and could certainly not identify beneath a masquerade mask. She smiles in that polite, awkward way as she rushes into a stall, deep maroon train trailing behind her, leaving you stuck between a rock and a hard place, having no desire to go back out into the fray but also not wanting to stay in the bathroom and listen to other people do their business. 

Thank God she didn’t recognize you. Your mother was insistent that you be recognized as the guest of honor despite the whole point of a masquerade party being the inability to correctly identify people, so you might as well be walking around in a t-shirt with your face on it. At least the mask is doing something. 

You blink at yourself, hoping that maybe if you close your eyes enough, when you open them you’ll be someone else. When that doesn’t seem to work, you take a breath and fix your mask one last time before heading back into the ballroom. 

Immediately, amongst the crowd of people, all of whom are only here to elevate their own statuses by being associated with an event hosted by your family, you spot the back of Jungkook’s head, deep brunette tufts of hair deftly styled by a whole team of people, a slicked back, Phantom of the Opera style. He’s got on a tuxedo and mask to match, but even with that on you could recognize him in your sleep. He is your brother, after all. 

He’s talking animatedly with the pianist, an old mutual friend of your family’s named Yoongi, who isn’t wearing a mask and is thus immediately identifiable. Not to mention the fact that your family has known his since before you learned to walk. As you get closer to them, you notice that his maskless-ness is because Jungkook’s got it snatched up in between his fingers, dangling it in front of Yoongi like the taunting claw of a rigged toy machine. You decide not to bother them. He’s always been closer with Jungkook, anyway.

You really wish your mother better understood what a masquerade-themed party meant. You can’t get more than three steps in before being stopped by someone you can hardly recognize, all smiles for the birthday girl. They wish you a happy birthday and give you a lifeless compliment that goes in one ear and out the other before going on their way, positively thrilled that they’ve been invited to an event as grand as this and determined to make the most of it. 

Eventually, after far too many interruptions, you make it to the catering table, helping yourself to a piece of the five-tiered, golden-iced cake your parents had ordered. At least they got your favorite flavor right—chocolate and vanilla swirl. You wait happily beside the rest of the catered food as you eat, hoping that you are just out of reach enough to go unnoticed. The least your birthday party guests could do is leave you alone. 

“Y/N!”

Never mind. 

You look up to the source of the sound and find only your father approaching, all dressed up in a crisp suit from the same tailors that made Jungkook’s. He isn’t wearing a mask and apparently doesn’t need one, since it is your birthday and not his. Not a good enough excuse, in your opinion. 

“Dad,” you say with a smile, wiping away the icing you feel sitting just off the corner of your lips. 

“Enjoying yourself?” He asks heartily, all smiles because he’s always felt rather at home surrounded by this sort of grandeur, almost as much as your mother. No wonder the two of them get along so well. 

“The cake is nice,” you dodge the question. 

“Ah, glad you like it,” he says, helping himself to his own piece. “We were going to get red velvet but then Jungkook reminded us your favorite flavor was the swirly one,” he laughs to himself, like it’s funny that they almost got it wrong. “Had to call the bakery last minute and change it.”

You purse your lips together in a tense smile, fork picking at the crumbs left on your plate. 

“Have you been chatting with your friends?” He asks. 

“Here and there,” you respond. Nobody here, except perhaps Jungkook and Yoongi, would be people you considered friends. Acquaintances at best. And besides, it’s not like you can even identify half of the attendees anyway. “You?” You always do much better when the topic of conversation is not your social life. 

“Ah, yes, of course, you know me,” he jokes, always the aristocrat. “I was just speaking with Mr. Oh about that corporate investment deal that I had been arranging with him.”

“Dad,” you say, exasperated, “You know that I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Y/N,” he says, already beginning to get frustrated. You and him have shared this conversation countless times already. “You aren’t the final decision maker. You know that.”

“Yes, but you value my input, don’t you?” You challenge. He nods tensely. “So listen to me. I don’t think this deal will be good for us. Even though the Oh’s have more money in their investments, they aren’t transparent with it. If you make this deal you won’t know where our money is going.”

“Nonsense,” your father rebukes. “Mr. Oh and I have known each other for years. I trust him. You’re just saying this because you don’t like their son.”

“Sehun has nothing to do with this,” you argue, even if it is true. Your mother had set you up on a blind date with him a couple of years ago and from the moment he walked through the door, you knew it would go south. He’s got the same conceited attitude his father has. “I don’t think it’s a wise business decision.”

“You mustn’t let personal grievances get in the way of your work and you know that,” your father commands sternly, eyebrows furrowed as he looks at you. “What will you do when you are the CEO of Jeon Group? Are you going to let pettiness get in the way of major advancements for the company?”

“No!” You insist, though you are far too gone for your father to believe you. 

“This deal is happening and that’s final, Y/N,” your father declares harshly, eyes narrowed at you. 

“But, Dad—”

“I don’t want to hear another word from you about this,” he directs. “You should know better than to argue with me about this sort of thing. Especially here. Your mother worked very hard on putting this party on for you, and you should be grateful.”

You exhale, incensed. “I am, Dad, but the business means more to me than—”

“Stop. You can’t change my mind.” Your father sets his finished plate down on a cart an arm’s length away, piled high with discarded dishes, glasses and utensils. “Go talk with your friends instead.” You frown at him, nose scrunched up in contempt. He gestures you away from him. “Go.”

Sighing, you wipe away the sweat that has gathered along your temples and go back out into the center of the ballroom, watching begrudgingly as your father steers you from him, having deemed your conversation over even if you weren’t finished talking. It’s obvious that there’s no more getting through to him. Unless all of the Ohs are suddenly arrested for embezzling funds or mail fraud, that deal is happening.

Standing in the middle of the room, you turn around once and you’re immediately lost amongst all of the guests, surrounded by people everywhere you look. You turn back to where your father was standing but he’s vanished, and when you turn the other way, Jungkook has disappeared from beside the grand piano as well. It feels like you’re outnumbered, like you’re trapped in a maze of people with no end in sight, like one wrong move and suddenly they will all turn to look at you, stare you down like camera lenses, relentless flashes of light. Nobody to talk to, nowhere to run. 

You’re stuck. 

Now that you think about it, you sort of always have been. 

The room gets blurrier.

“Hey, are you alright?” A voice asks. 

You feel like you spin around several times before your eyes focus in on the man it belongs to. 

“Here, come on, let’s get out of here.”

Your feet move against your mind’s better judgement, the man ushering you away from the center of the room and out of the crowd. You barely notice the direction he’s taking you in until you feel the cool late night air blow past you, tickling your skin and sending shivers down your spine. 

It’s the balcony.

The glass door shuts behind the two of you, sending a stream of wind against your back as it effectively removes all of the background noise of the party, containing it within the ballroom, leaving the both of you shrouded in the stars’ silence. 

Out here, you have a perfect view of the city. Even though it’s nearing midnight, the lights are still on, coating the town in a twinkling glow, yellow lights flickering on and off, as if someone were looking at the universe from far beyond it. Some parts of the city go to sleep when the sun sets. Others are just waking up. 

Next to you, the man removes his suit jacket and drops it ceremoniously on the floor at his feet, arms resting on the balcony’s railing as he gazes out into the distance. As you look out into the same deep navy sky, it’s almost as if the rest of the night has faded away. You don’t know who he is and you can only hope that he doesn’t know you either, hope that he has rescued you from the crowd to talk you down rather than talk you up. But you don’t miss the way he hasn’t said a word to you since you stepped foot outside, hasn’t dared to initiate contact just in case you were looking for a respite from all of it. 

At this angle, you can turn your head just enough to get a good look at him, at the way half of his face is enveloped in shadow while the other half is letting the moonlight do all of the talking. From here, the light from the full moon is faint, a barely-there silver glow, but it casts him in just enough light to make him seem as though he belongs in a dream. Like he isn’t even real. It highlights the sharpness of his jaw, the peaks of his cheekbones, his round button nose. But what it really makes gleam are his eyes, almost pitch black in the night. They reflect the sky like nothing else, glimmers of faint starlight in an ocean of ink.

Quite frankly, you wouldn’t mind staying like this for the rest of the night. 

“Thank you.” You breathe out the words and immediately feel his gaze jerk sharply towards you. “For getting me out of there.”

“Of course,” he says, and oh, goodness, his voice is thick and warm and comforting, like a fireplace on a cool night, like a blanket after a nightmare. “You just seemed like you needed a break.”

“You could say that,” you say, shrugging to yourself. You could use more than a break. A general pause on life is something you certainly wouldn’t object to—if only it was that easy. But hey, you take what is given to you and never miss an opportunity if you can help it. There’s a lot that you can (and do) complain about but even more than you should be grateful for. Your father was right. This party took a lot of planning on your mother’s part and you spent half of it in the bathroom wishing you were anywhere but here.

“A lot on your plate?” He asks with a smile, a real one, one that isn’t forced like everybody else. Almost like he’s smiling because he’s actually enjoying himself. 

“I feel like it’s endless,” you say, keeping it vague because, as it stands, this gorgeous man does not know who you are, and you would like to keep it that way.

“As is all of life,” he says sagely, almost as if it’s a reminder to himself as well. You wonder what he must have on his mind. You wonder if it’s worth sharing your life with a stranger. “It looked like you had a lot on your mind back in there.” He gestures weakly back towards the door. 

“I have a lot on my mind no matter where I am,” you correct, and you try to make it sound funny but instead it just comes out sounding sad. Normally you wouldn’t be cracking jokes at your expense in front of someone whose name you don’t even know, but you had a couple of drinks tonight and the taste is still fresh on your tongue, sitting alongside all of the words you want to say but don’t know how to. 

The man leaves it at that, not wanting to push any further, but you aren’t finished yet. Someone might as well know how you feel, since you bottle it up around everyone else. 

“Do you ever wish that you could just… I don’t know. Disappear?” You turn to look at him, heaving out a sigh. He doesn’t say anything, simply gazes back at you, like he’s willing you to carry on. It, in a way, worries you. “Ugh. I feel ridiculous saying it out loud.”

There’s a tense, pregnant pause between the two of you. It makes you feel like talking was a mistake. 

“It’s not ridiculous.” It almost sounds like the words are coming from someone else. Like this whole thing is just a figment of your imagination, created by your mind to keep you company because there’s no one else to turn to. 

He’s staring out over the balcony now, waiting for you to continue. 

“I don’t know,” you say, feeling utterly idiotic, like a fish out of water. “Sometimes I just wish that I could go somewhere else and be someone else and not have to worry about all of the things in my life. Things like my family, and my work. There are so many things that people expect of me. All the time. It feels like I’m living for them instead of myself.”

He nods along, holding back to see if you have anything else to say. You must sound like such an ungrateful little rich girl, you think to yourself. Complaining about this fabulous party and incredible life that you live, a life filled with wealth and grandeur and power, a life that most people dream of having. What will he think of you?

“I’m sorry,” you blurt out before you can stop yourself. “I probably sound like such a spoiled brat.”

“You don’t,” he immediately assures you, taking a step to his right and closing the gap between you two. “It doesn’t sound like that at all.”

“Then what does it sound like?” You muse to yourself, forcing a laugh. 

“It sounds like you have a lot that you feel like you owe to other people,” he says organically. “You know, like you feel like you have to do all of these things because you can’t let other people down. I get it. I know that everyone nowadays is all, ‘You shouldn’t give a shit about what other people think of you, just do whatever you want,’ but it’s hard not to think about what other people think of you. And what other people expect from you. Letting them down sucks.”

You chuckle. Sounds about right. You may not be completely satisfied with your life right now but that doesn’t mean you’re going to fling your responsibilities onto the shoulders’ of other people. Your father works hard, your mother works hard, your brother works hard. The least you could do for them is offer up the same diligence.

“You’re quite the smooth talker,” you joke, looking him up and down and nodding your approval. He’s definitely figured you out, at least. 

“I’m just a people person,” the man admits. “I like talking with people.”

“And here I was, thinking that I’d be confessing my secrets to a brick wall,” you say, making him crack a smile, another real one. You like the look of them. A part of you wants to do it more often. 

“Secrets, huh?” He asks, sliding another inch closer, daringly so, teetering on the edge of territory that you haven’t touched in years. “I like the sound of that. Got any more for me?”

You smirk up at him, a grin playing on your lips. “Only if you have one for me in return. No freebies.”

He laughs, loud and clear, the sound ringing out in the nighttime air. “Alright,” he says, obliging. He leans in close, lips hovering above your ear. “I think you’re gorgeous.”

You’ve been listening to compliments all night but this one makes the heat rush to your cheeks like nothing else, a fire set alight in your veins. 

“That’s a secret, is it?” You ask, suddenly feeling shy, looking all around you just so you don’t have to look him in his eyes and feel your legs turn to jelly. 

“Not anymore,” he reminds you. “What about you? Anything else to share with me?” He’s standing dangerously close to you now, barely half a foot of space between your bodies as he leans into you, hands hovering above your waist. 

Slowly he begins to tilt his head towards you, and while you’ve never been one for dramatics, you have to admit that you haven’t felt this way since your schoolgirl crush days back when you were a teenager, giddy and electric and desperately craving more. 

You watch as his lips flutter above yours, feel transparent underneath his steel gaze, and you say, “I think you’re gorgeous, too.”

The fireworks thing had always been over the top for you. Like it was impossible for a kiss to feel that explosive to anyone, setting you alight over and over and over again. But his lips pressed against yours come pretty damn close. It makes your whole body go weak, like you can barely hold yourself up, hands clutching onto his sleeves just to make sure you don’t go topping off the balcony. He kisses you and you swear that you would never do this sort of thing normally—go about your romantic interests like a professional, a couple of dates and then perhaps a kiss on your doorstep—but goddamn, it feels like you might just give up everything for him. It feels like there are sparks running all across your skin, sending jolts of life into your heart. It feels like he is someone you are going to miss.

It lasts too long and ends too quickly all at once. You distantly hear the party celebrate the clock striking twelve indoors, cheers and screams and shouts as people rally themselves to continue long after the mark of a new day, and feel him pull away from you at the very same instant. Shamelessly, you instinctively reach up to try and meet his lips again, refusing to believe it’s over, but already he’s separating himself from you. 

“Hey, what’s wrong—?”

“Oh, nothing, nothing, I promise,” the man says, the words barely registering in your kiss-drunk haze. He scoops up his jacket from the floor and immediately begins to head back inside. “I just have to go, really. It’s nothing.”

You freeze, mouth agape. “Wait, I don’t even know your—”

“It was really nice meeting you, I hope that we can see each other again!” He pulls open the door with one final grin, one beautiful, brilliant smile, and then suddenly, he’s gone. 

You feel the rush of wind blow against your skin, holding you hostage on the balcony as you stare at the closed door, almost like he had never been here at all. 

It wasn’t a dream. It couldn’t have been. He was real, and he was here, and then he was right in front of you, his hands were on your waist, his lips were on your lips. And still, it’s almost as if it never even happened. 

You blink back at the door, trying to convince yourself that you are still awake, that you haven’t gone mad with loneliness, when you feel yourself step on something. 

It’s his mask. A plain, black one with a couple of decorative touches. The string meant to secure it to his face is broken, having probably snapped in half in his rush to leave, leaving it as the only reminder that you didn’t dream up the entire ordeal to begin with. 

You reach down to pick it up, letting it rest between your fingertips, and you laugh. Here you are, having fallen for a man whose name you don’t know and whom you don’t think you’ll ever see again, the only piece left you have of him being a broken, forgotten masquerade mask. Like the worst rendition of Cinderella ever. 

Leaning back over the balcony, you sigh, resigning yourself to the fact that even if tonight was more eventful than you thought it would be, you will have to get up tomorrow morning and go to work, just the same. 

And you suppose that that really is what the man was talking about when he said life was endless. 

It’s not that it has no end. It’s just that it doesn’t really feel like you’re ever beginning something new. 

You wake up in a cold sweat and are convinced you dreamt of the whole thing until you see the mask sitting on your chest of drawers, grounding you back to reality. 

You wonder what it is about him, about last night, that so easily deceives you into thinking it never happened. Perhaps it was the time, or the alcohol on your tongue, or how storybook the whole thing felt, from the talking to the kissing to the disappearing into the night. Or perhaps it was the fact that you can’t remember the last time someone made you feel the way that he made you feel, can’t remember the last time someone kissed you like he did. Like your brain was convinced it would just never happen. 

At least you know that there’s still a little hope for you.

A part of you almost thinks that, for the rest of time, you won’t be able to think of anything but the mystery man and his excellent kissing skills. Even the morning after, the tingling feeling on your lips still lingers like lint on a blazer, like a scar that won’t fade. It feels like it won’t ever go away, dancing along your lips every time you look in a mirror. You hardly remember anything else about that night besides him, besides talking to him, besides his lips on yours. 

You continue to live in this post-kiss bliss for another ten minutes as you help yourself to breakfast and hum a mindless tune. Then your phone lights up. 

“Hey, Dad!” You say cheerfully, practically bouncing on your feet. 

“Y/N,” he says gruffly. “You haven’t left for work yet, have you?”

“Nope,” you say, stuffing a spoonful of Honey Nut Cheerios into your mouth. “Why? Do you need me to bring something?”

“Actually, Y/N, you won’t be coming to the office today.” His tone is stern and sharp, no-nonsense. The same way he speaks to interns who have fucked up. 

Oh, no. 

“What do you mean?” You ask, trying to keep your tone positive even though you already know you’re toast. 

“I’m assigning you to watch over the new resort hotel at the edge of the city.” Your father has never been known to beat around the bush. 

“What?” You gasp out, shocked. “Dad, you know that I—”

“You wanted more independence and more input in decision-making, didn’t you?” He says pointedly, a reminder of last night.

“Yes, but I—”

“Good,” he declares. “This resort is going to be your responsibility and I want to see that you are doing well with the tasks at hand.”

“Dad, that sounds good, but you know I much prefer more corporate responsibilities—”

“And at this resort, you will have that,” he informs you. “It’s high time you take on your own tasks instead of doing the ones that I hand down to you. I expect to see this resort flourish.” You don’t understand his logic. Isn’t he literally handing you an entire resort to oversee? A brand new one, too?

“But wouldn’t you rather manage such a new hotel? What if it starts to encounter deficits?” You plead, a final attempt to get him to take your name off of this project so you can go back to doing what you’re used to instead of being flung a brand new resort you definitely aren’t keen on overseeing. 

“Then I should hope to see you solve them quickly,” he clips, effectively dissolving any hope you had that he would change his mind. Normally, you love your father’s typical hands-off approach when it comes to business, usually because it allows you to gain working experience without him carrying you every step of the way, but right now, you just wish he was more of a selfish businessman. For once, it would actually work out quite well for you. 

“Dad—”

“I’ll be checking in.”

He hangs up. 

Standing in the middle of your kitchen, you huff, nose scrunched up and eyebrows furrow as you try to think your way out of this. Getting through to your father is impossible, getting through to your mother, even more so. She’s always preferred to stick to philanthropy, anyway, having zero interest in what you and your father do. You scowl to yourself, already beginning to run out of options. Is your list really that short? Who else in your family could help?

Suddenly, you smack your head, shocked at how forgetful you’ve been. You grab your phone from where it sits on the counter and dial his number. 

“Y/N?” Jungkook asks from the other end, voice still groggy. At least he gets to sleep in. 

“Hey, Jungkook,” you say, sighing out your hello to sound more casual. 

“What’s up?” He asks in between yawns. 

“Listen, Dad just assigned me to oversee that new resort hotel on the beach just outside of town,” you say economically. You’ve always gotten straight to the point with your brother. It’s the only reason the two of you aren’t constantly at each other’s necks anymore. 

“Really? That’s awesome!” Jungkook says excitedly, voice jumping up half an octave. 

“I mean…” You begin, because it’s really… not.

“This probably means that Dad’s going to retire soon, don’t you think? Since he’s giving you such a big responsibility, right?” Jungkook asks, a suggestion that nearly sends you into a coughing fit at the mere thought of it. Retirement?

“You think so?” You ask, a little terrified. 

“I don’t know,” Jungkook says, and you can hear his nonchalant shrug through the phone. “Maybe. He has been talking a lot recently about what’s going to happen when you take over the company.”

“Don’t you want that same responsibility, though?” Jungkook has never been treated as a business equal the same way you have, despite having the same expensive education as you and being much better with people. You’ve always wondered if that’s bothered him. 

“Not really,” Jungkook tells you, and you can hear the familiar log-in sound of his computer in the background. “I mean, I’ve always known you were going to inherit the company. This sort of thing just makes sense to me.”

You frown to yourself. “You don’t want to be involved with the business at all?”

“No, it’s not like that,” Jungkook says with a sigh, voice still groggy. “I’m happy that I’m getting the work experience and everything. But it’s just never something I’ve seen as part of my future.”

Mostly because it’s always been yours. 

The fact of the matter is that Jungkook, even if he is younger, and a little more rambunctious, and a little bit more impulsive, has always been the better candidate to take over the family business. He excels at task-driven jobs and has charmed the pants off of everyone he’s ever met, from Yoongi to your florist to the nice woman at the customer service counter at your local grocery store. He’s a quick decision-maker and never second-guesses himself. He also has zero problems with his love life and potential partners, something that your parents are desperate for you to figure out. He’s perfect for the position. 

So why are you the heir?

“What, are you just going to livestream video games for a living, then?” You ask snarkily, already knowing that he’s sat at his desk, ready for another match. 

“Probably. I could probably double the family’s fortune, you know,” he says, and he’s right. What he does is equally as profitable as what you do, and he gets bonus points because it’s something that he genuinely enjoys. 

“You better get started then, gamer boy,” you say, hearing his bubbly laugh echo through the phone before you hang up. 

Jungkook would take over the resort hotel management if you asked, and you know it. He’s got the experience and the expertise to do it flawlessly, no questions asked. But he won’t, because you won’t ask that of him. Because even if you don’t want to do it, it is better you than him. Someone in this family deserves to do what they love for a living. And nobody deserves that more than him. 

The Honey Nut Cheerios slosh around in the milk in the bowl in front of you. You aren’t very hungry anymore. 

Your father has always had an eye for design, a trait he never seemed to pass on to you. It’s no wonder why he’s the one the architectures and interior decorators run everything by while you manage the finances. It’s something your mother always says she loves about him. So, even if you are assigned to oversee a resort hotel that you have zero interest in whatsoever, at least it looks nice. 

“Whoa, this place is fancy,” Hoseok says, gasping as the two of you step out of the car beneath the golden awning that covers the hotel entrance. There are little lights lining the structure, something to bathe the canopy in a sparkling glow when the sun says goodbye for the day, light it up like stars in the night sky. 

“You’ve been to my house, this is nothing,” you say with a shrug, making him laugh as the doors open for you, carpet plush and hardly touched. From what you read in the file your father sent you, this place hasn’t been open for more than two weeks. 

It looks like it’s barely been occupied. 

The security guard, a gruff, stout man, nods a hello to you as you enter. 

“Uh, your house doesn’t have security guards,” Hoseok whispers into your ear as you pass him, pointing rather conspicuously to the man behind you. “Your dad really went all out on this one.”

You huff, gritting your teeth. Good thing it’s not an eyesore, otherwise you don’t think you’d last a week here. “Well, he’s always loved the beach.” 

“Why does that not surprise me,” Hoseok lilts, whistling as he gazes away from you, guilty. 

You smack him with the back of your hand in the middle of his torso. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing, nothing,” he says, backing off even though he knows he’s the only person (well, besides Jungkook) who can get away with saying that sort of thing in front of you. “You two have always been polar opposites, I’m just saying.”

“Yeah, well, say it in your head,” you sulk, hitting him again so that he straightens up. You both have a duty to make a good first impression, though Hoseok’s red suit is doing half of the work for him. 

As you enter, all of the staff behind the desk scramble to get to their positions, hands together neatly in front of them as you peer over your wire-rimmed glasses to get a good look at the place. It’s clean, elegant, with touches of luxury here and there, a golden coffee table, an accent along the lining of the walls. It smells faintly of lemon and mostly of the ocean, a scent you are going to have to get used to. Everything seems to be in order. 

You stroll up the front desk, eyeing everything closely. Behind it, the three employees currently on front-desk duty wait patiently for you to speak. Their names are written in capital letters on gold-plated tags, pinned to the pockets of their blazers. You nod as you memorize their names. Irene, Seohyun, and Seokjin. 

Seokjin looks positively wide-eyed, flabbergasted to be seeing you, to be standing in front of you. There’s this faint sort of recognition on his face, like he’s just realized something life-altering, and he’s doing a rather poor job of hiding it. Perhaps he’s just starstruck.

“Well, we might as well get the introductions over with,” you declare, clapping your hands together. The sound makes the three of them jump. “If you didn’t know, I’m Y/N, and I’ll be overseeing this hotel for the foreseeable future. So let’s get along well together. For all of our sakes.”

They nod, polite smiles on their faces. 

“Which one of you is the hotelier?” You ask, looking between the three of them. Your father had written it down in that file somewhere but quite frankly, you were so exasperated that you had been assigned the hotel that you hadn’t really looked it over properly. 

“That would be me,” the man, Seokjin, says with a tense, small little grin, nodding his head when you turn to face him. He looks strikingly familiar, this sort of picturesque nostalgia that you can’t quite place, angles sharp in the bright light of the hotel. You wonder where you’ve seen it before. Possibly in some magazine or at an event. He certainly is worthy of being photographed. 

“Excellent,” you declare happily. “Then you’re on my staff, aren’t you?”

“Yes, I just received word about that last night,” he affirms. 

“Wonderful,” you say, fingers tapping against the granite countertops. “I can tell that this will all go smoothly, so long as we all make sure to stay on task. Sounds good?”

“Of course, Miss Jeon,” Seokjin says. 

“Please, call me Y/N. I do hate formalities,” you request. “So, shall we get started? I trust that you all know exactly what you’re doing. But I would like to receive a few updates here and there about the goings-on here. Mostly, I would like all total daily income numbers to be faxed to my office, transcripts of all of the customer service requests, and an updated menu. The pizza is far too cheap and the lobster just as expensive. How’s that for a starting list?”

“Would you like those numbers in an Excel sheet or graphed?” Irene asks, eyebrows raised. 

“Both,” you answer. She and Seohyun get right to work, leaving you feeling confident that this won’t be a complete train wreck. “Seokjin, you are with me.” You gesture for him to come out from behind the desk, and begin to walk around the lobby of the hotel, hoping to put some distance between you two and the other employees. He stays a solid two feet behind you the entire time, taking quick, short steps so he doesn’t dare start to catch up. 

“How can I help, Miss Jeon?” He asks, eyes wide.

You smile, shaking your head. “I told you that Y/N is fine. In any case, since you are the hotelier, I will need a little more from you.” He nods. “First, I need a summary of all expenses and income since you opened, preferably in Excel and formatted cleanly. I’ll also need a list of all of the employees, their respective positions, and their salaries. It would be great if we could begin to eliminate the part-time slots and allow the employees to become full-time so that they receive the same benefits as you and I. I’ll also need information on their schedules.” 

You notice he isn’t writing any of this down, simply bobbing his head as you lift off everything you want and a few things that you’re throwing in just so you don’t have to do them. 

“I assume that you don’t have constant contact with my father, but I don’t mind being the messenger in regards to hotel infrastructure and design. Any and all malfunctions should also be reported to me. It would also be great if we could maybe lose the curtains in the lobby. I think they close up the room. But, your choice.” You narrow your eyes, looking around to see if there’s anything else that needs urgent attention, when you see Hoseok already beginning to hunt through the concessions room, picking up bags of different themed Jelly Belly. “I think that should be enough for now. Update me whenever possible, please.”

“You got it,” Seokjin says, heading back to the desk as quickly as he had walked away from it, concentration washing over his features. It does, at least, bring you comfort that nobody seems particularly incompetent. 

Behind you, you can hear Hoseok muttering a few things at the front desk, most likely having to do with you and your attitude. But you don’t think it’s that big of a deal. You’ve always been work-oriented. It’s always been your biggest focus. Lingering in the lobby, you gaze out the floor-to-ceiling windows, looking out at the entrance, the slick, newly-paved asphalt, the tropical flowers that surround it. You have always preferred a city to a beach, but at least the time might pass quicker here with people who know how to do their jobs.

Perhaps this might not be so bad after all. 

Then, your phone vibrates in your pants pocket. 

“Mom,” you greet, surprised that she’s calling you during work. “Hey, how are you?”

“Wonderful!” She shrieks, always the energizer. “Your father told me all about how he assigned you to oversee that new resort. I’m so proud of you!”

“Thanks,” you respond, lifeless. 

“You know, you have a lot of responsibility now,” she reminds you, as if you had already forgotten how much work goes into supervising something like this. “Directing a hotel and its staff is a big deal. I don’t want you to think that you can just slack off.”

“Mom, I’m not going to slack off,” you explain. “You know I care about this stuff, just like Dad.”

“I know, I know, I’m just making sure. We want to make sure the company is in good hands when your father retires. He doesn’t have too many years left, you know.”

“Well, whenever he’s ready, I’ll be too,” you assure her, a promise you have vowed to uphold, no matter what becomes of you or your social life. 

“Good.” The conversation ends there. Or, more takes a quick pause, which can only mean one thing. Your mother has something else she needs to tell you. “Speaking of seeing you off…”

“Yes—?”

“Your father and I both think it’s high time you start to settle down with someone. You know we don’t want to see you end up all alone,” she begins, the same argument that you’ve had with your parents time and time again. 

“Mom, you know that I’m not really interested in going out and finding people right now.” Or ever. 

“Yes,” she begins, sucking in her breath between her teeth. Oh, goodness, what’s she going to say now? “But luckily, you don’t have to. You’re so busy, we can’t expect you to just drop everything. So we did.”

“You what?”

“Your father and I have set you up on some dates—just a couple!—with some of his associates’ sons,” she explains, but you are already livid. “We just think that you should be taking more time to see—”

“See what?” You demand. “See his friends’ bratty sons tell me how much money they make? See their cars and their clothes and their stupid Italian leather shoes? See them tell me how I work too hard and that I should just stay at home while they go out and change the world? No thank you.” You can’t name a thing in this world less appealing. Except perhaps supervising a resort hotel against your will. But even that’s better, because the men here actually know what they’re doing.

“Honey, you just aren’t giving them the opportunity—”

“Mom, they don’t deserve an opportunity. I don’t need to be dating people right now. At all!” You exclaim. “Like you said, I’m busy. If Dad is going to retire soon then I need to be ready for it. I have other priorities.”

“Your happiness is our priority,” your mother insists, convinced she’s doing you a good deed by setting you up on blind dates with rich men who care more about their watches and Italian leather shoes than they would a woman. 

“Working makes me happy,” you say between gritted teeth. “I’m perfectly happy as I am.”

“Will you please just give them a try, honey? You never know,” she pleads, desperate to get you to agree with something.

“Fine,” you say, caving in just to get her to stop talking about it. “But don’t expect anything out of it.”

“Yay! That’s all I wanted to hear.” You can hear her relief through the phone. 

“Anything else?” You ask, rubbing at your temples, wishing desperately for this day to be over so you can just go home and take a nice, hot bath, and dream about the mystery man in his black masquerade mask. You’re not interested in dating, sure, but for him, you think you'd make an exception. If only you knew who he was. 

“That’s it. Love you, honey, congratulations on the new resort!” She hangs up in that same voice that she started with, bubbly and animated, and the moment you hear the line go dead, you throw your dignity to the dogs and groan to yourself. 

“God almighty,” you mutter angrily, shaking your head as you rest your head in your hands, fingers massaging at your forehead. Another blind date? How could you possibly have agreed to that? The more you think about the more you wish that this part of your life was the dream instead. Fairytales are overrated but quite frankly, you certainly wouldn’t mind if that man from the party waltzed right into your life and swept you off your feet. He certainly had no trouble doing it last night. You wonder what he’s up to, now—

“Miss Jeon?”

You jump at the voice, scaring both you and Seokjin as you turn, a little cry escaping your lips instinctively. “Oh my God, you frightened me. And please, Y/N is fine. Better, actually.”

Seokjin looks like a deer in headlights, terrified to even talk to you, let alone address you by your first name. You appreciate the professionalism but have never been too fond of the whole ‘Miss’ thing. As if you or your parents need any more reminding that you’re single. Your first name feels much more natural. He flounders twice, opening his mouth to say something before shutting it again, as though whatever he says will suddenly enrage you. 

“Do you… need anything, Seokjin?” You ask, prompting him since he doesn’t seem to be taking matters into his own hands. 

The sound of his name from your lips snaps him out of his daze. “Oh! Yes, I do, actually. I just wanted to ask if you wanted me to include personal expenses on the part of the hotelier in the Excel sheet.”

“Personal expenses? Did you receive a credit from my father?” You ask, an eyebrow raised in surprise. 

“Yes, it was mailed to me just last week. I’ve only used it for a couple of items, though—”

“Like what?” You ask, head tilted. 

He blushes red, cheeks rosy like cherries in summer. “The curtains in the lobby.”

You bark out a laugh, amused at how unexpected this whole thing is. The one thing Seokjin spends money on, you instruct him to take down. At the sound of your chortle, Seokjin backs away, like a cat scared of thunder claps. “Of course,” you say, looking up at the sky and exhaling. Fate. “Please include those.” He nods, already making to scurry back to the front desk, but another sentence from your mouth stops him in his tracks. “Oh, and if you think that the curtains look nice, then leave them. I was never good at interior design anyway.”

You crack a smile, hoping that Seokjin will at least recognize that you’re attempting to be funny and grin, validating you and your lacking sense of humor. He doesn’t, but he does nod once more, and you at least feel like the ice between you is beginning to crack. 

Seokjin rushes back towards the front desk, taking on the enormous list of tasks you’ve assigned him without so much blinking an eye. You watch as his eyebrows furrow in concentration, knitting themselves together above the scrunch of his nose, as his eyes zero in on his computer screen. It’s obvious that he knows exactly what he’s doing and has no issues regarding his work whatsoever. Good thing he’s the hotelier. 

From here, you can use supervision as a cover for the way that you are blatantly ogling him, his figure and his face, finding yourself rather impressed at the sight in front of you. Here, in this lavish, modern hotel, he looks like a prince rather than a manager, clean button-down shirt and fitted slacks, tailored to fit his short torso and long legs. His hair hangs in front of his face in strands, the same sort of hairstyle that the attractive male love interests get, messy and tousled but still fresh. It looks good on him. He certainly wears it well. 

You don’t think being here will be too bad, so long as you have him. 

“Hey.” You feel Hoseok wrap his arm around you, joining you as you stand by the windows. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” you promise. “I am.”

Hoseok motions back towards them, where they work diligently behind the front desk as they wait for the next guests to arrive. Seokjin, thinking you aren’t looking, steps back from his computer for just a moment to take some breaths, catch some air. He stretches, arms above his head as his shirt is pulled out from where it’s tucked into his pants. Even from here, you can see the toned lines of his torso, his healthy, slim figure. 

Something about him is so familiar. Maybe you met him in a past life. 

“I think you’ll be fine, Y/N,” he promises, bright white smile gazing back at you, happy as always. “You don’t have anything to worry about. They all look like they know what they’re doing. Especially that Seokjin guy.”

Being here wasn’t your first choice. It wasn’t even your second. But you have people that you can’t let down, and responsibilities to uphold. Besides, you don’t think it’ll be that bad. At least, not with someone like Seokjin around. Perhaps there is always a silver lining. 

“Yeah,” you repeat again, exhaling. Hoseok turns to look at you, fondness lacing his features, and you smile to yourself. “I know.”

Very seldom are you shouted at by people that your family has employed. The fear of being fired due to disagreeing with your boss is enough to keep many people quiet. Submissive, even. 

But not Hoseok. 

“What is with these eye bags, Y/N?” He exclaims at you, exasperated as he picks up the color-correcting pot from his kit and turns around to face you. “I thought we agreed on eight hours of sleep per night. Getting less than that is a death sentence!”

“I’m fine, Hoseok,” you insist, even though the bags underneath your eyes are deeper than the Grand Canyon. You, admittedly, have not been sleeping as much as Hoseok has insisted upon. 

“No, you’re not, look at you! Earlier today you shoved your toothbrush into your ear when I called you while you were about to start brushing your teeth,” Hoseok reminds you, an embarrassing moment in your life that you would prefer to keep just between the two of you. Sometimes you just mix up what’s in your hands. It happens. 

You frown. “I thought we agreed not to mention that.”

“Your skin is looking dry, too,” Hoseok says, dabbing on the product underneath your eyes. “These are all signs that your body isn’t doing well.”

“Okay, Dr. Jung,” you say with a roll of your eyes, making Hoseok scowl playfully at you. “But I’m fine. I’m just working a little bit harder right now. That’s all.”

“That’s what you always say,” Hoseok points out, unimpressed with your measly excuse. “Every time I talk to you about how you aren’t taking care of yourself, you always go, ‘It’s because of work, I’m fine,’ or ‘Don’t worry about me, I just have a lot to do right now.’ It’s not healthy.”

“I don’t sound like that!” You object, offended at his mocking high-pitched impression of you. You don’t sound like Hoseok on helium. You refuse to accept that. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Hoseok says, shrugging you off as he pulls out the concealer. “I’m serious, Y/N. You work yourself way too hard. This event is supposed to be a fun business gala and you’re probably going to spend the whole time checking your email.”

“I will not!” You will.

Hoseok frowns, seeing right through you. One of the many benefits of being your personal assistant is the fact that he can read you like a children’s book. He also knows that he can say whatever he wants to you without fear of getting fired—not that he cares about that, either, because he’s probably got enough money in his bank account to put three kids through college. If he ever wanted to have kids, that is. So this is how conversations like these usually go. 

“If I didn’t like your live text updates on the stupid things people wear to these things so much, I would make you leave your phone at home,” Hoseok tells you. “You really do need to take time for yourself.”

“I do take time for myself,” you rebuke with a pout, thinking about how you’ve started waking up five minutes later so you have more time to sleep in. It means that you don’t get to read the morning news like you used to, but sometimes putting off politics until after you’ve had coffee is a good thing. 

“A once-a-month ten-minute bath while you put on a rose face mask doesn’t count,” Hoseok tells you pointedly. “You need to be incorporating this sort of thing into your everyday life. By taking time off. All you ever do is work.”

“It’s not my fault,” you huff, closing your eyes so Hoseok can do some eyeshadow. “I have a whole hotel to oversee after my dad assigned it to me. There’s a lot that I have to manage. Plus, my mom is making me go on these stupid blind dates with their associates’ snobby sons who still think that the pay gap isn’t real.”

Hoseok tuts to himself, shaking his head as he brushes color onto your eyelids. “Your parents have such bad taste in men for you.”

“I know!” 

“This is even further proof that you need to relax more,” Hoseok says economically, brain immediately connecting your predicament to his agenda to get you to take more time off, as always. “Because men stress you out.”

“Just them, but yes,” you correct.

“What do you mean ‘Just them’? Is there someone you’re interested in that doesn’t stress you out?” Hoseok demands, tapping your cheek to get you to open your eyes. You do and the first thing you see is Hoseok’s face, two inches from yours, staring at you as he waits for an answer.

You sigh. You might as well tell him about the mystery man. Clearly, you underestimated his power, because it’s been a week and you’re still thinking about him. “Yes, but—”

“‘Yes’?” Hoseok asks, shocked. “What the fuck, when did you meet him? What does he look like? What’s his name? Job? Is he rich?”

“At my birthday party,” you say. You can picture the scene perfectly in your mind. The balcony, the stars, the mask. The feeling of his hands on your waist, his lips on yours. They’ve been etched into your brain. “We talked on the balcony for a little while and then we kissed.”

“You what?”

“Don’t overreact, it’s not that big of a deal,” you order. The mere recollection of it is already making your body restless and your cheeks burn.

“What do you mean? It’s a huge deal!”

“Well, it doesn’t matter,” you interrupt, sighing to yourself, “because he ran off at midnight Cinderella-style and I don’t know his name, or his job, or even what he really looks like because he was wearing a mask the whole time.”

Hoseok stops dead in his tracks, the loose power leaving a puff of smoke in between the two of you as his words sink in. Yeah. That’s how you feel too. You finally develop an interest in somebody after years of going it solo and you don’t know a damn thing about him. Other than the fact that he is a fantastic kisser. Which is not an appropriate identifier. You suppose that you could use the mask, but you don’t even know half of the people your mother invited. How are you supposed to narrow down who was wearing a black mask and who wasn’t?

The fact is that unless a miracle happens, you don’t have any way of figuring out who that man is. Yet another thing that you have to dwell on while you worry about everything else going on in your life. 

Hoseok sits on his words for a few more moments, trying to figure out the right thing to say. Eventually, he settles on, “Damn. That sucks.”

“Yeah.”

“Can you do anything to find him?”

You shake your head, resigning yourself to a life where the mystery man will forever remain a mystery. “No. I don’t even know who was on the guest list.”

“What if you ask Jungkook?” Hoseok poses. “Maybe he knows him.”

“Jungkook does not need to know about my barely-there love life,” you say with a self-deprecating chuckle. You and your brother typically keep your conversations far away from that realm of topics, but it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that Jungkook is rather flush with admirers. Many of whom have gotten to know him a little bit… closer. “It’s no big deal, ‘Seok. I’m not really desperate to find love. I just need to focus on work, right now.”

“I wish you wouldn’t work yourself so hard, Y/N,” Hoseok says with a melancholic smile, knowing that no matter what he tells you, you’ll always be too determined for your own good. At least he tries. 

You purse your lips in understanding. Hoseok just wants what’s best for you, but what’s best for you right now is being ready for your father’s impending retirement. “There’s just too much that I have to do.”

“At least you’ll have help with the resort,” Hoseok offers, always looking on the bright side. “That Seokjin fellow seems like he really knows what he’s doing.”

You think back to your visits to the resort. Your longest stay was the first day you arrived, but you’ve been making frequent trips back to check in. And every time you arrive, Seokjin is waiting dutifully for your next orders, always getting your completed requests back to you on time, formatted perfectly. He listens to your every word and asks the right questions. He knows exactly what to do and he has no problems admitting when he doesn’t. He’s even started bringing you the occasional coffee.

He’s also terribly handsome, but you try to think about other things when you look at him. 

Hoseok’s right. At least you have Seokjin. His impeccable work ethic is half the reason you aren’t wearing yourself thin worrying about the resort. He was definitely meant to be a hotelier. 

“I guess you’re right.” You nod, letting Hoseok brush a deep maroon lipstick onto you as he finishes up with your makeup. “It could be worse.”

Hoseok mumbles in agreement, stepping back. “Let me look at you.”

You stand up, gown, heels, makeup, and all, letting Hoseok gaze at you to make sure that everything is flawless. You’ve never liked the events you have to attend, but getting dressed up is always something you rather enjoy. Especially when Hoseok is the one doing it. 

The dress drapes down your figure perfectly, hugging your sides as it gathers on the floor, leaving just enough space for the tips of your heels to peek out. Your necklace hangs low on your torso and your earrings dangle, soft golden strings with gems at the base. Your eyes sparkle with the help of the glitter that Hoseok has added, touches of shimmer on the high points of your face. You look into the mirror and for once, you feel satisfied.

“Wow,” Hoseok says, proud and beaming. “Look at you.”

There you are. 

Days at the resort hotel pass by faster now. 

Granted, no work day could ever top the speed at which the days passed when you were younger, playing outside with friends or running around in the yard during recess. But being here isn’t as terrible as you had first made it out to be. At least you don’t have your father constantly looking over your shoulder, even if he does call you every day to ask for updates. And at least the people here have integrity, more so than any of the usual executives you work with up in the central building in town. The people here aren’t brown-nosing you every minute of every day. 

And yes, getting to see Seokjin every day is also rather enjoyable. From a professional perspective. 

Hoseok says you need to take more time for yourself and relax more but quite frankly, being at the resort hotel is a vacation. It’s a respite from the hustle-and-bustle culture that your father has cultivated in his office building. It’s a break from the neverending business deals, the meetings, the agreements and bargains and contracts. And most importantly, it’s something that you can do without your father’s help. 

For once, it almost feels like a little taste of freedom. 

Of course, Hoseok would also tease you terribly about the fact that you consider overseeing a resort hotel a break, as opposed to an actual holiday where you take real time off. But he must know that that’s never going to happen. At least, not anytime soon. 

You hadn’t realized your father’s retirement was so close. The years pass by in a blur but you have always thought that your father has much too much to finish, tasks and projects, and events that will take another few years to come to fruition. Too many loose ends that he needs to tie up, deals he must close and finances he must track. You’ve been groomed to take over for him since you were young, even before you graduated, but retirement has always felt like a distant future. 

Not an imminent happening. 

Jungkook hadn’t even sounded surprised when you told him that you would be overseeing the new resort. 

You wonder if you’re the only one in your family who hadn’t expected your father to be planning his retirement so soon. The money and savings isn’t an issue—he will continue to invest long after he leaves his office—but the time is. Perhaps he has finished more than you thought he would. Accomplished more goals than you expected he’d do. 

Or perhaps, you just grew up too quickly. 

Time has always gone by much too fast for your liking. When you were little, when you were in school, when you graduated. You closed your eyes and suddenly all of your youth had whizzed by. You woke up and suddenly you were in and out of four years of college and two years of a Master’s in business. You blinked and suddenly you are about to inherit a company you thought you never would. 

The fear of everything ending is enough to keep you away. Away from that skyscraper in the center of the city, where your father’s office sits at the top floor, where he works nonstop to make sure that everything is ready for your arrival. Away from a future you thought you could avoid, until it reached you. 

Having this resort hotel, a brand new building in the beachy part of town, with efficient, competent staff and a gorgeous view, is enough to make you want to live in the past forever. 

Your phone screen lights up with your father’s contact for the third time today, the green ‘answer’ button and the red ‘decline’ button waiting patiently for your decision. Staring down at it, you frown. You normally aren’t one to purposely miss your father’s calls, but today is the day that the deal with the Ohs is finalized, something that you have zero desire to celebrate. 

After a few more moments, your phone stops vibrating in your hand, the screen going back. You roll your eyes and stuff it into the pocket of your pants, not wanting to wait for it to light up once more. You have a feeling that your mother will be phoning shortly to berate you for not answering your father’s calls, a call that you have every intention of ignoring just like the previous ones. You aren’t sure how to make clearer the fact that you think the deal is a bad idea. A terrible one, even. Mostly because the Ohs are horrible people.

Still, you cannot resist pulling your phone out when you feel it buzz against your side.

[Today, 12:27PM]

Jungkook: dude dad’s flipping out because you aren’t answering his calls

Ugh. Not Jungkook, too.

You: Tell him that I will congratulate him on the deal in person later. You: I’m busy right now.

Jungkook: he’s calling just to check in on the resort

You: I give him weekly updates and forward him any pressing news. He’ll manage.

Jungkook: just call him or mom’s gonna call you

You: Tell her that I will congratulate him on the deal in person. You: Later.

Jungkook: are you gonna be like this until dad retires?

You: Like what?

Jungkook: -_- Jungkook: don’t play stupid Jungkook: you’re being stubborn and you know it.

You: Dad already knows that I didn’t approve of him going through with the deal. I don’t imagine he’s expecting a party from me.

Jungkook: you can’t keep ignoring him just because you didn’t approve of one thing Jungkook: how is that professional???? Jungkook: you’re inheriting the business soon Y/N Jungkook: you need to start acting like it

You: Don’t tell me how to act when you aren’t the one busting your ass trying to make sure the business is ready for when he retires. You: You have your own life to lead and your own things to do. It’s not your place.

Jungkook: as a businessman, it isn’t Jungkook: as your brother, it is

You scowl at your screen. The brother card. Jungkook pulls it whenever he and you both know that you’re being unreasonable, and the worst part is that it always works. It always works because Jungkook only ever wants the best for you, wants to see you succeed as a businesswoman, as a future CEO, and as his sister. And who are you to deny him such a simple pleasure?

You: I just have a lot on my plate right now. Dad and I can talk later.

Jungkook: yknow Jungkook: like, occupationally, you are more than ready to inherit the company and you know it. Jungkook: you work so hard 24/7 and you never take breaks, you know exactly what you’re doing and you can command a room better than anyone i’ve ever met Jungkook: but Jungkook: oh idk

You: What?

An impromptu psychoanalysis from your wise-beyond-years younger brother is certainly not something you had been expecting today. But Jungkook always has and always will know you better than anyone else, something that is both a blessing and a curse.

Jungkook: you are so fucking ready to inherit the business Jungkook: i just wish you would realize it

Silence. You pause, watching the three dots appear and disappear over and over again, Jungkook typing and deleting what next he wants to say. Chuckling to yourself, you read his message over and over again. 

What’s Jungkook on about? Doesn’t he know what you do? The position you have? Just because you’ll eventually take over the business doesn’t mean you’re ready for it. Isn’t Jungkook aware of how much work you have to do? About how your father assigned you this resort hotel as punishment for disagreeing with him? 

You aren’t ready. 

You’re barely halfway. 

You: Yeah, right.

Jungkook: i’m serious Y/N Jungkook: can’t you see how prepared you are

You: I still have lots to do, Jungkook. Just because I’ve been given more responsibility doesn’t suddenly mean Dad’s going to retire tomorrow and that I’m ready to take over.

Jungkook: that’s not what i meant and you know it

You: I don’t feel like talking about this anymore. Tell Dad that I’ll talk to him about the deal later. 

Jungkook: … Jungkook: fine Jungkook: but don’t say i didn’t try to tell you

You angrily switch your phone off, fuming at the fact that the deal’s gone through, fuming at how Jungkook thinks that suddenly because you were given a resort hotel to oversee it means that you’re ready to take over from your father, and fuming at how, above all, there’s a part of you and a part of Jungkook that both know that he is, as usual, right. 

There’s a knock on the door to your makeshift office at the hotel and you lose it. 

“What?” 

You look up just in time to see Seokjin jump slightly at your shout, coffee sloshing around in the cups in his hand. Ah. You hadn’t meant to scare him like that. 

Exhaling, you rub at your temples as you set your phone down on the desk, shaking your head. “I’m sorry, Seokjin. I didn’t mean to snap at you. Please, come in.”

“Coffee?” He offers, a small smile on his face as he holds it out.

“You are a lifesaver,” you declare, taking the cup from him happily and having a sip. Perfectly scalding. Seokjin waits patiently behind your desk until you’re finished, swaying slightly. “Can I help you with anything?”

“Oh, no,” he says, shaking his head. “Just thought that I’d let you know that I’ve just got more files on the finances.”

“Oh, excellent,” you declare happily, accepting the small manila folder from underneath Seokjin’s arm. You open it just to browse, and everything seems to be in order. An easy thing to file away for future reference if necessary. And there’s no doubt in your mind that Seokjin’s already faxed you an electronic copy as well. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” Seokjin nods. He turns to leave but seems to linger, noticing the tension in your shoulders and the irritation on your face, the way you drink up the boiling coffee like it’s nothing, relishing in the burn down your throat. He almost stops himself, opening his mouth slightly and then closing it, but then he just sighs, and he asks, “Are you alright?”

You sputter out the coffee all over the manila folder in front of you. “I’m sorry,” you say over coughs, the beverage going down the wrong pipe in all of the chaos. “What—what did you say?”

“You just seem more stressed than usual, is all,” Seokjin says, rocking back and forth on his feet with his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his ink black slacks. 

“I’m sorry if I’ve been snappy recently,” you say, admitting it. “There’s just a lot I’m dealing with right now. Mostly to do with work.”

“I hope I’m helping, then?” He says hopefully, a hesitant grin on his face. 

You nod in agreement. Without him, you definitely wouldn’t be sleeping half as much as you do now (which is apparently still not enough, according to Hoseok). At least Seokjin’s there. “You definitely are. I don’t think I’d have made it without you,” you chuckle. 

Seokjin smiles. “If you need me to do more, I’d be happy to. Just ask.”

“Thank you, Seokjin. I really appreciate that,” you tell him. In the short time you’ve known him, Seokjin’s kindness has outshone even his stellar work ethic, a trait that you’ve come to admire in him, mostly because you know you can only dream of being as generous as he. “It means a lot.”

“Anytime,” he says, and he means it, too. “I’ll always be here for you.”

And standing here, in your makeshift office, with a matching cup of coffee in his hand, and a gorgeous, toothy smile on his face, you know that he means that, too. 

Sometimes, you can’t even believe a man like Seokjin exists. He’s practically flawless.

“I will bear that in mind,” you promise. “You really are a wonderful person, Seokjin. Really.”

Seokjin grins, the compliment going straight to him, blushing furiously as he exits your office, waving a tiny goodbye on his way out. You return it, watching fondly as he nearly crashes into the door frame, hand slamming onto it before he realizes. He laughs at his clumsiness and even from here you can see his cheeks get redder, heating up like the coffee in his hand. 

Work is hard. Being the unprepared heir to an enormous conglomerate even harder. But Seokjin’s right. 

At least you’ll always have him. 

You’ve never been one to develop friendships with your employees, but there is something about Seokjin that’s different. Something about him that makes him a confidant first and a hotelier second. Something about him that pulls you in, an electric, magnetic touch. 

You feel like you’ve known him longer than you feel. Feel like you’re closer than you really are. 

Some people are just like that, you suppose. Some people just make you wish that you had known them forever.

Quite frankly, you don’t think you could name a single thing wrong about Seokjin even if you tried. He gets your coffee order perfect (not that it’s hard, it’s just that you’ve never told him what it is), he does all of his work before you’ve even asked, and he runs the damn resort hotel better than you do. He’s obviously a people-person and can make others laugh without trying. He’s even figured out how to compliment you, a trait that not even grown businessmen have learned.

The days pass in a blur, made quicker by the ease of working with him. Of being around him. Seokjin lifts up your spirit and he doesn’t even have to try. His competence in the workplace is enough to have you coming by the resort daily instead of weekly, hourly instead of daily, just so you can spend time in a place that, for once, makes you feel relaxed. 

Hoseok would say that Seokjin is a miracle-worker. 

You would say that he’s just brilliant.

Honestly, sometimes you think that even Seokjin is more well-equipped to run your family’s business than you are. And you’re the heiress. 

The differences between Seokjin and all other men you’ve had the displeasure of interacting with (besides Jungkook, because he’s your brother, and Hoseok, because he’s the best) become abundantly clear after your second mother-mandated blind date. 

The first one that you went on a couple of weeks ago was alright. He wasn’t an asshole, but also he had the same amount of flavor as the plain white bread that you were served prior to the meal. But no points is better than negative points, right?

You mentioned to your mother that you probably wouldn’t be interested in a second date with him. She didn’t sound surprised. 

Unfortunately for you, your second blind date was not nearly as uneventful. 

The good part about your date was that it was a brunch arrangement, which is unabashedly your favorite meal of the day and also saves you the trouble of having to get all dressed up for a fancy dinner in the center of the city. But that is where the good parts end. 

You don’t know what your parents were thinking, setting you up with a man like Sangmin. Every single thing that you have ever complained to them about a man, Sangmin either did or was. The first red flag was how he showed up to your brunch meeting wearing a navy blue suit. It didn’t get any better from there. 

You know that your parents just want you to find someone and settle down, someone who can take the weight off of your shoulders and get you to stop working so hard, someone who will make you happy and who can keep you comfortable, someone who is something that you genuinely will want to spend time with, but you can’t explain why, with this knowledge of your preferences and dislikes, they still send you on dates with men like Sangmin. 

Men who boast about their money with every chance they get, checking the time just so they can flash their Rolex watch even though their phone is right there, telling you how many fancy cars they own that deserve a woman like you in the passenger seat. Men who try to explain economic practices that your family pioneered to you. Men whose eyes flash with dollar signs when they hear that you’re going to be inheriting your family’s company. 

Your parents want you to find someone who can take the weight off of your shoulders and keep you comfortable? They should let you pick. 

At one in the afternoon and not a moment later, you storm into your office, flinging your bag onto your chair as you groan aloud, staring out the window and fighting the urge to punch right through the Plexiglass. There’s no word for the way you’re feeling, the unintelligible growl that you let out. You just aren’t having a very good day. 

Your desire to interact with men is at an all time low, and yet, you can’t help but turn around when you hear his voice. 

“Knock, knock,” Seokjin says from the doorway, two cups of steaming coffee in his hand. He strolls up happily to you, placing the plastic cup in your outstretched hand. “How’d it go?”

“Bad,” you spit, not wanting to say anything else.

“Oh, no, really?” Seokjin asks, genuinely disappointed. At least someone was rooting for you. You don’t even think you had been rooting for yourself. “Worse than the first guy?”

“Say the first guy was just… slightly stale white bread, okay?” You begin to explain, because Seokjin doesn’t need the details and you don’t need to relive the experience. “Then this guy would be… how would you put it—?”

“Really stale white bread?” Seokjin offers.

“A rotten egg mayonnaise sandwich that’s been sitting in a dumpster for two weeks,” you correct. 

Seokjin winces. A perfect reaction, as always. 

“It was just bad. I don’t want to talk about it anymore.” You decide once and for all, moving to your desk and slamming the coffee cup onto the wood. It sloshes over the edge and splashes around the side, leaving behind a ring that you know you’ll have to clean up later.

Seokjin goes to stand by the window, looking out into the back gardens of the resort, all tropical red flowers and vibrant green leaves. “You have a third one, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” you groan, the mere thought sending shivers down your spine. And not the good kind. The fact that the dates aren’t even over yet is enough to send you into a tailspin. “God, my parents are just desperate, at this point.”

“Why?” He asks, turning to face you, brown eyes wide and curious. “Are they worried about something?”

“Ugh,” you begin, on the verge of slamming your head onto the mahogany. The problem isn’t that your parents are worried you won’t find someone. It’s that your parents think that it’s their job to find someone for you. “I think they’re scared that I’m never going to marry, or that I work myself too hard and need someone to spend time with to calm down. I don’t understand. Even if I were to never marry, that’s not a bad thing. I can do what I want. I’m perfectly capable of running my family’s group without someone else.”

“Do you not want to get married?” Seokjin asks. The reason, you realize, that Seokjin is so refreshing, a respite from the rest of the executives that constantly surround you, is because he doesn’t expect anything of you. He doesn’t assume that you’ll eventually marry and become disparaging when you suggest otherwise. He doesn’t assume that you constantly need guidance on official matters that you alone have been tasked to handle. He doesn’t assume that you aren’t capable. 

(He did assume your preferred coffee order. And he is an excellent judge.) 

“I mean,” you begin, rubbing at your temples in a desperate attempt to relieve your body of the stress that sits upon it, “I suppose that eventually, it would be nice. But I’m in no rush if I haven’t met the right person, you know? Like, I’m not going to force myself to if the time isn’t right. There’s no deadline to get married.”

Seokjin nods in agreement, mouth shut. One of your favorite things about Seokjin is how, whenever you begin to speak, he begins to listen. 

“My parents are just putting all of this pressure on me to get married because they think that I’ll need someone���s help when I take over after my father retires. Or they just think that I’m sad and lonely. Which, maybe they’re right about the second part, but I just hate how they’re putting all of this pressure on me to go on dates and get married and work hard when there isn’t even a timeline for me to take over yet. I don’t even have real confirmation that my father is planning on retiring anytime soon. I just—ugh!” There really is no better way to put it than to just shriek and throw your hands up in the air. You sigh, dragging your hand down the side of your face. “Do you ever wish that you could just… I don’t know. Disappear?”

Seokjin’s eyes widen when he hears your words, like they’ve set something off in his brain. Even sitting on your tongue, they feel familiar to you. Where have you heard those before?

He seems to wait for another few moments, contemplating what he’s next going to say, like if he just opens his mouth and lets the words flow out he’ll say something wrong. Little does Seokjin know, in your eyes, nothing he could ever say would be wrong to you. 

“You aren’t sad and lonely,” he begins, a nice, comforting pep talk even though you sort of are both sad and lonely. You work nonstop and have three friends, two of which are employed by your family, the other one being your brother. “And you don’t need to rush into getting married if you don’t feel like it, no matter what your parents say. I mean, at least I think you don’t. You’re obviously much more focused on your career and how you want to succeed in the future, and that’s good. It’s something that means a lot to you.”

He takes a few steps towards you, setting his coffee cup on your desk. You look up to him from where you’re sitting in your office chair, letting his words carve themselves deep into your heart, rest within your soul. 

Sometimes, you don’t realize you’ve gotten yourself down until someone is trying to pick you back up. 

“You do have control over your life,” he tells you, and for once in your life you actually feel yourself believing it. “What you are doing, what you have been doing, is right. Things will come with time. You’ll learn and grow more as you keep living. And even if you aren’t looking for them right now—” he says, eyes wide and knowing and promising, looking at you so desperately because God, he just wants you to listen to him. To let his words mean something. “—there is someone out there who will love you.”

The sound of his voice dissipates into the air, sinking into the floor, dust after a storm. 

“You really think so?” You ask, hopeful. You never believed in soulmates but you have always believed in love. Believed that when the feeling was right, you would know. 

(That kiss still lingers in your mind, like morning dew after a rainy night. Like frost settling over the grass. Is it possible that you can feel like that again?)

Seokjin nods, firm and true. He does think that. He does. “I do,” he says. “I really do.”

The third date is forgettable. 

Or perhaps Seokjin has just enchanted you. So much so that your brain doesn’t even choose to remember interactions with other men. They just aren’t as memorable. 

You finish up this round of parent-mandated rich boy blind dates and get back to work, knowing that you might as well make the most of your now-unoccupied time before your mother decides once again that it’s time for you to go on dates again with men you have no interest in. Work, unlike so many other things in your life, will always be a constant. For better or for worse. 

Today, it’s barely even dawn before you arrive at the hotel. In recent days, the resort has become your hub for all of your work, even the work that doesn’t have anything to do with it. There’s just something calming about being here. Something that makes you feel more productive. That makes you want to work more. 

You slide into your office with ease, coffee in one hand and messenger bag in the other, surprisingly awake considering the sun is hardly over the horizon, soft orange rays peeking out from between the trees and skyscrapers. You don’t imagine there’s a lot of tasks of immediate priority waiting for you on your desk, but there’s always other work to be done. Administrative orders, emails to send, requests to be made. Even here, there’s no shortage of items on your never-ending to-do list. 

Seokjin’s not due to clock in for another several hours, at least. But he works long days and longer nights, and he deserves at least the morning off. He should at least be afforded that small luxury. 

Sitting down in your office chair, you pull yourself into the desk, elbows resting on the hardwood, head in your palms. The smell of coffee wafts through the air, thick and potent, waking up your nerves, one by one, sending small waves through your brain. You close your eyes, almost drifting back to sleep, sighing happily. 

Today feels like a good day. 

The hours pass quickly when you’re here, the sun rising slowly in the sky as it always does, day in and day out. You rely on it as much as it relies on you, wakes up this little corner of the world, says hello to the people stepping out of their doors and onto the street. No matter what, you know that the sun will always be there to greet you when you wake and say goodbye before you sleep. Within thirty minutes your coffee is finished, within the hour your emails are answered. 

One by one, you check the tasks off your list, responding to a phone call or two, forwarding some files to your father, rejecting a business proposal and requesting changes to another. You don’t even notice the minutes blowing past you until the sun is high in the sky, and the clock is chiming twelve. Noon, already?

“Knock knock,” a voice from the doorway calls. 

You feel your body relax when you see Seokjin standing there, peeking his head into your office like he always does. He looks much more casual today, a sweater vest over a button-down shirt, looser beige pants in place of his usual tailored slacks, hair sitting in a tousled mess atop his head, forehead peeking through the strands that hang low over his face, brushing his eyelashes. Instinctively, you glance down to your usual pantsuit attire. Did you miss a memo?

“What, no coffee for me today?” You tease, an eyebrow raised as Seokjin enters, coffee cup-less.

“Not today, sorry,” he says with a guilty smile. “I thought that maybe we could get something else to eat.”

“Oh!” You exclaim happily. “Sure, we can order some delivery. What are you feeling? Sushi? A burger? Oh, I know this wonderful brunch place that’s just a few blocks away—”

Seokjin laughs, a hand reaching out to push your phone done. The mere sensation of his fingertips upon your skin are enough to have you looking back up at him, shellshocked, heart frozen in place. “I was thinking something a little different.”

“Like what?” There are plenty of options for the two of you to pick from.

“How about you and I take a break this afternoon?” He asks, eyes wide with ambition. 

You frown, nose scrunched up at the notion. “A break? You mean… leave?”

Seokjin nods. Oh, so you did hear him correctly. “You’re always working so hard. You should take some time off.”

“Ugh,” you respond, rolling your eyes, having had this conversation thousands of times before. “You sound like Hoseok.”

“Hoseok’s right, Miss Y/N,” Seokjin points out, much to your chagrin. “You’ve been working so much lately. Just a little break, alright? We can get out of here and do something fun.”

“Nice try, Seokjin,” you say with a scoff, turning back to the work in front of you. “Maybe some other time.” Which means never, so long as you can help it. 

“Oh, come on,” Seokjin says, a pleading lilt to his voice. He’s beginning to pout in front of you, lower lip turned outwards. “Just a couple of hours, please? We can go into the city and walk around for a little bit. Eat some food in the park, or something.”

You look up to him, eyes narrowed in suspicion. That does sound good… but you have work to do, items to cross off your list. This hotel isn’t going to manage itself, and neither is your life. “A couple of hours?” You clarify, interest piqued. 

“Just a couple,” Seokjin promises, fighting off the grin that’s etching its way across his face. “Please?”

You sigh. 

Twenty minutes and a Lyft ride later, you and Seokjin are standing in the middle of the city, along the streets known for their high-class fashion boutiques and expensive restaurants with afternoon tea. There’s a park a couple of blocks to the north. It’s a part of the city that you rarely get to spend time in, usually trapped in the business skyscraper sector a ten-minute subway ride away, but for that reason alone, it feels brand new. 

Seokjin buys you both a cup of expensive coffee despite your objections, and the two of you walk along the sidewalks side by side, sipping from your paper cups with plastic lids, letting the warmth wash down your throats. 

It’s nice, being out here. Away from anything that reminds you of work. With someone you’ve wanted to spend more time with for a while, now. 

Out here, you can almost pretend. Pretend that you aren’t the heiress to a major global conglomerate, pretend that you aren’t being groomed to marry up, pretend that life is just a little more normal. 

Out here, you can almost pretend that you and Seokjin are more than just friends. 

“Oh my God, Y/N, look at this shirt!” Seokjin gasps, stopping in his tracks in front of the window of one of the most expensive luxury boutiques you can name. You’re pretty sure that Jungkook shops here sometimes. 

The shirt in question is a satin white button-down with hand-stitched birds decorating the fabric, wispy little designs that seem to be fluttering off of the material itself. It stands front and center in the window, a masterpiece meant to have people stopping in the streets just to gaze up at it in awe. It’s doing its job rather well. 

“You wanna try it on?” You offer, motioning towards the door of the shop, a sleek, black one with metallic silver accents. 

“What?” He asks, turning to you with an eyebrow raised. 

You smile, pointing up at the shirt, eyes tracing the drape of the fabric. “Come on, just for fun.”

It doesn’t take much more convincing to have Seokjin marching up to the door and pulling it open, giddy like a child walking into a toy store. He spots what he’s looking for immediately, a single shirt on a silver rack, hanging from a simple wire hanger. Other than the one on the mannequin in the window, there seems to be no other option. 

“It even feels expensive,” Seokjin sighs happily, hand brushing over the satin fabric. He holds it out to you, and it’s so light and pliable that you can barely feel your fingertips touching the material. 

“There’s the fitting room,” you say, pointing to the back corner, black velvet held up by a rod, muted gray paint lining the walls. Seokjin grins excitedly at you before rushing off, disappearing behind the curtain with a flourish. 

Instinctively, your eyes trace the interior, jumping from the hangings on the walls to the decorative shelves, the pastel cashmere sweaters and shiny leather loafers, the silken white button downs and navy striped ties. Every item in this room practically screams Seokjin’s name, and even when he isn’t in front of you can you picture him wearing each piece, picture him in an oversized light pink sweater or a sleek white suit. 

It’s weird. You’ve never been able to imagine things like that. Not even on you. 

The clothes in here are some of the most gorgeous garments you’ve ever had the pleasure of laying your eyes on and yet there is something else in this room that outshines them all. 

“Ready?”

You turn back to the fitting room, watch as the curtain shifts slightly. “Ready,” you say.

A hand comes out to push the curtain to the side, satin sleeves covering his wrist, but not even that glimpse of skin could really prepare you for the sight before your eyes. 

Seokjin steps out of the fitting room and you almost gasp aloud at the sight. 

The funny part is that he isn’t wearing anything else designed to complete the look. His hair is loose and floppy, like he had brushed through it with his fingers once or twice before deciding it was good enough. His pants are a roomy beige, hardly even complimenting the monochromatic shirt, white with black accents. He’s wearing sneakers. 

And yet, he looks stunning. 

Standing in front of you, Seokjin looks like the kind of person that your parents would want to set you up with. Rich, well-dressed (not that he isn’t already), powerful, educated. But he looks like more than that, too. He looks like someone straight out of a painting, like a sculpture that belongs in a museum. He stands tall and mighty, the hero after defeating a villain, the love interest in an old-timey film. 

God, he looks amazing. Looks like he belongs in those clothes, belongs in this store. Belongs in the kind of life that the usual clientele of this store live in. Something about him is just so familiar. Like he has always fit into the crowd that your parents want you to associate with. Like you’ve seen him before, once upon a dream. 

“So,” he says, interrupting your thoughts with a smug smile. “How do I look?”

He must already know the answer to that. 

You’re speechless. “I—Wow, Seokjin. You look great.”

A hand comes up to rub at the nape of his neck. “You think so?”

“I know so,” you correct. “It fits you perfectly.”

The fabric shapes his shoulders but drapes over the rest of his torso, including his ridiculously small waist. It both hangs loosely and hugs all of the right places. Your family regularly gets clothing tailored and yet you still don’t think you’ve ever seen any item of clothing fitting someone as well as this one does him. It’s as if the damn thing was made for him. 

“It feels like I’m wearing a cloud and a blanket all at once,” he says dreamily, relishing in the feeling. “If only the price tag made me feel this way too.”

“How much is it?” 

Seokjin holds out the sleeve to which the tag is attached for you to inspect, and the moment you see a comma in the cost, you understand why. No wonder Jungkook’s fine with shopping here. To your family, that amount is pocket change.

“But you really like it, don’t you?” You ask, looking back up at him, closer now. Seokjin nods, lips pressed together in a thin line, wanting something that he knows he can’t have. You know that feeling, too. 

“I would get it if I didn’t mind taking out a loan for it,” he jokes, admiring the detail at the cuffs, the way it cinches in towards his wrist. 

“Then let me buy it for you,” you say before thinking twice, because you have more money than you realistically know what to do with and Seokjin deserves it. He looks gorgeous in it and more importantly, he feels gorgeous in it. He emerged from the fitting room and it was almost like there was this white glow surrounding him, this fluorescent halo that made it seem like the shirt was melting into his body. 

Seokjin’s eyes widen. “What? No, I can’t let you.”

“Please?” You plead, eyes gazing up to him. “You deserve it. Plus, you look amazing.”

“It’s so much money,” Seokjin reminds you, shaking his head. “I can’t. No.”

“Seokjin, do you even know who I am? I can afford it, don’t worry,” you assure him, already pulling him towards the register, his old sweater vest and button down still hanging on the rack inside the fitting room. 

“No, I can’t let you. It might not be a lot of money to you, but it is to me,” insists Seokjin, refusing to back down. 

You roll your eyes, figuring out the game that he’s playing. “Then consider it a thank you. For all of the things that you do for me. The least of which is bringing me coffee every day.”

“That’s just my job, Y/N—” He reaches out a hand to stop you from getting out your wallet, his enormous palm cupping yours as you stare at him, fighting over the shirt like two friends with a restaurant bill.

“No,” you tell Seokjin, because his job is to be a hotelier but he became a friend instead. And he didn’t do it just because he was told to. “You deserve it,” you say, placing your free hand on top of his. It makes him look at you, eyes glossy and big and beautiful. “You really do, Seokjin. This is the least I can do to say thank you for being there for me.”

“Ma’am?” 

The lady behind the counter catches you both off guard. “Will you be buying this shirt?”

Seokjin looks down at you in disbelief, almost like he doesn’t expect you to say yes. Like he doesn’t think he’s worthy of a shirt with such a high price tag.

But little does Seokjin know, if you could buy the whole universe for him, you would do it in a heartbeat. 

You walk out of the boutique with a light heart and a lighter credit card, with Seokjin by your side and his old clothes in a cardstock bag with ribbons for handles. Even if he had resisted at first, you’re happy that he caved. He looks stupidly handsome. You’re actually somewhat regretting agreeing that he should wear the shirt out instead. 

A block away from the park is a little macaron store with more available flavors than you can count on both of your hands and toes. Feeling insatiable, you buy a box of twenty-four and decide on the spot that you won’t be leaving the center of the city without having finished them all. The mere scent of the shop as you walked in was enough to send you into a tizzy. 

Seokjin scopes out an open spot on the grass, in the shade of a big Japanese maple tree, and the two of you immediately settle down in the park, the blades tickling your ankles as you set the box of macarons in between the two of you and get to work filling your stomachs. 

“All of my friends are going to think that you’re like, my sugar mommy for buying me this,” Seokjin says, taking a bite out of the lavender one. 

“If you’re really that embarrassed, you could always say that I just gave you a raise,” you offer, peering over into the box to pick your poison. The problem is that you just want to shove all twenty-three into your mouth. 

“No way,” says Seokjin over a mouthful of macaron. “A sugar mommy is way more exciting. I’m just lucky I have a boss with a bank account.”

“Well, unlike all of the other men that my parents have sent me on dates with, you actually deserve to have someone treat you once in a while,” you say happily, eventually deciding on a lemon flavored macaron and popping the entire thing into your mouth. “I’ve met very few men who are as charming as you, Seokjin. Charming and kind.”

“‘Very few’?” Seokjin repeats, interest piqued. “Who dares upstage me?”

You laugh at his brazenness, his attractive confidence. “Oh, no one,” you say with a shrug of your hand. “There was this one guy I met at my birthday party, but I didn’t even catch his name.”

“Too busy mingling to ask?” Seokjin teases, looking sufficiently less confident than he did ten seconds ago. Like someone you had just said caught him off guard. 

“Yes, actually. And you don’t really need to know this, but he was an excellent kisser, too. Really sent me into a tailspin,” you say, feeling the faint sensation dance across your lips, the ghost of his mouth on yours. “But he ran off at midnight like Cinderella and left only a mask behind to remind me that I didn’t dream up the whole thing.”

“Ah,” Seokjin says with a nod, a strangely succinct answer for a man as wordy as he. A silence settles over the two of you as you continue to eat, slowly emptying out the box of macarons between the two of you, a light snack to keep you occupied when your mouths aren’t running circles around each other. “My dog gave birth a few weeks ago,” he says randomly. “Want to see some photos?”

At your enthusiastic reply, Seokjin pulls his phone from his pocket and opens up his camera roll to reveal a gorgeous terrier with four equally adorable puppies nursing from her, and your heart nearly melts. Nearly all of his most recent photos are pictures of them as they’ve grown older, opened their eyes and learned how to walk, started play-fighting with each other and eventually tracking into new territory (the living room), but you don’t miss the couple of selfies you see here and there. Even with the warped iPhone camera does Seokjin still look positively flawless. 

“They’re adorable, Seokjin,” you tell him, heart soft. “I’m in love.”

“Me, too,” Seokjin says happily. “Two of the puppies have future homes but I think I want to keep one of them. I just love them too much to let them all go.”

“You’ll make a great dog dad,” you assure him, sighing contentedly. “God, don’t you even know how perfect you are, Seokjin?”

He is silent. 

“Like, you bring me coffee every day and do all of your work and never talk down to me or assume that I don’t know what I’m doing. You’ve raised a family of dogs and have shown them more love than anything else. You even got me to leave the office for once even though you knew that I’d be really annoying about it,” you declare, partially to him, partially to you, and partially to the world, who deserves to know that there is someone out there like Seokjin that is equal parts wonderful and generous and kind and handsome and funny and lovable. 

It’s not just the fact that most of your interactions with men your age go sour. It’s the fact that Seokjin is good just because he is, not because he tries to be. It’s the fact that he cares so deeply and loves so much. It’s the fact that for once, there is someone out there who really does understand you. 

“You deserve a break,” Seokjin points out. “You work too hard.”

“Hoseok will be so angry that you accomplished what he’s been trying to get me to do for months, now,” you say. You’ve already missed three phone calls and seven texts from him within the last couple of hours. 

“It’s my charm,” Seokjin teases, a soft watermelon macaron grin on his face. 

“It really is,” you agree, feeling the gap between you close, inch by inch. “There’s just something about you, Kim Seokjin.”

“Mmm, do tell,” Seokjin murmurs, beginning to lean in, your bodies moving of their own accord. Your mouth tastes like lemon and sugar and coffee, but you can’t find it in yourself to care any less. “Because there’s something about you too, Miss Y/N.”

Slowly, you feel your eyes begin to drift shut, craving more than what you already have, itching to feel his lips press against yours, to feel that same fire in your feins. Of course, the next time you kiss someone would be here, underneath a giant Japanese maple in the middle of a city park, the furthest cry from a hotel balcony beneath a starry sky. But something about this is distinctly familiar in a way that you can taste, in a way that you will know once his lips press against yours. Beside you, Seokjin is barely an inch apart from you, pink lips with macaron crumbs hovering over yours. God, he’s so close. 

You want him to be closer. 

And then—

“Aw, what the—?”

The two of you jerk apart to find a giant stain on Seokjin’s shoulder, courtesy of an unknown flying park visitor who has long disguised themselves amongst the leaves of the maple, waiting for the right time to do its business. 

“Seriously?” Seokjin groans, looking down at the white and brown stain that now rests squarely on the fabric of his brand new shirt, an unpleasant splat front and center. “Thank you, bird,” he declares, throwing his hands up in the air. 

You fight the urge to laugh at how uncanny all of this is. “I’ll pay for dry cleaning.”

“No, it’s alright,” Seokjin says, grabbing a couple of the napkins from the macaron shop to dab on the stain. “A little soap and laundry detergent will be enough. No big deal.”

“I just feel bad,” you tell him. 

“Me, too,” Seokjin agrees, pressing gently against the fabric. “Great timing, too.”

“Yeah,” you sigh, dejected. 

Perhaps, if you were a little bit bolder or a little less fearful, you would try again. You would throw caution to the wind and press his lips against his, bird business and all, and never look back. You would relish in the sensation of his mouth on yours, of his hands on your waist, itching to feel that same feeling again. Itching to know that there really is someone out there who will love you. 

But you aren’t, and the moment is over. And you can’t, because you just don’t know how to. And you ponder if you will forever wonder what he tastes like, what he feels like. 

The clock strikes three. 

Some days you come in early, and some days you stay in late. 

Later than usual, that is, because you regularly stay past eight in the evening without blinking an eye. 

But some nights, you just don’t feel like going home. At least, not yet, you do. Some nights, you would rather stay here.

Home is where you’re supposed to feel at ease, where you’re supposed to relax and unwind, take off your heels and jacket, pour yourself a cup of tea. And that is what your home is to you, a place that you try to keep as free of your work life as possible. 

But sometimes, you would rather just work. 

Rather work and feel productive and get home a little bit later than go home and feel like you still have so much to do. Rather work than dwell on all of the other parts of your life that don’t involve work, things like marriage and retirement and your family. Things that you feel like you have no say in, no control over. You go home and waiting for you is another phone call from your mother telling you that you need to find someone. You go home and your father drops by to hand you a pile of late-night tasks reminiscent of how hard he’s been working lately. You go home and even if you’re all by yourself, your thoughts take control over your mind. Your worries and fears are magnified. 

So some nights, you would rather just work. 

Peering out the window of your office, you notice that the stars are just a little bit brighter out here, away from the hustle and bustle of the city. Not nearly as clear as they were on your birthday, at a hotel overlooking the town from afar, but clearer. There isn’t a cloud in the sky as the stars twinkle above you, waving hello from millions of light years away. 

Nights like these are too rare to spend indoors, huddled over your computer as you draft another email. Just because you’re still at work doesn’t mean you still have work to do. Well, you do, but you’re trying to be kinder to yourself. Trying to cut yourself a few more corners of slack. 

The rooftop is not off limits to guests. But you know a couple of secret places that can afford you the privacy you want, the space to lie back against the cement and feel the breeze tickle your skin.

When you arrive, there’s already someone there. A familiar tuft of brown hair, an oversized pink sweater. You wonder how long he’s been out here. 

“Knock knock.” Your sounds like a whisper but feels like a shout, the wind carrying the words from your lips to his ears as he turns around, hardly surprised to see you here. 

Seokjin laughs when he sees you, this fond, wonderful smile as you stroll up beside him, where he’s sat with his legs crossed on the rooftop’s edge, looking out over the distant city, the waterfront. “Didn’t think you’d still be here,” he says. 

“I could say the same for you,” you retort easily, setting down beside him. If you were any braver, you’d rest your head on his shoulder. 

You’re not. 

“You must know by now that I practically live here,” Seokjin jokes.

“Well, I’m starting to pay rent as well, so you better get used to it, don’t you think?” You tease back, looking out into the same city, illuminated by the same moon. 

Seokjin narrows his eyes. “I thought that you were going to start taking it easy on yourself,” he reminds you pointedly, one of the lasting lessons you had learned from the day out on the town. The other being not to sit underneath Japanese maple trees. 

“What can I say, I just love to work,” you say, and even though you try to make it sound like a joke both you and Seokjin know you’re not kidding. Work always has and always will be your biggest priority. Never have you lived in a world where anything else comes first. Never have you cultivated that sort of life for yourself. 

“How’s your family?” He asks, a broad question with a loaded answer. 

You don’t even feel yourself letting out a sigh until the groan leaves your lips, settling like dust. “The same as always,” you say, not even attempting to sound cheerful or happy about it. “They work me hard because they want me to succeed. And I want that, too.”

“But don't you ever want something more?” Seokjin asks, but it’s not the sort of question where he wants you to give him a yes or a no. It’s the sort of question where he already knows that you want to say yes, that there is a whisper deep inside of you that wants to have a life outside of your job, your workaholic family. But you can’t. Because your family is counting on you. 

“I just can’t let them down,” you say instead, because you and Seokjin both already knew how you were going to respond anyway. “There’s so much that they expect of me. What kind of heiress—no, what kind of daughter am I if I don’t at least try?”

“It sounds like you’ve thought about this a lot,” Seokjin muses. 

You force a chuckle. Obviously you have. Whenever you aren’t working, you’re thinking about what next you must do, what next is on your list. You’re thinking about how your family is counting on you to succeed. And how you want to do it for them. “I’ve had my moments.”

“Do a lot of people know how you feel?” He poses, looking at you curiously. 

You shrug. “Not really. My parents, no. Jungkook, sort of. Hoseok, yes. And I suppose you, now, too.”

Seokjin cracks a small smile, this lopsided grin that makes you feel like you’re missing something. “So I guess they’re secrets, aren’t they?”

“Secrets?” You respond naively, an eyebrow raised in bewilderment. 

“Secrets, huh?” He asks, sliding another inch closer, daringly so, teetering on the edge of territory that you haven’t touched in years. “I like the sound of that. Got any more for me?”

You smirk up at him, a grin playing on your lips. “Only if you have one for me in return. No freebies.”

He laughs, loud and clear, the sound ringing out in the nighttime air. “Alright,” he says, obliging. He leans in close, lips hovering above your ear. “I think you’re gorgeous.”

“Oh my God,” you say aloud, dumbfounded. “Oh my fucking God. It’s you?”

Seokjin laughs out loud at that, clapping his hands together at your positively shocked face, mouth agape like a fish out of water. He seems very amused by this, for some reason. A reason you can’t ascertain, mostly because you had no idea. “Honestly, I’m surprised you even figured it out from that. It took you forever to realize.”

You’re so scandalized you don’t even have the right words to respond. “What do you mean, ‘it took forever for me to realize’? Why didn’t you say something?” You demand. 

Seokjin’s still fighting off the remnants of his laughter, hiccups escaping from his parted lips every few seconds. “Because it was obvious you didn’t recognize me at first! And I had no idea it was you until you showed up at the hotel that first day anyway. And I didn’t want to bring it up, because I was worried it would have made things weird.”

“Look at us now!” You cry, positively mortified. Seokjin knew it was you the moment you stepped through the sliding glass doors and you still hadn’t figured it out, not even after weeks of knowing him, of getting to spend time with him. “God, I just—I can’t believe this.”

“The funny part is how I knew you had no idea who I was and yet I fell for you anyway,” Seokjin says, but his words aren’t making you laugh whatsoever. 

Your heart freezes in place as they sink in, etching themselves into your thoughts. “You—you what?”

“You befriended me without knowing that I was the man you kissed on the balcony that night, let me bring you coffee and confided in me and bought me the most expensive item of clothing that I currently own,” Seokjin says, a list of things that you loved him for all the same, “and I realized that it didn’t take that kiss to get me to fall for you. It took knowing you. Learning who you are. Who you want to be.”

You feel your heart getting lighter with every syllable that leaves his mouth, every breath that he takes. 

The truth is that no man had ever made you feel the way that the mystery man did when you kissed that night. But no man had ever loved you the way that Seokjin did. Treated you the way that Seokjin did. The kiss was a spark. 

The friendship was the fire. 

“All this time you were right here,” you muse, looking at him. Here in the moonlight you finally understand why he looked so familiar, why the light hit his skin in all the right places, why the sound of his voice had always struck a chord within you. He glows silver in the moonlight and yellow from the halo above his head, he sits beneath the navy sky and lets the starlight decorate his irises, sparkles in a deep brown ocean. “All this time, and I had no idea.”

“I’m sort of glad you didn’t know,” Seokjin admins sheepishly. “We got to fall in love another way.”

Love?

Could it be?

You’ve never truly been in love. Not the way that your parents are, or the sneaky way you see Yoongi looking at Jungkook sometimes when he’s not looking. But if it feels anything like this, anything like electricity beneath your skin and embers inside your chest, then you think you might be on your way. 

“You’re in love with me?” You ask. 

“Kinda, yeah,” Seokjin admits crudely. 

You feel your cheeks heating up, your heart bubbling within you. You lean in close, watching faintly as he does the same, eyes trained on your lips. “Do you have any other secrets for me?” You murmur, the words hot and heavy on your tongue. 

He inches closer to you, lips hovering above your own, this soft, contented smile on his face as he gazes down at you, at the way that you are beginning to love him back, at the way that you already do. 

“This.”

The words barely leave his lips before he’s pressing them against yours, and the moment you touch him you know, you know that it’s him, that it’s Seokjin, that he is the man that you have been waiting for. Immediately your body lights up, electric shocks tearing through your veins, blood set alight. He is so familiar, smells and tastes and feels so familiar, like you have known him for a thousand years and you’ll know him for a thousand more. You get the same sensation you had when you last kissed him, all those nights ago, your body going weak, your skin turning to flames, but there’s something else, too. 

A burst in your chest. A puff of smoke in your heart. 

A fireplace. A little room in your heart, just for the two of you. For you. For your love. 

You think you could get used to this. 

He pulls away after a few moments and immediately you feel dizzy, like his lips were the only thing keeping you stable, closing your eyes as you burn the feeling into your brain, memorize how his mouth presses against yours. 

When you finally open them, there Seokjin sits, kiss-drunk and in love, this goofy, wonderful smile on his face. 

“I’m still angry at you for not telling me. You could have saved us so much time,” you declare, not wanting the moment to last too long for fear that you’ll become obsessed.

Seokjin laughs, pressing a quick kiss to your nose. “Even if you forgot who I was tomorrow, I wouldn’t tell you,” he says, this stupid perfect grin on his face, this gorgeous, brilliant grin, “because I would happily fall in love with you all over again.”

God, he is so beautiful. A dream come true. A happy ever after.

The following morning your father saves you the trouble of having to awkwardly explain why you don’t feel comfortable continuing to oversee the resort hotel by letting you know that you’re welcome back in the central building in town and that he’ll have another executive replace you. Thank God, because that would have been one strange phone call. 

Luckily, when your parents do eventually meet Seokjin, they are pleased to see that he’s been a loyal hotelier to your family’s conglomerate for several years now, and that he excels at his job. You also think that your mother’s just gotten softer over the years, wishing more for you to be happy than for you to be married to someone you hate. 

It’s a good thing Seokjin’s charming. Otherwise, you have no idea what could have happened. But he’s here, and he’s with you, and your parents are happy and so are you. What more could you ask for?

“Your mom really didn’t have to throw this whole party just for me,” Seokjin whispers into your ear as the music plays on inside, this soft classical sound that Yoongi had composed not too long ago. 

You turn around to look back in through the window, watching all of the guests waltzing along to the song. Jungkook’s in the back corner, behind the grand piano, and you can see him throwing winks Yoongi’s way every now and then. The sound of the party is barely audible from out here, in the stars’ silence, in the faint way the night whispers, this distant white noise.

“Throwing parties is her thing,” you explain helplessly. “Besides, you’re part of the family now, aren’t you?”

“Hey now, we aren’t married just yet,” he reminds you pointedly. “Unless you—?”

“Only after my father’s retirement next month,” you tell him for the umpteenth time. It’s not that you don’t want to be married. It’s that you don’t have time. You’re about to inherit an entire empire. You would prefer not to be juggling two major life events at once, if you can help it. “Besides, you don’t even have a ring.”

“How do you know that?” He asks innocently.

You smack him in the torso with your satin-gloved hand, shocked. “What?”

“I never said anything,” he teases, looking off to the side far too guiltily for your liking. 

You place your hands on your hips and turn firmly to face him. “Kim Seokjin, do you want to marry me?” You demand. 

Seokjin laughs, twirling you around before pressing a kiss to your lips, the two of you giggling. “Always!” He declares to the world. “I think about marrying you every day of my life.”

You grin. “Then we will. Then let’s get married. After my father’s retirement, of course.”

“Of course,” Seokjin agrees. 

“What do you think the theme should be?” You ask, racking your brain for potential options. You like the idea of a rustic, cottage-y wedding. Or perhaps a more celestial one. Or maybe, if you wanted to go full circle, a masquerade.

Seokjin smiles. It’s clear he already has his answer. 

“How about Cinderella?”

↳ links are broken, but don’t forget to message me with any thoughts or feedback!

[paper-n-ashes]

The Late Shift

Characters: Paul Sevier x Female Reader

Words: 2k

Warnings/Tags: There’s actually none (I hope). I know. I’m surprised too.

Authors Note: This is so dumb. I’m aware. Look, I’ve been dealing with a horrendous writers block and shattered confidence and I made Paul Sevier gifs to ease my pain. It turned into this. I just wanted to try something a little cute and fluffy to get back into the swing of things. So... here it is.

*

It was going to be a long night.

Stuck on the Wednesday evening shift for the third time this month, you mindlessly fiddled with the pen in your hand. Twirling it between your fingers, your mind drifted away from the present moment, wondering why your boss seemed to dislike you so much to keep you here past 6pm in the middle of the week. He’d always been adamant this was prime selling time for this boutique suit store, with corporate clients needing to do their shopping outside of normal business hours.

You, however, knew keeping this place open was senseless, barely seeing more than a few unenthusiastic customers in these agonizingly slow stretches. Working on commission also made you all the more bitter about being paid minimum wage to stand behind a counter and doodle sketches of imaginary clients dressed in the outfits you personally tailored. This isn’t where you thought a Bachelor of Arts in Fashion Design would take you, that’s for sure.

“H-hello,” you heard a deep voice quietly greet you, startling you into focus. “Are you busy? I… think I need a little help.”

Eyes flickering up from the notepad, you were sure your pupils blew wide at the sight of the man in front of you. Standing at an imposingly large height, his hair a severely murky shade of black, with honeyed irises shining brightly behind delicate spectacles.

A human personification of tall, dark and handsome. Well, except for the clothes.

The stranger wore the layered combination of a grey tweed jacket and argyle patterned sweater, arranged over a particularly heinous, mustard-coloured button up. While the ensemble made you internally cringe, it gave him an air of intelligence, like the kind that hangs around stuffy, old college professors who have more academic accolades than you have fingers and toes.

“Me?” you coughed out, knowing full well you were the only other person in this tiny little shop. “Uh, yeah. I mean- No, no I’m not busy. What is it you need help with?” Even when you stood, the man towered above you, making you silently begin to calculate the high-numbered measurements you’d need to fit him in something.

“I have an important meeting scheduled for Friday. You know, the type you need to wear a suit to?” Evidently the thought of it made him nervous, as you noticed his cheek twitch slightly, his eyes scanning momentarily at the garments filling the space. “I’m… uh… not so great with clothes.”

Clearly, you chuckled inside your head, holding the word from your tongue. “You want me to pick out something for you?”

He took a defeated breath, his mouth twisting into an awkward yet wonderfully endearing smile. “Would you mind? Only if it’s not too much trouble.”

“No trouble!” you burst, maybe a little too excitedly. “It’s my job!” Bounding out from behind the counter you’d been imprisoned by, you moved directly to the section of classic navy business suits. Slim line. Something to accentuate his well-built frame, rather than hide it away. You had to pause, swivelling back around to the dumbfounded man. “Is price an issue… uh…?”

“Paul,” he answered for you, slowly moving to where you stood. “And… I suppose not. Probably should spend the money on something that will last. If you think it’s a good idea.”

Oh thank god, you mused without showing the relief on your face. He’s not some rich asshole trying to flash his cash. “A good suit can last you five years, if you treat it right.” Your hand reached over to graze one of the deepened blue sleeves of a jacket at your left. “And a classic colour will never go out of style.”

Paul let out an embarrassed chuckle. “I think you’ve already noticed how lacking in style I am…” He glanced to your nametag, murmuring your name with a goofy smirk curling his lips. You’d never seen a grown man, especially not one of this stature, appear so adorable. It was horribly distracting.

“I’m sure you have expertise in other areas,” you stumbled, realizing only when the words came out how offensive they might seem. Yet Paul conceded to your comment, his rumbling laugh making your chest feel tight.

“Debatable,” he shrugged. “I’m just glad I found some qualified personnel to help me in this instance.”

Oh boy. Humble and charming? You were in so much trouble. Surely someone as sweet as this had another waiting for them at home. “I’m sure your partner could help you pick out something nice too.”

“Not an option in my case.”

Shit. Single too. You were truly fucked.

You turned, trying to calm your erratic heartbeat by focusing on finding an outfit that would contain his longer limbs. Plucking out a matching jacket and trouser set, with an ivory, collared button-up, you offered them to Paul, his features having melted into a sweetened look of intrigue. “Go and try these on. There’s a changeroom just behind the counter. See how they feel, and we can go from there.”

He nodded, taking the pieces with both of his large hands and shuffling away to where you’d pointed to. No sooner than the latch had locked were you dashing to where your phone was sitting at the register, flitting out a rushed text message to your favourite co-worker.

There was rustling you heard emanating from the changeroom stall, doing your best to ignore the urge of picturing Paul, a man you’d met only minutes ago, gradually slipping off his clothes to reveal the toned muscles underneath. You grimaced at yourself, shaking your head to banish the imaginations. God this was unprofessional.

Finally, a response lit up on your phone screen.

You laughed softly through your nose, about to type a reply when you heard the lock click open again. The breath in your lungs was stuck as Paul made his way out, the expensive textiles draping over his burly frame in a way that made your whole body tense.

He rustled a hand through his hair, looking up to you while fidgeting with the starchy material stretched over his chest. “Does it look okay?”

After all these years working this job, the enticing novelty of attractive men in well-fitted suits had slowly worn off, especially when most of them treated you with about as much respect as the used gum they spit out onto the sidewalk. Suddenly, all those preconceived notions were gone. On Paul, this ensemble instantly became the most captivating thing in the entire universe.

The inside of your mouth flooded with saliva, having to swallow hard before speaking again. “Great… it looks… great.” You did your best to conceal a settling exhale. “What do you think? How does it feel?”

Paul shifted to look at his reflection in the mirror, pupils trailing up and down, flexing his limbs in an attempt to get a proper impression of the new apparel. “It feels really good. Makes me look… sophisticated.” He turned to you, his expression unsure. “Right?”

Your smile was sparkling, nodding to his question. There was a small amount of work to do, noting how in your effort to make sure everything complemented his physique, you’d oversized him. The waistline of the jacket needed to be taken in, the shoulder lines sitting slightly off, and the trouser length needing to be taken up slightly. “A couple of adjustments and it’ll be perfect.”

“You mean taking it to be tailored?”

“No need.” You pulled out the wheel of berry pins from your pocket, kneeling down on the floor next to Paul’s feet. “All our tailoring is included in the price. Done completely in house.” You began to fold the bottom edge of his pants, pinning it to an adequate length. “I can have it ready for you tomorrow, all ready for your Friday meeting.”

“You do all the tailoring yourself?” Paul asked as you slinked another pin through the fabric.

“Sure do,” you chirped, moving onto the other leg. “3 years at a design school taught me a few things about cutting and sewing.” With the hemlines in place, you straightened in front of him, plucking out a roll of measuring tape from your other pocket. “I just… need to take a few measurements to properly alter the jacket.”

His cheek twitched, the line of his jaw seeming somewhat strained. “Sure. F-fine. Do what you gotta do."

You went with determining his arm length first, feeling out the boney point of his shoulder and striping the lined tape all the way down to his wrist. Then, after taking a deep inhale, you curled your arms around his hips, focusing hard on the little black numbers to ignore the fact Paul’s breath had started to skate over your skin with this close proximity. It was when you were lining up the thickened stripes indicating his chest circumference that you made the mistake of peering up, finding his alluring stare fully concentrated on you.

There was a moment. A spark to waiting kindling. Where impulse could have led you to do a dangerous thing. You’d never been the hasty type, never acted without considerable thought. Usually so shy and composed, never making the first move. Although right now, you could scarcely hold yourself back, desperate to know the sensation of Paul’s lips, how they’d move over yours, what they tasted like.

No. This was so inappropriate.

The compulsion was about to wither away when you felt a hand skim up your waist, the lightened touch shooting a thrill over your skin.

“Excuse me,” a gruff voice called from your side. “How much are these dress socks?”

You immediately stepped back, smacked into reality again. “$12.99. Exactly what it says on the box.”

The older gentlemen scrutinized the packaging, lids narrowed until he finally saw the numbers plastered at the border. “Oh, right. Eh, a little expensive for my taste. Thanks anyway.”

Flustered, you began to coil the measuring tape into its resting spiral, forcefully glaring at the floor. “I’m all done. You can get dressed into your own clothes now.”

In your periphery you saw Paul regarding you with a gentle nod, walking back into the changeroom without another word. Every part of you wanted to sink beneath the wooden floorboards, so horrendously embarrassed you could feel a smoldering heat prickle at your cheeks. Only to relieve some of the nervous energy, you ran to your phone.

Again, Paul was exiting out of the stall just as you were going to submit your reply, placing the neatly arranged garments over the counter. It was difficult to look directly at him, having to summon all remaining shards of your courage to drift your eyes up to his face. “Was there anything else you needed?”

His mouth parted, only to quickly snap shut, scratching at his hairline in the seconds it took for him to give you a response. “No. Nothing else. Unless there’s something more you think I need.”

You shook your head, wishing you could give another answer just to keep him here. “You’re all set.” The full price of his items flashed on the monitor in front of you, spouting it to him as your fingers flicked across the keyboard to finalize the purchase, with a personal discount that wouldn’t show on the receipt.

“When should I come by to pick it up?” he queried, passing you his credit card. “Oh, but there’s no pressure. Whenever you have the time is just fine.”

An idea flared. “If you give me your number, I can text you when it’s ready.”

“That works for me.”

Erasing all evidence of the conversation you’d been having, you brought up the number pad, handing your phone over. Paul swiftly typed in his details before placing it back in your palm. ‘Paul the Suit Guy’ the contact read, unable to stifle your laugh.  

“So I’ll see you tomorrow?” His eager expression made your heart quiver through a beat.

“Y-yeah,” you stammered. “I’ll see you then.”

Paul waved his hand in an awkward flourish to signal his goodbye, eventually moving far enough from your vision for you to finally take a full, relaxed breath. In a dazed hurry, you keyed in your returning message to your co-worker.

It was the precise moment your thumb had pressed into the ‘Send’ button that you realised your recipient wasn’t the one you’d intended.

You’d sent this message straight to Paul.

Fuck. Oh fuck. This was bad.

While you were scrambling to formulate a believable excuse, a new message popped up onto the screen.

Tags for my lovelies who might tolerate this nonsense: @tlcwrites @roanniom @princessxkenobi @hopeamarsu @blowthatpieceofjunk @mariesackler @leatherboundriot @foxilayde @modernpaw @cornmousequeen @direnightshade @safarigirlsp @blackberries45 @mylifeisactuallyamess @caillea @jynzandtonic @beskarbabs​

[bluebellhairpin]

The Silence In Between

Jaeger Pilot!Levi Ackerman X Engineer!Reader

Part One

A/N: I know what I said about the writing thing, but this just happened over time and I finally finished it. - Nemo 

Warning(s): Injuries. Character Death. *sighs* Drfiting. 

Summary: 

Listening to: ‘When We Were Young’ by Take That - ‘We were drawn to whoever could keep us together and bound by the heavens above’ 

Series Masterlist 

Masterlist 

The Drift wasn’t something to be taken lightly. As years passed, Levi was the one person who knew about that the most. 

From his first three-pilot Jaeger, to the one he piloted with Hange - and everything in between - he’d been through so many co-pilots that he used to think his time was coming soon. It had to be. He was too tired for it to not be. 

It had been a week since he sparred with (y/n), and things were going as smoothly between the two as it had before the intense training session. But it still didn’t explain the weird feeling in his chest that he kept denying. And the fact that he didn’t really feel like dying in a Jaeger cockpit anymore. 

Then, for the first time since the early-morning beating, he suited up to go fight a Kaiju. Their tech gave them the ‘OK’ that they’d drifted properly, and Hange was already sending Levi looks from his right. 

“You and the engineer, huh?” 

“Shut up.” He said, finishing up prepping their Jaeger to be dropped in the ocean. He caught Hange’s eyes, seeing them with a no-good glint in them. 

“I’m not in your head as much as you are, but I sure as hell could see it coming.” They laughed. “You’re so dense.” 

“Hange, I-”

“- Ackerman. Zoe.” Erwin said, his ever-prominent ‘I’m the Marshall’ tone cutting Levi off before he could finish his threat. “You’ll be lifted off-base in T minus 3 minuets. You’ll be dropped in the Philippine sea. You’ll be fighting a category III Kaiju, dubbed by our Loccent Officer here as Anago -”

“- Nice name -” 

“- Hange. Please.” 

“Sorry.”

“As I was saying,” Levi could practically hear Erwin rolling his eyes. “It’s a category III Kaiju. It’s not something you haven’t fought before, but our sensors are picking up that it’s still pretty big. And moving fast. We’ll have Warrior Titan and her pilots on standby the moment things start looking like they’re moving downhill. It’s too early in the morning to have anyone die.”

Levi wondered if there was any time for anyone to die. 

By the time Levi got back to the Tokyo Shatterdome it was past noon. He was too tired to function properly. His eyes kept drooping, and his legs felt wobbly. 

He hadn’t felt like that since the day Ewrin lost his arm. 

Or when Furlan and Isabel died. 

These things kept happening. Bad things. And it was never to him. Always to his co-pilots. He hated it. With every fiber of his being he wished he could go back and save them. To have been able to keep Furlan and Isabel alive. To have been able to save Erwin from losing his arm. To have moved that much faster to save Hange.

Sure, Hange was laying across from him in the medbay, but they might’ve as well died. 

Looking back, one of the worst things about having Erwin ripped from the jaeger cockpit next to him wasn’t the fact he was sure Erwin had died - no, it was finding out he was alive and having to wait for if Erwin would even wake up. Now he was doing it all over again.

After spending the rest of his day with Hange Levi was ushered out of the medbay for the doctors to do their checks. He took the time he wasn’t allowed by Hange’s side to go to the mess hall to pretend to get something to eat. He was vaguely aware of what time it was, but when he got there he was a little surprised to find it was empty. 

He was even more surprised when - after he’d made himself comfortable at one of the many tables, nursing a mug of untouched tea - you stumbled in, looking as worse for wear as he was. 

Your tech overalls were tied haphazardly around your waist, your hair was messier than usual, and there were shiny grease stains all over your hands, forearms and tank top. If he squinted he thought he could see some on your cheek too. But your appearance wasn’t entirely unusual. 

He still liked it - only because it was normal. No other reason. 

What was unusual was that you were pouring hot, tar-like coffee from it’s urn into your bowl instead of the evening’s soup - of which was located on the other end of the room. You were tired. Very tired. Levi wondered what the hell you were working on to get you so exhausted. 

He watched you turn from the urn, still unaware of your ‘not-soup’ situation, and somehow navigate to take a seat on the table next to his. You sat right across from him, one table over, and still hadn’t noticed him staring at you yet. 

He also watched you raise your full spoon to your mouth. He had thought about saying something. But the thought of your reaction also crossed his mind, and he decided to go with staying quiet instead. 

Unfortunately the only reaction he got was you looking very confused. 

“It’s coffee you dumbass.” Your head shot up, meeting his eyes almost instantly. You rolled your eyes.

“Yeah, I know that now. Dumbass.” you said, dropping the spoon to simply drink straight out of the bowl French-style. “How’s Hange going?” You asked, voice much quieter, and much more gentle than you’d ever used with him before.

“Hange -” he started, letting out a sigh as he ran a hand through his hair, “- Hange is okay. At least from what everyone keeps saying.” 

“Good.” you hummed, “And you?”

“What about me?” He asked, bringing his mug up to his lips to take a long and unsatisfyingly cold mouthful of tea. He set the cup aside, scowling at it. 

“I’ve never piloted a real Jaeger before, Ackerman, but I do know that when things like this happen to one of the pilots, they actually happen to both.” He looked over at you, squinting. “So how are you?”

He didn’t think he’d been asked that in a while.

“What,” Levi said, “did you just say?” 

Erwin sighed. He knew this was coming, Levi could tell he did because he sighed. Erwin moved, his chair squeaking across the floor of his office as he lent forwards to address Levi more seriously. 

“You and I both know Hange won’t do well in a Jaeger anymore.” Erwin said. “As much as you know I’d hate to say it, you should seriously consider the possibility of finding a new co-pilot.” 

“I’d rather not.”

“I know.”

“I’d rather retire.”

“I know.”

“Why can’t I retire?” Levi asked. He knew the answer to that too. He just wanted to finally hear it. 

“You’re too big of an asset to just,” Erwin gestured, “let go. Your knowledge of Kajiu’s and skill in a Jaeger is unparalleled. Only Miche and Nanaba come close to your level and they’re -”

“- on maternity leave. I know -” 

“- so having you out of commission right now isn’t something my higher-ups are keen on.”

A couple beats past. Erwin and Levi kept looking at each other. They both also knew the solution to this new problem - finding Levi a new partner. 

“We need to bring in the engineer.”

“Don’t.”

“We have no choice, Levi.” Erwin squinted at Levi. “You weren’t so defensive the other times.” 

When Isabel and Furlan were replaced with Erwin. When Erwin was replaced with Hange. It was true, Levi barely battered an eyelid at them all being replaced - mainly because he did know them all fairly well before they joined him in the drift. They were all originally from the same batch of cadets. With you, however, it was a little different. 

Sure, he did know you - for a couple years now - but he also knew that your connection ran deeper than just being ‘drift compatible’. That scared him.

“I’m tired, Erwin.” Levi lied. “I just want it to be over.” 

“We all do, Levi.”

“Huh.” 

Levi raised his eyes at you.

“Is that all you have to say?” he said, “‘Huh’?” You quickly caught yourself, wiping your dirty fingers across your jumpsuit, and shaking our head.

“No, no, no, sorry,” you stuttered, “I just - it’s only just kicking in.”

He asked you to be his co-pilot. 

Hange had woken up yesterday afternoon, and there was nothing anyone could do about the lack of an eyeball they were now suffering from. They were no-longer fit to pilot the left hemisphere, seeing as the injury would be a hindrance. But you as a replacement for the dominant side of a Jaeger? 

“I can’t do that.”

Levi blinked at you.

“What?’ 

“I can’t pilot a Jaeger, Ackerman.” you said, shaking your head again. “Not one of such high of a reputation at least. I -”You were cut off by Levi grabbing your arm, yanking you away from the crew working on the Warrior Titan, and into a very small, and barely lit space.

That bastard pulled you into a supply closet. 

“Listen brat, and you better listen pretty damn well -” he said, his grip still tight on your arms, “- you train like a pilot. You want to be a Ranger, and this is your chance. In this world you make decisions - your choice is either one you agree with, or you regret. Make sure you don’t regret a single thing.” 

His words were dead serious, and you were planning on taking them seriously. But his eyes - they were saying something you couldn’t understand. Become a Ranger, live life to the fullest, regret nothing. Stay an engineer, stay safe, regret nothing. He was telling you to say yes, and to say no, at the same time. 

And he was also very, very, very close to you right now. And there was too little room inside that room. 

So you ran away.

Not even a few hours later, Marshall Erwin himself came to find you - and you made sure to put yourself somewhere where even the other engineers would struggle to find you. But he found you anyway - crammed in the space between a Jaeger’s breastplates and it’s reactor core.

Bastard.

“Ranger Ackerman said you didn’t respond too well to his offer.” he said. You sighed, dropping your tool in your lap. “Why did you run?” 

“I don’t really know.” You wiped your forehead with your arm, and then rested your hands on your hips as you looked up at him. He looked back at you, steely eyes softening, and he took a moment to sit down with you. 

“You don’t have to know, so I’ll rephrase.” he said, “Does it not feel wrong?” 

“No! God, no.” you said quickly, waving a hand out at him. “No it feels right. It’s just, it’s scary. The idea of going into that cockpit with him when he’s had so many others go through his brain like that. You, and Hange, as well as the other two he started with - that’s already more people than any other pilot in our history. I…”

“You don’t know if you can handle it.” Erwin finished. He stood, smoothing out his clothes and brushing off the dirt, then looked down at where you still sat. “If it helped ease your mind, he wouldn’t have talked to you about it at all if he didn’t think you could do it.”

“They’re not coming.”

“They have to.”

“They won’t.”

“Jeezus Levi, have some faith. I know the new copilot thing isn’t something you want to do but try to not act like you’ll miss me in your head that much.” He almost liked the idea of Hange being back in the med bay rather than watching from up in coms with Moblit. 

But deep, deep, deep inside, he was glad that Hange was awake now. 

After Erwin went to talk to you, he went back to Levi and they spoke a little more. Levi agreed to being nice on your first day. But inside he was adding if you even showed up. 

“Better quit daydreaming Ackerman, or I’ll start piloting this hunk without you.” 

He swiveled his head, turning to the left to see you standing there waiting to get ‘locked’ into place. Unfortunately, you looked really good in the drivesuit, and that was unfortunate only because you would know he thought that in, like, five minutes. 

You’d know everything in, like, five minutes. 

“You’d better be ready for this.” he said, looking over at you with an intensity only an Ackerman could pull off. “Don’t make me look like a fool.” A smile slowly creeped onto your face. 

“You know, technically I’m in charge. You should stop bossing me around.”

“Oh damn -” Hange’s voice cut through your coms, “- I like this one Levi.” 

“Shut up Hange.”

You’d prepared yourself for the drift. 

Erwin had given you a file the night before, barely an hour after you went to him and said you’d do it. It was a lot of paperwork, and a surprisingly vague amount of information. 

But was it enough?

Levi had been through hell and back, and now you’d get a front-row seat to all of it. But at least you were a little prepared. 

You guessed, also, that Erwin gave Levi some info on you too. Not that there was a lot of it. Or any of it. Not compared to what was in his head anyway. 

“Initiating the neural handshake in three… two… one…” 

A jolt went down your spine, through your arms, to your fingers and down to your toes. Memories flashed behind your closed eyes, blurry and rushed. 

Playing outside with your father. 

Reading with your sister. 

The first kaiju reached the news. 

Not being comparable with anyone in training. 

Sparring with Levi a few days ago. 

You sucking in a deep breath. No chasing the rabbit. Let the memories go. Then Levi’s memories hit. 

Growing up with his mother and uncle. 

Kaijus. 

Living at the shatterdomes.

Losing his friends. Again. And Again. 

You stumbled where you stood, opening your eyes and looking over at Levi. He was already looking at you, asking if you were okay without speaking. You nodded, letting out a shaky laugh as you smiled. 

“This is amazing.” you gasped. 

“I know.” he said, but you heard a different reply. ‘Just like you.’ 

You heard a lot, felt more too. The overwhelming emotions you got from drifting with Levi was more than you expected. He felt more than he let on. 

“How about taking her out for a run?” You offered, distracting yourself from overthinking about everything too much with the buttons and screens around you.

“What do you think Levi?” Erwin asked. 

“You ought to know what I think Smith. They wouldn’t have offered otherwise.” 

“Copy that Ranger,” Erwin scoffed, “We’ll get you ready to go out.” 

A beat passed, you side-eyed Levi, letting a giggle slip. He huffed beside you, and the jaeger weight shifted with you as you both lent your weight on a different foot. 

“What now?” 

“You like how my shoulders look in my tank top, huh?”

“You like staring at my ass so we’re even.” 

Series Taglist: @tanyeonn​ 

Series Taglist is Open! 

[jingmcastle]

ART COMMISSIONS ARE OPEN! SEND ME TO SCHOOL!

I just recently lost my job and am in need of help. Some of you may recognize me as xXAonoNYmouSPXx from AO3 and FF.net. Now I’m here to confess the real reason why I haven’t updated, and let’s be frank here. Fanfics, as much as I enjoy them, do not send me to school. Yes, I am a working student all this time so you can imagine that when I’m not busy with college, I have to work but now I lost that source of income. My earnings are small, but it’s enough to pay my tuition for each semester.

I am not asking for donations (although I will gratefully accept them), so I am here to offer my services.

If you think my art style suits your tastes and would like to hire my hand then feel free to do so! AND PLEASE REBLOG THIS POST.

Notes to consider for potential buyers:

I accept Paypal only.

Those who only wish to donate can go to my Ko-Fi page.

I work fast. Buyers will only have to wait 1 to 3 days to receive their project. The simpler (ex. line arts) the piece, the faster the delivery time. I will inform buyers when they can expect me to deliver.

First come, First served. For the fairness of everyone, I may ask for extensions if there are others still waiting ahead before your request.

I am negotiable and easy to communicate. Buyers can expect a reply from me in 1 hour upon messaging me. If I did not reply immediately, it just means that I’m asleep.

Buyer’s Terms of Use. All commissions requested from me will be under the buyer’s personal use only. A fee must be paid if the buyer wishes to use the commissioned piece for commercial use and/or full ownership rights.

Anonymity. If the commission requested will be based on a real-life person, say it’s for a gift, buyers are required to include a reference photo of said person. However, rest assured that photos of these people will not be leaked or used whatsoever, and will immediately be deleted once the commissioned piece is complete.

Sketches. Yes, buyers can request a sketch from me before I do the major process.

Details. Buyers can be as detailed with the descriptions as they want or can give me full creative freedom.

Credits. Buyers are obligated to properly credit me (jingmcastle), along with a link of this post, when posting at whichever platform of their choosing.

I can work with any genre.

Restrictions. The only commissions I will not accept are those that connotate anything offensive towards race, gender, political bias, and religion.

Currency. I accept any currency. The prices in the post are there to serve as a guide to how much my work are usually worth.

Anime/Manga only? No, I can work with any character (real, in games, books, Original characters, etc.) as long as it’s understood that my art style will be applied on the commissioned piece.

How it works:

Send me a direct message here on tumblr, or discord (jmcastle#0437), or a mail at jmhikari09@gmail.com with a title: “Commission: (please specify whether: Line art, Manga-Style, Colored Figure with or without Background, Webtoon)”

The buyer and I will work out the details of the commission.

Once everything is accounted for, the buyer is required to reblog this post.

Depending on the buyer’s request, I can send sketches and concept art.

For small pieces (Line art, Manga-Style, Colored Figures with and without background), payment must be sent in full. For WEBTOONS, a down payment of 60% the agreed price must be paid first. *Please send a screenshot of the receipt for proof that you have sent the payment, I will also do the same when I receive the payment.

I will send the buyer a FULL WATERMARKED version of the piece for final verification and in case revisions are needed to be done.

Once I have confirmed and received full payment, I will send the file to the buyer’s email.

The buyer is free to use the piece for personal use. *If the buyer wishes to post it at social media or other platforms, my signature will not be removed and they are required to properly credit me as the artist along with a link of this post included in the caption. **If the buyer has properly paid a fee for commercial use, my signature will not be removed from the piece and proper credit must still be followed. ***If the buyer has properly paid the fee for full rights over the piece, they are free to remove my signature and use it however they wish. *Failure to follow Step 8 will result in retraction of buyer’s use over the commissioned piece, and being flagged for plagiarism and art theft. 

Standard sizes and resolution: 

All works will initially be set at 300dpi resolution in an A4 canvas size. 

For WEBTOONS, it will initially be at a width of 11.11 inches and the length will depend on how many frames there will be. * Buyers are free to give their own dimensions if they want.

Feel free to message me for questions as well.

Please be reminded that all the work and payment I receive through this will go towards my earnings in order to send myself through school and, if there are more, pay the bills at home. Thank you all and have a nice day! Ciao~!

[destinyandcoins]

Fanfic ask! F, H, K

((Ok so I HAD an answer like 75% finished and then tumblr glitched and now all I’ve just got is a blank blue page so....here’s attempt #2))

First of all thank you friend, this is like 15 minutes worth of me ignoring my homework and I very much appreciate it.

for this ask game

F: Share a snippet from one of your favorite dialogue scenes you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

Hmmmmmmmmm ok. well in the interest of time, I’m just gonna pull two random moments I really love from two different fics of mine instead of trying to hunt for any actual favorites because that would...take a while.

Five made a thoughtful sound. “Actually that would make sense; the Commission had a file on Dad because he snatched up so many of us miracle babies, and his origin was listed as ‘extraterrestrial’.”

A beat, and then chaos erupted.

“You’re not serious, there’s no way--”  Allison started.

“Okay Five, ha ha, has this whole thing been a joke--?”

“AN ALIEN?” Diego demanded, his voice cracking through two different octaves.

“Wait that’s not--okay maybe aliens are real but Dad?”

“The truth is out there--”

“I KNEW IT,” Klaus was hollering over top of everyone else’s voices. “I TOLD YOU, I F--”

“SHUT UP there is NO WAY--”

“--would have known, we definitely would have been able to--”

“...Well if you think about it--”

Five let out a sudden and piercing whistle that managed to silence all of them.

This is from my TUA Shocktober fic Extra Ordinary, where the siblings have a calm and reasonable discussion about the possibility that their father is an alien. I adore trying to capture the Mass Chaos that is the Hargreeves siblings, and having grown up in a home with six kids I remember fondly those moments where you’re literally screaming to be heard over the rest of them as you all react to one thing or another, and it’s just wonderful pandemonium.

“Vanya!” he cried, catching sight of her slumped over the staircase railing. “Vanya, what day is it today?”

“Um, Thursday? The 16th, I think?” she offered weakly, but Klaus just shook his head.

“Stupid question, I didn’t know what day it was the first time,” Klaus muttered, already heading for the stairs. He waved dismissively at something to his left that could have been Ben, or could have been actual empty air, and called back over his shoulder, “Vanya, honey, go back to bed-- trust me when I say I’ve seen healthier ghosts.”

This is from my Gen June TUA fic If At First You Don’t Succeed. Time loops!! They’re so much fun!!! They’re even more fun when the person who’s in the loop is the least-suited person to be in a time loop! Poor Klaus takes a little while to actually confirm he’s in a loop because. well. he’s disaster. he’s trying his damnedest to stick to ye old How To Time Loop manual (step one: confirm you’re in a time loop), but he’s not really cut out for this kind of thing. Also, I like when Klaus makes jokes about his powers.

H: How would you describe your style?

Style is....hard to describe about yourself, I think. I would say I’m driven more to introspective and emotional hurt/comfort subject material, and as part of that I think my writing tends to be heavy on the stylistic flourishes that will emphasize whatever mood I’m going for and very focused on character’s feelings/reactions/senses. I love to consider perspective/perceptions and playing with an unreliable narrator to great effect....

however. upon actually looking at my published Ao3 works, I see that most of my writing tends towards humorous and makes use of dry or ironic lines to set a specific tone, so. maybe I’m just not a good judge of my own style?

K: What’s the angstiest idea you’ve ever come up with?

Welll...........my top two angstiest ideas are not written quite yet but I’m working on them, and in the interest of not spoiling too much I’ll just say there’s one that’s closer to being published (I just don’t want to start publishing until I have more of a buffer), and the opening scene covers a Klaus and Ben who are strangely the only people to have noticed their long-lost brother has just dropped in in time for their dad’s funeral :)

Thanks again for sending this!! <3