#i just cant even imagine being able to be around another person and feel okay

[gaystardykeco]

the one good thing about being all alone is that i have been more stable maybe? like less full breakdowns more just like random crying which is better i guess? im just so fucking lonely like i wish i could just miss talking to ppl less

[hannieehaee]

Svt as tropes

seventeen as tropes

content: crushes, fluff, some of these are idol!aus (as in the member is an idol, not reader), etc.

wc: 884

a/n: these are just tropes that come to mind when i think of each member. i tried to keep it varied and original <3

masterlist

seungcheol -

enemies to lovers - he seems like he can be maybe a lil bit cocky at times (with reason, i mean have you seen him ..), so i think itd be possible to start off the wrong foot with him. he's also pretty stubborn, so pair with him another stubborn individual and you have a dragged out love story that begins with rivals and ends with a very fiery relationship.

jeonghan -

coworkers to lovers - jeonghan seems like an extremely charming and interesting guy who doesnt even have to try. im 100% sure people who work around him fall for him every single day. i think he'd be very entertained by the idea of crushing on a staff member/coworker. it would make him look forward to work and make him always seek you out while on the job.

joshua -

childhood friends to lovers - he seems the type that would keep a special someone in his heart for a very long time, even if it was just as friends. leaving his home country so young, the distance would make him realize his feelings and end up with that one special person from back home.

jun -

arranged marriage - okay not exactly arranged marriage but more so him being with someone his parents introduce him to! he seems to be a huge family oriented guy, so i see him ending up with someone his parents may have thought would be perfect for him. it'd start off as him giving it a chance to please his parents but ending up actually falling for this person.

soonyoung -

sunshine vs. grump - this concept isnt necessarily 100% black and white to me. but still i think maybe he would fall for someone who has a very contrasting personality his very positive and over the top demeanor. he'd enjoy the back and forth in which he'd act ridiculously to get his s/o to react while they pretended to be annoyed by him.

wonwoo -

long distance - idk if this is a trope ?? but i think wonwoo's love absolutely transcends any and every obstacle imaginable. i think he would be the definition of distance makes the heart grow fonder. he would cherish every single moment he got to be with you, constantly yearning for you any second he was away from you.

jihoon -

opposites attract - as someone who seems to keep to himself a lot and is a bit of a homebody, i think he would easily fall for someone who got him out of his comfort zone and got him to discover parts of himself he didnt know about before. would adore an s/o who was louder in nature and livelier, feeling some sort of nurturing sense in him come out whenever he was around them.

seokmin -

friends to lovers - its a classic for a reason! i cant understand how people dont constantly fall for seokmin but im 100% sure that if he had a crush on a friend of his, he would easily be able to charm them enough for them to reciprocate the crush. there would be a period of time of that cute back and forth in which he tried to 'court' them, ending up together in the end.

mingyu -

chance encounter - watching nana tour ive loved seeing how insanely outgoing and likable by strangers he is so i think that he would be the type to incidentally meet a person and subsequently fall for them. however, mingyu is a hopeless romantic so he wouldnt allow for this to be his one and only meeting. he would go to hell and back to reconnect.

minghao -

language barrier - ok ik this isnt actually a trope but i really do see minghao taking interest in a person who doesnt speak his language. i think that if a foreigner (in this case someone who does not speak korean or chinese) caught his attention, he would not be deterred by the language barrier and still seek them out. he would maybe even be more intrigued by the concept of communicating despite the barrier.

seungkwan -

found family - seungkwan is one of the sweetest and most likable people alive. im sure there's tons of people out there who consider him part of their found family. i think he'd be the type to become super close with that special someone (to the point of considering them as precious as his own family) only to eventually fall for them (and have them fall right back bc i mean its boo so how would you not fall for him!).

vernon -

class difference - i really see him falling for someone who's not in the industry. just someone who is an average person with an average life. this would obviously come with its complications, but i think he would enjoy the contrast between your lives and would live a regular life through your own.

chan -

mutual pining - contrary to popular opinion, i believe chan has insane rizz. however! i think he would be the type to have negative rizz when he has a crush on someone. he's still impossible to not fall for though, so this would lead to him and his future s/o to pine for each other for years, not realizing that their friendship could be more if one of then would just step up and confess.

[simplyreveries]

hewwoooo i was the anon who requested the trey + vil with plus-sized reader :3 i really love your writing!!!! so expect me to come back here pretty often :D you can call me 🫀 anon from now on hehe (and also expect all my requests to be platonic except for trey oop)

im here for another request !! may i request the shroud brothers, vil, leona and trey with an ignihyde!reader ?? my self-insert is actually an ignihyde student based on the fates so i cant really insert myself into twst x readers with yuu!reader lol. no pressure tho <3

here ya go!! I'm super happy you liked my other one, I apologize for this one's wait i got busy!<3

idia shroud

it’ll take a while for the two of you to become any sorts of close. i can imagine your meetings (even though he's your own DORM LEADER lmao) will be brief and vague, sometimes seemingly halfhearted when he is forced to tell his dorm something, to which he usually just messages.

you’ll find him lurking and leaving his room in the late hours to get something or go the sam's mystery shop if it's still open for instant food or stuff of that sorts. nevertheless, you still are an ignihyde student so you two do seem to get along pretty well. even in those short moments— he finds himself being okay around you.

i guess you could say he is relieved you're one of the few people who won't make idia feel utterly awkward or uncomfortable running into so that's definitely some sort of a relief for him. in fact, that usually entails you two ending up hanging out together or doing something stupidly fun together.

ortho shroud

aside from idia he actually did make an effort to get to know you in the first place and in his attempts to get idia out more, suggested you guys hang out at times! he’d claim and tell idia how interesting of a person you were— plenty of stories as someone who even has been or lived in their homelands, the shaftlands!! he wants to see everyone in the dorm get along well. so, you may see him actively trying to get you and idia to be friends as well haha

im sure you two did become unlikely friends though it's inevitable, especially with ortho. he is happy to see his brother get along with you, its very common soon enough that you guys commonly hang out together.

ortho is very sweet whenever you pass him by in the dorm or in school always saying "hello" or asking how you're feeling. he's happy to be able to get along with others in his dorm.

vil schoenheit

he's curious about you quite a bit considering he knows how the reputation of ignihyde students are well…. very reclusive and don't really interact much with others and other dorms. he has worked with ignihyde students in the past with favors and needing stuff for his film making club (like the magical wheel he needed for epel once) which usually makes him prompt to coming towards you a lot to inquire and get any tech and gadgets that could be used for films they're making… even if you may not be the most outgoing person, he’ll surprisingly feel quite easy to talk to.

if you tend to take on the habits of your fellow dormmates or your dorm leader, he will once in a while tell you to make sure you're taking care of yourself and make sure you're doing things like self-care or sleeping right. it's nothing harsh or anything but it's a small way he looks out for you as he gets closer to you throughout time.

you're like a favored student of his from that dorm, he has grown to be pretty fond of. you've piqued his interest enough and helped him out too that he does seem kinder to you in ways.

leona kingscholar

originally, he really had no interested talking to or frankly being around any of that dorm. besides like idia during dorm leader meetings, he barely even knew anyone there despite it being at least his 4th year in that school. he still finds it, unusual and even strange that you've become rather close to him (even if that may feel one sided but it's just leona ok)

he does tend to feel more content and okay with you if you’re more on the quieter side anyway. he does grow a small sense of fondness to you— he even finds himself slightly surprised as your the last person he expected to garner his attention. but nevertheless, you found yourself nicely close to him even if he doesn’t show it the best.

leona sometimes makes quips or teases about your own dorm, how considerably different the two may be. especially a lot at first before you two grew closer, he just found it strange almost, to find yourself close to him.

trey clover

its funny because besides like ortho or idia and maybe a few various students of that dorm here and there in the school— ever so introverted and quiet he doesn't see that many of your dorm. even cater himself admits he doesn't seem to really know or have any friends from that dorm and he's cater! trey will muse he’s beaten cater at that by dating one.

you may have to get used to his dorm being pretty social, considering all the events they hold whereas you’re probably used to the cold and quiet ignihyde dorms. you may have to even adjust whenever you decide to come over and see trey, especially with people like cater or ace who are heavily social.

he hopes you’ll grow and find yourself comfortable there, you’ll find him laughing bashfully when pointing out their antics in comparison to the dormmates you're used to. you'll find him chuckling asking how you manage to put up with some of them, he can only imagine how different it must be for you.

[the-s1lly-corner]

Uhh i request you

<-forgot everything about creepypasta after stopping reading fanfics

Uhhhhhhh

Um

...slenderman uhhhhm meeting reader who is the same.. species? Found family????? Reader being chipper and welcoming?? Artistic and calming?? Basically um. I dunno. They also live in the woods and collect poor souls, helping them cope and detach from this world??????

I am.. stoopid.

Slenderman x slender-person!artistic!reader ! (found family)

dusts out my slenderman hcs as well as my au ideas on him aheehee ahoo speed running this since i just put my first round of macarons into the oven and im too impatient to wait until theyre done baking for me to write this NEVER BACK DOWN NEVER WHAT

okay but im getting this idea out of the way before i forget. imagine the reader, instead of doing paintings and stuff for the "artist" thing they make little structures and statues and stuff and have them around in your area. of course theyre all made with forest material; mud, sticks, pinecones, ect ect i dont know, i just love the nature aesthetic with this idea and rrrraaaaaAAAAH

for some reason or another, you make your home in the same woods THE slenderman lives in; or perhaps it was the otherway around? regardless, it doesnt take long for you to become aware of one another....

okay but how funny would it be if you guys bonded over your annoyances over people collecting your stuff. people taking his pages, and people taking your art projects (at least the ones that are portable). like!

though i cannot think of any lore reasons for slendermans pages in my au.... i will one day i promise, i feel like thats too much of an iconic thing to just cut out

it DOES take a long while for slenderman to get used to you, much less foster a friendship with you... but a family bond? i mean yeah sure, hes very reclusive... but thats not just with humans. he doesnt like interacting with other creatures, either

pats your shoulder

my moot

my dear moot, allow me to go on a tangent about my take on slenderman

basic summary is that he and all other demon/most nonhuman creepypasta characters were made by zalgo in my funky au; basically to bring disorder and that kind of shit. but like in a "this is just a part of this universe's nature" way. thus making slenderman himself in my take the be a simple fact of life... thinks.. and he resents his own existence, i think. i mean how cruel is it that he was made to cause issues, in fact he cant live without it (eats people) but he was granted the ability to be able to grasp the complexity of morals and emotion. like thats fucked

i love it

anyways, theres that and him just naturally being reclusive! hell even his supposed "brothers" (splendor and trender, i refuse to touch the third one) hes still.. distant

basically what i mean to say is that you guys probably arent going to be.. outwardly close... if that makes sense. like hes not going to be very affectionate; so dont expect many familial... things... and its not often that he would seek conversation out... though

as i write that, if i recall correctly i did give him the vague craving of connection, and while i usually save that for traditional x reader stuff, i think this would still apply to found family stuff! so actually, i think he WOULD eventually start seeking your company out, just for the fact of having someone else to talk to who doesnt resent his existence the same way he resents his own

sits

given my silly hc i do think he would have some understanding with your relationship with humans/lost souls. would he do it himself? i think it really depends on the situation... like if hes not actively hunting he usually just drives people out of the woods, no sense in wasting.... things... you know?

sits

im all jumbled all over the place my apolocheese im just excited to write for slenderman again

will get annoyed if you snatch away his "meal" since AGAIN, he was cursed to feed on people . like he understands why you did it, and he has mixed feelings around eating human (like not in a "im distressed and i hate it" way more so "its not totally desirable but i cant survive without doing this" way)

sits

i think

im gonna toy around with my slenderman hcs... this ended up being more of a hc dump than a x reader, my apologies

its also that as im typing this i realize how similar my takes on eyeless jack and slenderman are... which is funny because they live in the same woods in my au but they fucking HATE each other

territorial stuff you know

[smashingdollz]

Hello! Can you do something with Adaman who has a shy gn s/o?

~ dykeobsidianblock.txt

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

hello! of course i can do that! thank you for the request! Ill do some HCs and a short story!

-hes always so patient with you, he just happily stares at you while you quietly speak your mind. he absolutely enjoys listening to your voice when you speak, and whenever people are too loud and talk over you, he speaks up for you and or tells them to be quiet so you can speak. and whenever you stammer and stutter he always assures you to take your time and that hes listening.

-he teases you a tiny bit, not anything major. just whenever he sees how nervous you act around him despite being together for so long he just cant help but smile and say, "I find it so cute how im still able to make you so shy around me even though we've been together for a while"

-as a shy person i tend to get extremely nervous and freak out in public spaces at times if its to crowded or loud. so whenever that happens and Adaman's not there to comfort you whenever you start freaking out and getting nervous, his Leafeon can somehow sense it and comes to find you and calm you down. it rubs its head against you releasing a calming smell that you love, (i heard that Leafeon is able to release smells from their leaves, so why not add it in). and when he sees the two of you together he sincerely apologizes for leaving you alone before he gently hugs the both of you.

-hes just always encouraging you, because he understand that being shy can sometimes lead you to feeling insecure of self conscious. so every time when you're feeling insecure of self conscious because of how you act hes always there to say otherwise. "its fine to act like this, its natural, and its okay. i love the way you act, it doesn't bother me at all. i couldn't imagine not spending the rest of my life with you, and only you" and whenever you make an attempt to be more outgoing in public he always praises you no matter what, even if you fail or had an awkward interaction with someone hes proud of you.

-Meli is one to definitely make comments on your shyness(if you stammer/stutter i feel like that something he'll mock you for), and some of the Diamond Clan members are too. Adaman makes sure to scold them publicly, because hes not letting anyone talk about his partner like that. and he spends the rest of they day with you making sure to push all your worries away.

(some small headcannons)

-when youre nervous he hold your hand. and he doesnt care if it gets sweaty, he'll smile at you as you wipe your hands on a cloth and he'll intertwine his hands with yours once again.

-if you dont want to talk or go out he dioesnt force you too, he'll happily spend the day with you at home. even if you protest and tell him he can go out he'd still stay with you.

-all of his Pokemon love you and are so defensive over you. whenever someone is making your uncomfortable they always get in a defensive stance.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

You and Adaman walked around the shopping district in Jubilife village together with Leafeon close to the two of you, and you close to him as he observed all the interesting items for sale. As the three of you were about to leave a booth to look at another both the three of you heard a set of voices calling out to you guys. You guys turned around to see, Akari and Rei, members in the Galaxy team. Adaman smiled and crossed his arms, "Oh hey, Akari, Rei, is there something wrong?" The two bowed and greeted you before doing the same to Adaman and answered his question.

"Camander Kamado is requesting your presence in his office, he has something he would like to discus with you" Rei said firmly. "And we came to ecort you!" Akari happily said. Adaman nodded at the two before facing you, "I have to go for a bit, but it wont take long okay? As soon as im done il come and get you straight away, okay. You'll be fine, you got this!?" You lightly gripped the fabric of the outfit you were wearing, "Oh.. uhm.. yea-yeah. Thats okay.. I'll be okay..!" You gave him a shy, yet encouraged smile. "Of course you will" He placed a hand on your shoulder and smiled. "Alright then we're off, i'll see you soon!" You silently stared as the four walked off to where they were needed. You were a bit nervous since Leafeon went along, but you were confident in yourself that nothing bad would happen.

You silently made your way to a nearby table and sat down and observed the scenery, theres were people shopping around, walking and chatting, eating, and some people were even just walking around with a Pokemon. Out of nowhere your breath began to hitch and you began slightly shaking, as you tried to calm yourself down someone suddenly pumped into you as they were walking by, "Oh, im sorry" they quickly say before before walking away, barley even caring that they bumped into someone. "Ah- uhm.. its oka-" you were cut of when you heard a piercing sound, you quickly covered your ears not wanting to hear anymore. You looked around a saw a group of children running around together screeching and laughing as they chases each other around. And the appearance on people started to freak you out more.

You began panting heavily and your put an immense force on your ears with the palms on your hands as a way to block out the sound. You closed your eyes and placed your head on the wooden table and moved your hands to your hair gripping it. You stayed like that for a while until you felt something rub your leg. You lifted up your hurting head and looked down, you saw Leafeon. You frowned a bit and teared up, thats when Leafeon jumped up on your legs and started rubbing its head on you, releasing its sweet aroma that always calmed you down in these types of situations. Tears brimmed your face as you embraced Leafeon into a hug. You were finally able to breath right and the shaking in your body has gone down, you closed your teary eyes and rested your head against Leafeons body.

The two of you stayed like that for a while until it was time for Adaman to return. "Y/N my dear, are you alright? Leafeon ran off and-" he got cut off as he saw the two of you holding each other on a bench, he immediently knew what happened. he made his way over to you, "Oh dear, Y/N are you alright?" You slowly lifted your head and opened your tired eyes to face him, "Im okay.. im just... tired..." you said quietly. Being tired after these things happy was normal for you, youre body was tired, your head hurt, and whenever you finish crying you always get possessed by sleepiness. He engulfed the two of you in a tight, yet warm embrace. "I know I know, c'mon lets go" he kneeled down and showed you his back, waiting to you to get on his back so he could carrie you back home.

You unwrapped your arms from Leafeon and it jumped up from your legs and onto the ground. It was proud of itself, proud that it saved you. You stood up and placed yourself onto his back, gently wrapping your arms around his neck. He stood up and wrapped his hands around your legs to make sure you were secured. "Lets go home" he said as he began walking, Leafeon let out a happy cry as it followed the two of you home.

aaaa, sorry this took a bit of time, but i do hope you like it!

[carrionhearted]

“homebound” You went to a whole different country for an expo not even a month ago.

Do you even know what you’re talking about

Do you understand how insane this is to say to someone? To go up to a dynamically/ invisibly disabled person and go “well you went to a con once so you’re not really that sick”.

If you are talking about the expo I attended which was 1) in my country, 2) in my province, and 3) near my city… you have no clue how that went. I’ve said it before, I don’t like talking about my health because it is a sore subject and is not fun to recount. When I attended that expo, I went with friends. You can ask any of them about this. I spent half of it sitting on the con floor alone while everyone else perused the booths, because if I tried to get up and go with them, I’d be prone to passing out and destroying merchandise. I struggled through the whole event, and was barely mentally present because the pain/ discomfort was too overwhelming to enjoy what should’ve been a fun experience. The chest pains and tachycardia and the inability to so much as breathe is fucking unbearable, I got home that night and the toll it all took on my body was so bad that my mother thought we should go to the ER. I stayed home and cried because I’d been looking forward to the expo for so long, and I barely skimmed through it before my body started failing on me and I had to leave my friends and sit down. Our group had another stop planned in the area, but I couldn’t walk over to the next place, and we ended up having to just go straight home. Do you know how shameful that feels? To be the reason your friends can’t do fun things? Because you cant walk around a flat convention floor without your heart rate spiking into the 150+ and your body tapping out on you? Because you cant go a DAY without random body pains that make movement hell?

You have no clue. You do not know me.

You are disturbingly ignorant. Get a fucking grip. You cannot say things like this to real people who you do not know, I am a human with feelings. This is beyond triggering, it is disgusting. How is this even a topic of conversation, you have strayed *so far* from your original advocacy campaign that you’re now shooting strays at an uninvolved party and harassing them with revolting ableist bullshit for… entertainment? I hope? If you think this behaviour is genuinely okay, you need help.

Jfc. I can barely get up to make art anymore. I want to so badly, but I can’t. I’ve lost the ability to go on actual hikes, I’m not allowed to anymore, because it is medically dangerous to be out there on my own. Being in the forest is the one thing I live to do, and I’m trapped inside withering alone. Imagine not being able to engage with your special interests because your body just can’t do it anymore. Imagine hearing what you just said in that position. Exercise some human empathy. I do not need this. I deserve to have a fucking life. I deserve to participate in society even if I’m disabled. You need to get off of the internet and go feel shame.

[rpfisfine]

do you hate miles?🤨

i was wondering when someone would send me an ask like this yeah i dont like him to be honest. i know ppl on here have largely moved on from the fateful 2016 interview and it has been discussed to death and yeah he immediately said he was joking etc etc but i dont think its weird to think you shouldnt have to feel pressured to like completely forgive and forget and absolve the sins of a male musician saying something that made a female reporter feel unsafe or objectified or 'caught in an increasingly distressing situation' or act like its some sort of unheard of and unimaginable offense that has never happened before in the history of music interviews and one someone’s favorite musician who can do no wrong in their eyes could definitely never get caught up in (esp given how gross in general the music industry is towards women). OR even go so far to say the reporter did it all for attention i cant believe this is even a discussion that has ever been had in any form ever like genuinely nothing makes me angrier than ppl who literally turn into blatant sexists whenever their favorite white guy's reputation is even mildly put at risk ive literally seen one person on here say the whole interview was made up and exaggerated and that she just wanted to 'join the me too movement' which is like Okay man i think you might just not have any respect for women in real life maybe. even watered down and not as extreme its a take thats more prevalent on am tumblr than i thought or previously imagined and i hate how bad it makes the fandom look like i trust that everyone on here is a reasonably intelligent and empathetic human being who has at least a basic tumblr education on the fact that victim blaming is bad so we dont rly need to turn around and immediately go 'she just misunderstood what he was saying' or 'she just didnt get his sense of humor' like Alright

i hope im articulating all this reasonably well like i think its literally fine that ppl have accepted his apology and moved on and are able to enjoy him as an artist and/or as a person too thats awesome and im happy for the ppl that i follow that have this kind of relationship with him. even if it wasnt for the interview thing he stil wouldnt be for me i used to be a pretty big fan of his music when i was younger but nowadays since ive found different music i dont rly pay any attention to him. im glad he was able to spark alex creatively but thats as far as my enjoyment goes of him to be yonest

also ive just realized now that all this makes me look kind of contrived given the fact that ive written milex before and i dont rly have like an impenetrable explanation i literally started writing for jamex around the time the car album came out bc i found out all my fav jamex fics had gotten deleted by their author so i wanted to fill the void and then one day i was like wait am i good enough yet to write a functional milex fic (plus i was hoping to get more ppl to notice my writing and milex offers a pretty easy way to do that) so then i wrote 2 and i was like ok i am cool. i dont intend to write another fic for them

hope this makes sense i probably forgor to say like 10 other things i wanted to say but thats okay

[bebx]

hi im so sorry but i need to get this off my chest and i cant talk to my friends about it because its so embarrassing and ive talked about it PLENTY

but anyway long story short i was dating someone, we have a weird history dating wise & have been best friends for 3+ years before that all started. literally three weeks ago we decided to be exclusive, on friday i found out that the day before, he kissed another girl IN PUBLIC. i know that girl, they've hooked up before (when i was also hooking up with him but it wasn't anything really and i didn't actually know for sure if they were hooking up (they were)). so we called it quits.

i still spent the weekend bc i'm weak and all i want is him. he said he never felt a connection like this with anyone, he said he loved me and he said he was sorry a hundred times..... he said it would take a long time before he'd feel 'normal' about me. we were both emotional when i left, and since then i havent really stopped crying lol

AND NOW. i dont know if im just driving myself crazy but i feel like he's (still) (again?) talking to that one girl and it would make sense because he basically cheated on me not even a week ago so why wouldnt he do this now??? but. it feels too cruel. but maybe thats just who he is.

god i hate this so much he drives me completely mad im stalking his every move and every time i see something that even slightly hints at my suspicions i get so ill and it makes me wanna kms. i just wanna feel normal i hate that he did this to me i miss him so bad. i know we literally shouldn't ever get back together again because this is just a fraction of the shit thats happened in the past 10 months, BUT I ONLY WANT HIM. and i feel like we're soulmates. BYEEEEE this is so humiliating. im so tired i just want it to end

hugging you so tight right now, anon!!! 🩷🩷🩷 so sorry you have to go through something like this. I can’t say I know exactly how you feel, because each person experiences this type of pain differently, but I do know it just super sucks when the person who hurts us and the person we want to hate turns out to be the one we love the most. sometimes our hearts can be stubborn just like that (it all would’ve been so easy if we could convince ourselves to stop caring and to being able to fully hate them and moving on, but it’s never that easy, sadly). I can’t tell you what to do or how to react to the pain you feel, but know that your pain is valid and how you feel / how you react / how you cope with that pain, that’s valid too. and you are not weak for being hurt when someone wronged you, especially when it’s someone you trusted. I know this is cliche and is so much easier said than done, but please also be kind to yourself, above anything else. that boy and the girl he cheated on you with, they don’t deserve you. they lost you, not the other way around. think of this as an opportunity for you to open yourself to someone else who truly loves and values you, whether it be romantically or platonically. I know right now you just want him, but if the wrong person can make you love him this bad, imagine how much happier you’ll be when you finally find the right one who can make you love them the same way you loved him, if not more, the only difference is that they won’t break your heart. and you deserve to be happy. that someone is out there, and I truly believe you both will find each other when the time is right. but for now, try loving and being gentle to yourself even if it’s hard (I know it can be hard, but at least give it a try), the best revenge is to prove to them that you don’t need them to be happy and that you can heal from this and thrive without them in your life. doesn’t matter how long it takes, but you will get there one day, and you will look back and be so damn proud of yourself for how far you’ve come. because hey, look at you, you are still here, and for that, I am so damn proud of you!!

it’s okay to cry, it’s okay to be completely broken, because the thing about crying and being broken is that it’s not permanent, even if it feels like it right now.

and by the way, the ones who should feel humiliated are him and that girl, not you. screw it if they deserve each other. YOU deserve so much better than that anyway.

[rattlingheart]

i finally decided to sit down and write out how i've been feeling.

Am I selfish? Am I jealous? Am I a bad person to the people I care about? Are they bad to me? I don’t understand why it’s so wrong of me to have wants. All i want is someone for myself. I want someone who would do anything for me at any time. I want to be cared for, i want to be loved and i want to be wanted and needed. Why is that so bad? I want my own person. Everyone else has their own so why cant i have one too? Every time i try to explain it i end up looking like the bad guy. Maybe my actions arent great and maybe i feel things too strong but none of that would matter if i had someone who understood. Nobody ive ever talked to knows what im going through because everyone at one point or another has had their person. They dont know what its like to think you have someone and then lose them to someone else, over and over and over again. At this point it just feels hopeless and im starting to feel like an idiot for ever thinking it could happen. I know it sounds conceited to think im the only person to ever feel this way but thats just how it feels. I want to be wanted so bad it hurts. Every day i spend alone makes me feel worse and worse. I dont know how much i can take. I want someone i can call and theyll answer right away, happy to hear me and ill be happy to hear them. I want to be able to have hours of conversation while also being comfortable with hours of silence. I want someone to think of me in a romantic way. To want to take me on dates and bring me flowers and show me how much they love me. I want to be so yearned for that it makes their stomach hurt. I want someone to be sad when they cant see me and angry when i talk to someone else. I want someone to put my picture in their wallet, or put a photo of us on their lockscreen. To be the first thing on someones mind when they wake up and the last thing before they fall asleep. In my eighteen years of life ive never come close. People say everyone has their time and everyone has their person, and i want to believe that so bad. I wish i could trick myself into being okay by myself and to just accept that my time wil come and that someone will love me but i just cant. Do you know how pathetic that feels? To know you have the potential to love and be loved but to never feel it? To just be fooled over and over to the point of not knowing what it feels like to have a crush anymore, not knowing if they actually want to get to know me or if they just need enough of my interests to get into my bed. I would love for someone to want to know me.

I want someone to know everything about me oh my god. I want to tell them everything about me and they tell me everything about them. I want to know someones deepest secrets and for them to know mine. I want to not be judged for the way i act, think, and feel. I promise i wont judge you if you dont judge me. I just cant understand why this is too much to ask. I want someone to meet my parents and my friends. I want to be a part of someone else's family and theyre a part of mine. I want to be thought of when holidays come around, and for them to know my birthday. I want them to ask if im coming over for dinner or if youre coming to mine. I want to be seen as a pair, if one of us is there then so is the other. It doesnt have to last forever, im not asking for a marriage partner, just a taste. I just want to dip my toes into the pool of love, i dont have to swim in it. Eventually i want to meet someone that just pulls me in with them and drowns me. I want to be smothered with love until it makes me sick. It would feel so much better than being alone. I cant even imagine how it would feel to be introduced as a girlfriend. For someone to show their family and friends my picture and to be excited about it. I hate begging for things but please. Its all ive ever wanted and yet its making me into a monster. I dont feel like myself anymore, i feel like a shell. It feels like my heart is just rattling around in my body making noise for someone to hear her. The butterfly in my stomach is dying, she hasn't fluttered in so long. I want her to be happy again, for me to just think of someone and she does somersaults around my stomach. I want to be nervous to go on a first date, maybe even a second or a third. I want to have a kiss at the end of the date like how it happens in the movies. I want someone to bring me home and want to see me again. I want to be a girlfriend, i cant wait until the day someone asks me. I think ill die right there in that moment. I want to say i love you. I want someone to say they love me every time they see me, every time they leave my presence and every time they enter it. I want people to know that im loved, and to know that i love the person loving me. I want to love someone so hard that just the thought of not having them in my life makes me sick. I want it to make me cry and i want them to comfort me and say it will never happen. I want them to lie to me. So that when the day eventually comes and they tell me they no longer love me I can have faith that ill find someone else to love me. I want to have a breakup that hurts me so bad i cant leave my bed and i stop talking to people for weeks. I want to lay in my bed and rot away just reminiscing over the way they loved me for so long. I want to know the feeling of having my heart ripped out of my chest and taken from me. I want to know the feeling of growing a new heart for someone else. And for that person to nurse me back to health, back to my original self. I know its strange to want heart break but as someone whos never experienced it, i want to know what its like. I want to experience every aspect of a relationship. I want to fight and argue. I want to apologize and make amends because we both know it isnt worth it to be mad at each other. I want someone to tell me that theyre sorry, and that theyll never yell at me again. I want someone to run their fingers through my hair as i lay my head in their lap. I want someone to hold me, hold my hand, hold my body, hold my heart. I want to put my legs on someones lap and for them to rub my legs just to know theyre there. I want to have someone to grab in a crowded room, to hold my hand so i dont get lost.

I want someone on the same level as me and i pray they never leave me behind. I just want to be loved and cared for the same as everyone else in my life. I want to feel like an equal to the people around me and not like an alien. Ive spent years building myself up for other people to notice me. Ive been noticed, but no one has cared enough to stay. It makes me feel so awful. Ive learned to keep things to myself, to not overshare. I try to go after what i want but it always ends badly, i always end up looking desperate. People use desperate in a bad way but i cant help but think, is that not what i am? I am desperate. I am so unbelievably desperate for someone to want me. I cant sit with my own thoughts or it starts to make me physically and mentally ill. I need someone to share them with. I need someone to talk to. I need somebody to be there for me. I need my own person. Someone i dont have to share and someone who will always be there when i need them. Someone who will know i need them before i even realize it. I think if i had someone to pour my thoughts onto and pour all of the love inside of me, id be doing a lot better. Im just scared that what if i find my person but they dont want me in my current state? What if im too much to handle and too much to take care of. I guess theyre not my person then. When i finally do find my person, someone just for me, they will love me for who i am, what i am, and they will see the good in me. Is that too much to ask?

[sunarintoes]

Pretty Setter Squad Boyfriend Headcanons

part one can be found here II wc: 2.4k II includes: kageyama, suga, kenma, akaashi, semi and oikawa II atsumu and shirabu 

rewriting because i cringe at the old hcs 😭

✗ Kagggggsss

✗ The emotionally constipated blueberry <3 oh yeahh 😎

✗ Okay well first off he can barely process his emotions (*cough* evidently *cough*)

✗ When you two first started going out he was quite shy and unsure of what to do so you may have had to guide him a bit, but if youre equally shy then it just would have taken longer to get to where you are now; oh and if that was the case it probably took some random burst of energy/confidence from either one of you to make the first move. 

✗ He will buy you milk but uf you hate it (like me 🤢) he will buy you another drink - like juice :D

✗ I dont think he will be the most affectionate, it’s not his love language - and neither are words haHAH. His love language is most likely quality time and gift giving.

✗ He does like to cuddle though 😳

✗ In fact he really likes to :D his favourite is when youre sitting in his lap while he watches a volleyball game (at home - he hates pda). 

✗ This brings us to our next, short point. Kageyama absolutely despises pda, he just thinks its something meant for closed doors and he does not believe that he has to display his relationship for the whole world to ogle at. The most he will do is light hand holding - mostly just linking your pinkies though.

✗ When it comes to height he does not care if you're smaller or taller than him ← but bb, please don't tease him about his height if he’s shorter because he will blow a fuse.

✗ He alternates between small spoon and big spoon, kinda depending on his mood. 

✗ BOY O BOY does he get jealous. Uh please reign in your setter >:( 

✗ Its mostly due to the fact that he’s insecure about himself - he thinks you will leave him like everyone else (in middle school - yes, he is still traumatised from it.)

✗ When he does get jealous he might be snappy to the other person and glare at them or be snappy at you and glare at you. When this happens please give him space because he needs it to clear his head. When he feels better he will come up to you and hug you into his chest so that he can’t see your face and you cant see his, then he will mumble an apology.

✗ Ever since you two began to date he has practiced apologising and getting better at apologising, this is because his inability to admit to his own mistakes was a sour patch in your relationship that almost ended it but he really did not want to lose you so he sucked up his pride and worked on what he had to; of course you also worked in what you had to. God I love character development 😩

✗ Dates are mostly at home dates or dates revolving around volleyball. If you're not into volleyball, Kageyama would not date you, it's something he is so passionate about and loves with every breath he takes (like you) and he refuses to compromise one love for the other. 

✗ ooooh he likes arcade dates a well! He thrives in a competitive environment. If you're not competitive and don't want to compete against him then he’ll compete for you - against the machines lol. Of course you play as well! But i doubt youre as competitive as this blueberry, and if you are - well i guess at the end of the day youll both be stacked in tokens 🤠

✗ Sugawara my beloved <33

✗ He. Is. So. Affectionate! 

✗ Mans loves skin on skin contact ykwim?

✗ He is down for pda and does not care what others think - only what you think <3. 

✗ I mean he might make out with you in public if you ask nicely 

✗ Dates are very fun with him, he’ll take you to cafes, to amusement parks, to carnivals, to movies and all the like. He’s a cliche lover and he’s proud of it.

✗ Your first kiss happened on New Years Eve/Day. The two of you sat on the roof of his house and watched as the fireworks lit up the starry sky of Miyagi and chanted the count down together. The second ‘one’ left your lips he grabbed your face (softly!!) and pulled you in to crash his lips against yours. 

✗ Suga loves to cuddle, preferably face to face because he just thinks you're the most beautiful person in the world. 

✗ He is not the most jealous person, he definitely does get jealous but never of strangers. It's more when his close friends or your close friends get a bit too comfortable if that makes sense? He normally plays it off with humour and messes around because he acknowledges that he is insecure and that it is most likely him thinking of the worst case scenario; however if he really does start to worry and get jealous then he will sit you down and talk about it with you. To him, communication is key. 

✗ Ngl Kenma is definitely in my top 3 favourites. 

✗ I may or may not be a Kenma kinnie 😳🙈

✗ i love my non-toxic gamer boy <33 anywho: no matter what ANYONE says, kenma is definitely affectionate. In fact I'd say he’s one of the most affectionate boyfriends. As we all know, he is shy and introverted but he likes to hang around and spend time with people he likes. He also talks a lot to them. So I hc that he’s a bit of a chatterbox with you and it makes him really happy when you let him talk about a game or a theory he has. He’s a great listener so you can count on him to pay attention to what you say.

✗ if you didn't already have one, he bought you a switch. He loves video game dates especially when he can't see you in person (*cough* lockdown *cough*) 

✗ he loves when you sit on his lap when he plays video games. I know everyone talks about sitting on their partner’s lap as some sexual thing and yeah that can happen but most of the time he’s really soft with you and just enjoys being close to you. Loves when you cuddle into him while he plays so that he can place his head on yours or your shoulder. 

✗ i think he is a bit shy when it comes to kisses but definitely warms up after a while. He absolutely refuses to sleep if he doesnt get your goodnight kisses. He loves to kiss you on your nose and your cheeks the most. He loves when you kiss him on the forehead and the nose <3

✗ kenma is not one for pda, it's just not his vibe. He prefers intimacy and privacy; his relationship is not a movie for the world to watch and gawk at. Especially timeskip!kenma. Though that does not mean he wont ever show you skinship in public, occasionally he will softly hold your hand and maybe press a light kiss to your cheek. 

✗ in terms of jealousy, he is moderate. Kenma, as we all know, has incredible people reading skills, so he understands the situation pretty clearly and knows when you’re uncomfortable/what you think of the situation. Most of the time you can deal with the unwanted attention and he doesnt get jealous, but he does get insecure. He shows this by going quiet and looking away when you look at him, you can cure this by giving him hugs when you get home. 

✗ Akaashi my beloved <3 he’s so pretty i can't even-

✗ ugh! Just imagine him in a dark/light academia aesthetic. 

✗ perfection. 

✗ akaashi is the sweetest most attentive boyfriend, he loves you to pieces and never fails to let you know. He tells you he loves you every morning and every night. He probably makes meals for you and leaves notes in that have a sweet comment like “i love you, you're the best <3” 

✗ he love back hugging you BUT also receiving back hugs 🥺✨

✗ akaashi is a booknerd and an introvert. Please cuddle up to him and let him read his book to you. 

✗ there are only 2 things that can restore his social battery: sleeping and you.

✗ which means he wants cuddles when he’s tired 😊

✗ he is not jealous. He just doesn't get jealous, maybe annoyed if the third party is being a bit too pushy and you're clearly uncomfortable, but he just never feels jealous. No matter how hard you may try to make him jealous (plz dont cause that's kinda toxic imo) he just won't feel that way.

✗ definitely the ‘mom/dad’ as he carries sinister, pads, bandaids → a whole first aid kit basically, everywhere. Bb must be prepared. 

✗ dates are so sweet with him, cute niche cafes and dimly lit libraries. Maybe the occasional abandoned building. He loves spending time with you, so really he's happiest whenever he’s with you; having coffee at McDonalds or a niche cafe won't change anything. 

✗ he’s hard to pinpoint for pda. I feel like he’s indifferent about it. He probably prefers to keep it indoors or to just small and sweet gestures (no making out in public sorry-). It definitely comes down to your preferences, if you don't like it then he won't and vice versa.

✗ semi semi semi semi semi semi

✗ omg mr musician 

✗ he definitely plays guitar - lead guitar and bass guitar. 

✗ skilled fingies for sure 😗

✗ boy why are musicians so hot???? 😫😫😫💦💦

✗ he writes songs about you. Semsem has a bit of trouble saying exactly how he feels, so he writes it and sings it to you with a small little smile and eyes full of love. 

✗ off topic but Semu has the best music taste in haikyuu

✗ he loves hugs so much <33 please hug and cuddle with him 24/7

✗ very affectionate, he’s always touching you someway. Loves kissing your forehead. 

✗ he is jealous. Yeah definitely. He writes songs about being jealous 🗿 not that you mind of course ‘cause they're bangers. I think he might get snappy when he’s jealous, not directly at you but at the other person. He definitely gets a bit bitchy. Sometimes he acts that way to you so you've just gotta slap some sense into him. Say something like “what's your problem?” or “tell me what your problem is so i can help fix it.” ← that's probably the best thing to say. 

✗ afterwards he’ll just snuggle with you until he feels better. 

✗ he asks for your opinion about his songs all the time, please be honest (but also praise them if you like them lol)

✗ he takes you to niche spots he finds, like hidden concerts and stuff. Loves when you come to his gigs <3 oh and when you scream for him (in more ways than one). 

✗ dates are cute and fun. Mostly walking around together → carnivals, main street, farmers market. Those kind of things. 

✗ when it comes to pda he loves it. Loves being able to show the world who his s/o is. If you don't like it then he will tone it down and only do what you’re comfortable with. If you're also into pda then he will happily make out with you anywhere (you're one of THOSE couples 🤢 /j) 

✗ all round best boyfie <3

✗ oikawa ��� have i told y'all how much i love him? Oikawa is the best written character, no cap, he is so complex and real it's crazy. It's so fun to write about him because you can pick him apart, you know his flaws, his weaknesses, his nightmares but also his strengths and dreams. Anywho i'll stop ranting now but i just love writing for such a perfectly imperfect character-

✗ he puts up a cocky exterior but thats all false. He's as scared as you are, he's scared that you'll leave him like his exes because of how obsessed and focused he is on volleyball. However he is a changed man, he's learned to balance his priorities. If you ever feel like you're being sidelined please communicate with him. 

✗ he values communication above all else and wants nothing more in a partner than for them to also value communication.

✗ back to the point → if you feel insecure of your relationship and that volleyball is taking too much of his attention let him know. He will change that. To an extent → he may have an important game coming up which is why he is focusing more, but he will always find time for you. 

✗ he never forgets to text you good morning and good night. He also sends you wholesome memes and makes sure you're taking care of yourself - they're like reminders for him to also take care of himself. 

✗ he is both jealous and insecure. Everyone who gets too close to you or spends a lot of time with you, he is jealous of. Jealous because he wishes he could spend more time with you but he knows he can't - not without jeopardising his volleyball career. He's also insecure, because he knows you could just leave him for a more fulfilling, more attentive, more balanced relationship. You know that too, I mean, of course you could leave him but no one would be as good as him. No one could match up to your beautifully flawed boyfriend.

✗ he is affectionate, very, very affectionate. He loves you so much. And because he spends so much time on volleyball, anytime with you he's touching you - memorizing every dint, every curve, everything about you so that he won't ever forget. 

✗ Oikawa has trouble sleeping unless he's with you, he wants to sling to you in his sleep and be grounded and remember that he is loved and cherished and appreciated y'know?

✗ pda is not an issue for him. He doesn't care what anyone else says or thinks :P in this relationship the only opinions that matter are his and your’s. Tell him you're uncomfortable with something and he won't do it, and vice versa. But otherwise, like Semi, he won't mind having a good makeout session with you in the middle of the street ;)

[saturnsstufff]

okay as a chubby girl myself I struggle with how I see myself and this idea makes my heart KSHDHSJS

okay so imagine IMAGINE

Request maybe 🤔🤔🤔

Okay,, you’re standing in the mirror yk in your mirror at technos house/cottage in your underwear and stuff, grabbing at the chub and stuff looking upset and not feeling good about yourself, and techno walking into the room and seeing this. yk him being upset that you feel that way Bc he thinks youre just so pretty 🥺.

IT COULD EITHER GO INTO A SMUT( 😏 where he SHOWS you how much he loves you and how pretty he thinks you are in the mirror) OR FLUFF WITH SOFT WORDS AND CUDDLES or both idk

*slams hand on desk* IVE BEEN WAITIN FOR THIS

I went with both, because I like options. I also based this off a little personal feelings so I hope it works!

My Goddess- Technoblade

Warnings: self conscious reader, swearing, NSFW

   The mirror. Your best, but worst nightmare imaginable. Some days you could look into it and see beauty within your curves. Spend endless minutes hyping yourself up. 'Man I look good' 'I am the fucking shit' 'damn look at that' all little things you tell yourself in pride. Because in those moments, you feel powerful. In those moments you feel like you own the world, that others are just lucky to breathe within your presence.

   However, there are bad days. There are days when looking into the mirror brings shame. Days when all you can do is grab at your stomach, and ponder of what you could have done, or what you will do. Its pressed that everyone is perfect in our own imaginable ways. Yet when you look at others, you cant help but be envious. Others can get away with wearing tight clothing, baggy clothing, any type of clothing. Yet when you try it on all you see is a box, if you wear tight clothing, every roll and muffin top pops out. It can be embarrassing.

   Techno never saw your curves as embarrassing however. He loved them. He loved the plush, soft skin of your tummy or your thighs. Your hips? don't even ask what he thought on hips, as long as they were yours. They were perfect.

   With that said, when he saw you saddened about your form he was slightly hurt. You thought he was beautiful, a hybrid of a monster. But yet you couldn't find the beauty within your rolls? Your plump little form? The very thing that made up you? If he ever found out who planted these seeds of lies in your mind, he would have words.

   If you felt confident enough to take the world by the horns, he let you. He would build you up with sweet words of encouragement. 'Well don't you look amazing...' 'you are looking beautiful as ever'. They were small phrases but they meant a lot to you.

   Techno isn't verbal with his love, or compliments really. He chooses to show it, words are just that. Words. Actions are done, are shown. They are physically put into motion. That's why he prefers it. But he also understands sometimes words are needed. They are needed to ease your nerves and doubtful mind.

   when he catches you glaring at your plump form in the mirror, he cant help but quickly move to your side. Kneeling and kissing up your body. Your arms, your thighs, everything. In the beginning he would let you look away. The idea of someone liking your body type left you uncertain, many times you would ponder if his endless kisses were done as a joke. But each and every time he would reassure you that it was real. That him loving you, loving your body. It wasn't in pity, it was in genuine love.

   Tonight was one of those bad nights. With Techno in the bath, you were left to change for bed. Wait for him to come out, and then cuddle the night away until the sun kissed the horizon.

   But well you changed your eyes fell to the mirror. Your eyes casually roamed your body. You were used to looking at it so nothing stood out of course. But as you shifted, you caught a few stretch marks within the candle light. They looked like streaks of lightning that were dragged across your skin. With a quick glance away, you pulled something over your form. Wanting to cover your body and deal with that mental baggage later.

   Of course the Hybrid that stood tall within the door frame held other ideas about that moment. The one thing that always put you at ease was Techno's size. Before you were in a relationship with him, you feared you wouldn't be able to wear your lovers clothing. Being a bit plumper meant "one size fit all" did not fit all. But luckily, with your roughly 6ish/7ish foot Piglin Hybrid of a lover, all of his clothing was a bit baggy on you. Technoblade was a very Built man, this came from his never ending training and his natural born strength of course. But even with him being built and big, the first time he asked you to sit on his lap had you hesitant. What if he found you too heavy? The idea of him asking you to move off would leave you completely mentally ruined. Of course when you finally sat he didn't utter any words besides praises. His hands running gently over your thighs, with a tight grasp he kept you close. When Techno saw you ease into his lap more often, he took pride in knowing you were comfortable enough to do it on a daily basis. That was when he upped the bar again. The day he asked you to sit on his face was the day you had a heart attack. You were so paranoid you would crush him. Of course he was all bemused smirks well you tried to think of excuses. Yet this man was able to ease your nerves and reassure you until you were comfortable once again. You would never forget how giddy he was to be between your thighs. That was the day he found his favorite spot.

   Before you could ease some bottoms over your underwear, this man had his arms around you. Pushing against your hands. His nose was nuzzled into your neck muttering gently "Please, leave them off for now..." with a brow raised you complied. You let the shorts drop to the floor, assuming you would be coming for them in a brief moment. You could smell the lingering sent from his shampoo. The fresh smell giving you great comfort.

   Techno moved you back to face the mirror, his head moving briefly so he could see you face yourself. With a light stubble scratching against your neck you felt the goosebumps rise. Your eyes met his ruby ones within the mirror. "Do you know, how beautiful you are?..." he asked rhetorically. Dragging out the words that he felt were important. You wanted to say no, but knew he wouldn't want that answer.

   "I think I'm alright..." you said softly. He hummed and pressed a loving kiss to your neck. His hands slowly fell down to the buttons of the shirt you were wearing. Skillfully he undid them without thought. When you had pulled a shirt on you didn't think much, but now saw that it was his you wore. Of course he didn't mind, he never minded.

   With the buttons undone he opened the shirt to expose your naked form. Every curve and roll on sweet display for him "You are beyond 'alright'... alright is basic. You know my goddess is beyond mortal definitions..." you gave a gentle smile at his charm, glancing away from his eyes. He didn't allow this tonight however. Instead he took your jaw and gently redirected it to the mirror. Meeting his gaze again.

   "My love... My goddess, you know your body rivals the gods, yes?..." you slightly shrugged, unsure if this was true. With another loving kiss he continued. "Persephone had rolls... She was just as plump as you my love..." you fallowed his eyes gently. Him comparing you to the beautiful goddess left you feeling better. If someone so divine could have rolls why couldn't you?

   He didn't stop there however. "If you cant see your beauty. Let me show you how beautiful you are..." his tone was pleading. Like a animal begging for spare scraps. You watched his eyes, his finger and thumb having control over your chin. You thought on his words and gave a brief nod to him. Trusting him and whatever he had planned.

   Instead of immediately kissing you all over, he pulled away. Firmly telling you to keep your eyes on the mirror. You felt a bit awkward standing there, your legs shifting closer underneath you. He soon came back however, his crown in hand. You could also see he had a simple gray towel around his waist, showing he was fresh from the bath.

   Your curiosity with the crown lingered, but you watched as he put it on your head. "You are a queen... My Queen... You will always be reminded of your everlasting beauty for as long as you are with me..." for not complementing a lot, tonight he was on a roll. Your eyes ran over the crown. The delicate and bright stones contrasting the shimmering gold well against your skin.

   He walked around to the front of you, leaning down to meet your lips in a loving kiss. His hand found a firm places on your hip, and on the plush skin of your ass cheek. With a gentle, but firm grasp he moved and rolled the skin beneath his hand. Loving how soft you were. With his hands working soft whimpers and moans out of you, his mouth devoured them. Eating every noise you made, cherishing them deep within his heart.

   Leaving your lips swollen he moved down. Kissing your jaw and neck. Planning to leave you a work of art. A show of how much he loves you.

   After your neck it was your chest. Soft plump breasts fitting ever so sweetly within his hands. With firm grasps he had you flushed red whimpering. Your eyes half lidded with the sweet lingering pleasure. Yet you still watched yourself and him, knowing to not disobey him.

   With soft kisses placed to the tops of your breasts and nipples he moved to your stomach. This is where you craved to look away. Wishing to hide yourself in his neck.

   "T..T-Techno..." he hummed acknowledging your words. But he still pressed light kisses down to the hem of your underwear.

  “Keep your eyes on the mirror." He said, pulling them down. Helping you step out of the discarded clothing. You couldn't see his face. Only his backside was facing the mirror, and even then his long wet hair hid most of his toned back.

   His fingers ran through your slit briefly. His rings offered a major temperature difference between your heat and the cold metal. With a little squirm his hands moved and held you in place. Desiring to keep you in place before he moved his head in and started to devour you. Eating you out like it was his last meal on earth.

   With a ever so sinful cry, you gripped at his hair. Begging for your knee's to not give out. With one hand on his head, the other one flew to the crown on your head. Trying to keep it on well you easily hunched over from the overwhelming pleasure. Techno never failed to leave you speechless- or should we say, he never left you quiet. Even if you could see yourself, you didn't think you would be able to focus much. Your eyes were tightly shut well your mouth ran between being in a 'O' and being locked shut.

   He did pull back from your folds to speak. Earning a cry from you. You were getting close and him pulling away was painful. "You can cum. But you have to keep your eyes open" you nodded profusely. Agreeing to anything if it meant feeling his lips back on you. He lingering a moment. Making sure your eyes opened before he leaned back. Taking his time to show your clit attention before going back to his main course.

   With your eyes looking back at you. You were unsure if you were ashamed with how blissed out you looked or happy. The whole scene in itself was erotic. You were incredibly small compared to the giant between your legs. His only drive to please you completely. Your eyes never left the mirror as he ate you out to your climax. Your hips stuttering and bucking, but proving no use to his iron grip. When you came he waisted no time at cleaning it up. He had no shame, that your cum was running down his chin. He was happy when you were pleased. And he knows you are definitely pleased after that climax.

   But he wasn't finished. With your legs weakening he helped you down onto his lap. He let you collect yourself against his chest for a few moments his hand ran over your back.

   "Doin' ok there Princess?..." you nodded slowly. Your chest rising and falling fast well you try and calm yourself. "Think you can do one more?" You nodded again well he pressed a kiss to your forehead, acknowledging your response. Adjusting his crown on your head, he moved so the mirror was beside you two. Showing both of your bodies, with the towel acting as a thin barrier.

   When you both were situated he did remove the towel. With a strong arm he lifted you up and positioned his hardened cock at your entrance, wasting no spare moment to fill you up. Well you did try to hide within his neck, it proved no use. He made sure to turn your head to the mirror.

   With your eyes hitting the mirror you saw how his head was beside yours. Your cheek was pressed to his chest well his was pressed to your forehead. His eyes lingeried your body. Drowning in your blissed out form. He found you utterly perfect.

   Well your bodies were connected, it almost looked like art. With techno's sharp gaze and your blissed out reddened cheeks, the contrast was there but yet they went together in perfect harmony. With the roll of his hips he made sure to keep your eyes on the mirror. Wanting to drag out every cry and moan you could utter. He set his pace at a rhythmic thrust, wanting to not only pleasure you, but himself as well. Well you griped to his sides, he kept his hand on he back of your head gently. Wanting to keep your head facing the mirror. With sweet sinful praises he coached you to a second orgasm, his fallowing close behind. He kissed your head gently, keeping you close to him well he felt himself soften. when his eyes met yours in the mirror he smiled softly. 

“Look at how beautiful you are... Always so, so beautiful Princess...”

[wincore]

runway (m) | jung yoonoh

pairing: model!jaehyun x fashion designer!reader

words: 18.7k

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

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

warnings: sexual content, mentions of anxiety

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There’s some nods and sounds of affirmation. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

_jeongjaehyun:

My manager told me it was good publicity

But I could take it down for you

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You don’t make the same mistake twice.

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

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

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

Do you love it? 

Of course you fucking do. 

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

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

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

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

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

You. You’re a big deal. 

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

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

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

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

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

D-1. Same feeling, new season.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“My job? What do you think, genius?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The buzzing reaches a peak before everything is drowned out.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Afterparties are not your thing. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You could have, too.

No way. You tell yourself that’s ridiculous. 

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

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

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

Afterparties are not your thing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Uh, hi,” he greets.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You freeze. 

“New York?” you manage to squeak.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What are you not telling me, Joohyun?”

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

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

“Yes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You were not one of them. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“(name)?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sarcastic. Very nice.”  

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s not what I—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“(name)! Come quick!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your shoulders droop. Amateur. New. Unprofessional.

“Oh.”

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

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

Secrets. 

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

And perfection is your dear old friend. 

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

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

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

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

“No,” you deny. “Just curious.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re just so easy to work up.”

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

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

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

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

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

Jaehyun raises an eyebrow.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sour.” 

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

“Is- Is something wrong?”

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

“You’re doing two different concepts today?”

“Three, actually.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Something sets into motion, subtle but sharp.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s me, Jaehyun.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

You trail off, trying to get yourself to breathe.

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But he still came all the way here.

“Aren’t you a little…overdressed?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You…have someplace to be then?”

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

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

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

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

Or is it him? 

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

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

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

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

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

“Literally zero times.”

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

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

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

“Dickhead,” you hiss.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jaehyun nods, something akin to agreement in his response. 

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

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

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

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

“Oh? How so?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your eyes flutter over his face once again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Your collar’s…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There’s something definitely wrong with you, love.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Afterparties are still not your thing. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“(name), thank you.” 

Success feels good. Gratitude feels even better.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You know I like you, right?”

You turn around. “What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hyung—”

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

“Hyung. I’m hanging up.” 

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

“That—”

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

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

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

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

Jaehyun pushes into you at a steady pace, your fingers digging into his back and over his shoulder blades only to draw out sounds more pleasing to your ears. You let someone else take charge for once, his praising whispers of ‘that’s my baby’ or ‘you just look so good’ far too teasing but he follows through, your body barely able to respond apart from shaking and shuddering till you reach your high. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And a little bit about me.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you want me saying something cheesy?”

“Absolutely not.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I certainly hope so.”

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

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

[calehenituseappreciation]

Tommy thinking Sam Nook and Sam are two different people would lead to such funny senarios.

Especially if you apply this logic to everyone.

what if mexican dream and quackity are the same people and that was just him making fun of dream and making tommy laugh and tommy genuinely thinks dream killed mexican dream and that hes a different person

and when ranboo pretended to be killed by clarencio

he just doesnt realise

he thinks girl dream is someone else too

tubbo genuinely has a bunch of personalities and so he thinks theyre all different people (and also he doesnt realise theyre the same people a lot)

sam, in his normal voice: tommy do you have the- tommy, crying: what happened to sam nook?

sam proceeds to live as sam nook around tommy because he once tried to tell tommy sam nook isnt real and he started sobbing and so sam cant

sapnap, approaching sam on the site: hey sam can you do this for me? sam: su- tommy, running up: SAAAAAAM!? sam, in the sam nook voice: hello tommy! sapnap: wtf??? tommy: this is sam nook! :D have you met him? sapnap: what? thats just s- sam: shakes his head, behind tommy where he cant see sapnap: uhhhhh sam: takes out sword sapnap: h-hi sam nook! tommy: :D

sam is not the only person this happened to. 

tommy: technoblade???? techno, sneaking into l'manberg: uhhh techno, in a highpitched voice: no this is Clarencio tommy: the llama? techno, in high pitched voice: no the pig tommy: hmmm techno: sweats tommy: smiles brightly ok!!!! techno, under his breath: that worked??? tommy: wanna hang out with me? techno, in high piteched voice: i really need to go tommy: buttttttt :(

technoblade proceeds to have to pretend to be clarencio the pig and hang out with tommy all afternoon

phil, coming to check on techno: techno? techno, in a frilly pink dress, in a high pitched voice: hi tommy: phil!!!! have you met clarencio??? but not the llama!!! clarencio the pig!!! phil, holding back a laugh: is that so?

(defenitly happened before he got exiled, i refuse to change my mind)

everytime techno is caught he says hes clarencio (the pig) and tommy vouches for him each time and no one is able to bring themselves to tell him that clarencio (the pig) doesnt exist

sam nook, :handshake: clarencio the pic, :handshake:  mexican dream, (not girl dream) not being able to tell tommy their not real bc hed cry

IMAGINE IF TOMMY WAS GIVEN THE JOB OF LIKE BEING THE BORDER PEOPLE WHILE HE WAS WILBURS VICE BEFORE THE ELECTION AND PEOPLE WOULD JUST FAKE IDENTIES AND TOMMY WOULD JUST BELIVE EVERYONE

quackity: i demand to be allowed to join l'manberg! wilbur: ur american quackity: i shpould still be allowed! wilbur: just say your not, thats what everyone does quackity: what wilbur: just make a fake identity?? quackity: youre... the president???? wilbur: yeah and?? quackity: shouldnt you not be be endorsing that??? wilbur: i made tommy the border person. you think i care? quackity: sksksks quackity: still bad tho

the only one tommy never believes is dream, no matter what, he can just tell when someone is dream, like ya know those police dogs? the only reason he didnt realise girl dream was because girl dream is girl dream he thought it was just a dream thing

TOMMY THINKS BAD AND MONOCHROME BAD ARE TWO DIFFERENT PEOPLE

monochrome bad: tommy tommy: whomst? bad: oh uh recolourfies tommy, screaming: WHAT THE FUCK

tommy doesnt have object permanence but for people

techno, while tommy is staying with him: leaves room tommy, crying: I had a big brother once, i dont remember him tho

phil leaves them and (while stabbing wilbur) tommy just doesnt realize its him until techno says "dad?"

quackity works at wendys and tommy goes there everyday but doesnt realise its quackity

tommy went there since the war ended

and at the time didnt realise tommy cant tell and so when he and tommy started a mafia and became friends he thought tommy knew who he was and tommy once suggested going to dennys and quackity is like 'oh my god' and tommy is like my friend works there!!! and then they go to the one quackity works at and quackity is like 'haha funny' and then tommy asks around and then turns to quackity sadly like "my friend isnt here today D:" and then quackity is like o h

tommy, towards sam, in sams house: sam!!!!!! sam, who was sleeping, in his normal voice: w-what? tommy: sam!!! :D sam: hey tommy yawns whyd you wake me up? tommy: sorry but i really needed to ask you a question!!! sam: did you want to ask me where sam nook is again? tommy: welll.. that too but!!! you should meet sam nook!!!! sam: what tommy: please please please sam: no go back what did you ask? tommy: you need to meet sam nook! i think you'd be friends!!! :D sam, internally: shit sam: uhhh i dont really think i should- tommy: pleaasee uses puppy eyes sam: sure sam, internally: why did i say yes????

sam then has to pretend to be sam and sam nook at the same time

tommy: you're gonna love sam nook sam!!!! sam: uhuh tommy: where is he? :( sam: uh maybe hes behind you tommy: turns around to look sam: runs to other side of tommy sam, in sam nook voice: hello tommy!!! tommy: sam nook! have you met sam??? hes right here!!! gestures to sam who has to run behind him again tommy: sam say hi!!! sam, panting, in normal voice: hi tommy: whyre you all out of breath and shit???

this,,, just continues for a while

quackity, watching this exchange, driunking juice: sucks to suck sam: you'd do the same quackity: no. mexican dream is dead lol tommy, only hearing the last part: cries i miss mexican dream quackity, feeling sad: uh- we can revive him maybe? tommy: wipes tears YEAH! sam, whispers to quackity: told you so quackity, hisses to sam : shut up

quackity then has to pretend to revive himself while running around also he has to steal another one of dreams masks

honestly in this au everyone would hear about what happened during exile and stab dream (while pretending to be other people because ig in this au tommy still thinks dream was once his friend and yeh)

tommy, after crying infront of sam nook and telling him what dream did to him: so.. sniffs do you have any more quests for me to do? sam nook: i have one more quest tommy, cheering up: what is it!! sam nook: for myself tommy, confused: what is it? sam nook, taking out a glock: homocide

insanebur: you want to know why no one listens to you tommy? tommy, pouting, on the verge of tears: What? insanebur, unable to finish, clutching his heart: your too cute

this is just au where tommy is baby huh

wilbur isnt mad schlatt exiled him- hes mad he exiled tommy

schlatt and dream are the only ones not affected by tommys baby vibes and thats their downfall

tommy just has to call everyone a nickname, once, and everyone is melted

niki and jack: tommy is the fault of all our probelms we should kill him puffy: he. bonk is bonk baby bonk niki and jack: look over at tommy tommy, with sam in the distance: cries to sam because he cant find sam nook niki and jack: okay... maybe we should be less... violent...

Sam rlly just went

sam: looks at tommyinnit sam: nothing bad will ever happen to this child ever again

huh?

I’ve named this au, au where hes baby ur honour

tommy: i had zero parents (who care) tommy, gestures to puffy and sam: NOW I HAVE TWOOOOOOO

insanebur: god i fucking hate everyone tommy: even me? insanebur: except you tommy

sam: I AM THE TOMMY GAURDIAN! GAURDIAN OF THE TOMMY! sam @ anyone who wants to hurt him: FUCK OFFF

tommy canoanically understands the animal crossing language

ranboo: i can speak enderman! tommy: well i can speak creeper

whenever tommy gets overwhelemed around sam he burys himself he asks sam to cover for him in creeper

okay thats enough of that

[scarletemeterio-thesecond]

r u open for sum douxie requests? Him Falling in love with king arthur's daughter💕who's innocent n kind but she isn't happy at camelot she wants to be independent n arthur's like NOPE so she runs away n meets douxie again centuries later n is now a total badass witch but she's sarcastic n mean cuz girl has been THROUGH IT😔 but slowly she warms up to him n falls in love with him all over again cuz with douxie she cant help but be soft💕😭 *u can ignore this ask if u want my English is bad😅*

i absolutely loved this request! i think i did things a bit differently but i'm a sucker for love and i couldn't help it lol. i loved writing this, thank you for requesting and i hope you like it!

•••

Back To You (Douxie x Fem!Reader)

Warnings: none i think

Genre: Fluff, some angst

Fandom: Tales of Arcadia, Wizards

Summary: See request

Word Count: 3379

Reader uses she/her pronouns!

•••

Being king Arthur’s daughter was already hard enough, but being a witch didn’t make things easier. (Y/N) loved magic, even if her father wasn’t a huge fan of it. She started taking an interest in it at a very young age, and her own aunt ended up being her teacher.

As (Y/N) got older, her magic grew stronger as well and even though she knew her father loved her, she could also see the way he looked at her sometimes; he looked at her like she was a stranger, a monster even.

Life in the palace was always a bit boring. The princess didn’t have many friends and most of the time would end up feeling lonely. But that all changed once Merlin decided to get a new apprentice.

They hit it off right away. (Y/N) was excited to have someone around her age close to her and the boy was happy to be surrounded by so many talented people.

But of course, he was a bit nervous about being so close to the princess at first, and he didn’t really understand why she was around so much until he saw her do magic. He was mesmerized and extremely surprised, to say the least.

‘’I didn’t know you could do that,’’ he said once the girl was done with her spell.

‘’What do you mean?’’ The girl asked.

‘’Well, you’re the princess and everyone in the kingdom knows that but it’s not known that you can do magic,’’ he explained.

‘’Oh,’’ she murmured, a bit sad but not surprised. ‘’Well, my father doesn’t really like magic so I guess he’s always been a bit disappointed at my love for it.’’

‘’Come on, why don’t we take a walk around the castle?’’ He offered, trying to cheer her up.

Their friendship grew stronger with every passing day, and it didn’t take long for the young boy to start developing feelings for the sweet princess. She was a really powerful witch but she still had her feet on the ground and remained kind as always; he loved that about her. He also loved her smile and the way she made him feel when they were together.

(Y/N) could tell that there was something going on with her friend; she noticed how nervous he got when she was around, the way he stuttered and blushed. She thought that it was very cute, and it didn’t take her long to realize why he’d been acting like that. But she was still afraid of being wrong, so even though she also had feelings for the boy, she remained silent.

They were oblivious about the way they felt about each other, but everyone else wasn’t. They pretty much acted like a couple already to the eyes of strangers, and also to the eyes of the king.

The relationship between Arthur and his daughter had never been worse. The more she practiced her magic, the more they grew apart. They’d barely talk to each other. (Y/N) hated this, she wanted to be close to her father, but she knew that it would be useless to try to work things out; her father disapproved of anything she did or said. She was supposed to learn how to be a proper princess and future queen, and soon it would be time for her to get married. So of course, her closeness to Merlin’s apprentice was alarming to Arthur, and he decided to confront her at dinner one night.

‘’So, tell me about this apprentice boy,’’ he said to her. He’d requested to have dinner alone with her, and they were seated face to face with each other.

‘’His name is Hisirdoux,’’ she mentioned. ‘’And is this what you wanted to talk about? My friend?’’

‘’Well, he’s not just your friend, right? Rumors travel fast inside the castle, my dear.’’

‘’We’re just friends,’’ she mumbled loud enough for the king to hear.

‘’You sound almost disappointed at those words,’’ he pointed out. He made a pause to drink some of his wine and then he looked at his daughter. ‘’I don’t like him.’’

‘’Here we go…,’’ she sighed and sank in her seat, not wanting to hear what her dad was about to say.

‘’He’s a wizard apprentice, (Y/N). Could you imagine what people would say if you even thought about being with him?’’

‘’What does it matter what people think? I can do magic, too, father. I know you’ve been hiding it from the rest of the kingdom, hiding me. I’m tired of being a secret, of not being myself.’’

‘’For the sake of the kingdom, you should get married to an appropriate suitor.’’

‘’For the sake of the kingdom? Why don’t you just admit that you can’t accept the fact that I’m a witch, father? Are you really that ashamed of me? Or are you actually afraid?’’ The princess said in a defying tone.

‘’Young lady-.’’

‘’No, you’re not gonna do this anymore,’’ she interrupted him. ‘’Why can’t you just accept me? It’s like you don’t even want me to be happy. Magic makes me happy, Douxie makes me happy and I’m tired of you trying to control me just because you can’t accept people who are different!’’ (Y/N) got up from her seat and started walking away.

‘’Where do you think you’re going?’’ Yelled her father.

She stopped walking for a second to turn around and look at him. ‘’Away from you,’’ she answered. What he didn’t know was that she really meant it; she would go as far away as possible.

…

Once she got to her room, she started packing some of her stuff, and when she was done she decided to write a letter. She knew she would go and say goodbye to Douxie, but she wanted him to know some things that she wouldn’t be able to say out loud.

A couple of minutes later, she was ready to go, to leave that place for good. It was late at night but she knew her friend would still be awake, so she decided to head over to his room. Just as she was about to walk out of her room for the last time, she heard some guards approaching. The princess cursed to herself but quickly remembered that there was another way for her to leave without being noticed, Douxie’s room and hers were connected by some secret tunnels they’d made with magic a while back, tunnels that extended throughout the entire castle.

Once she reached the boy’s door, she started knocking like crazy. Douxie opened the door almost immediately and even though he was happy to see her, he could tell that there was something wrong.

‘’(Y/N), what’s wrong?’’

‘’I’m afraid we don’t have time for that, Douxie. I don’t really know how to say this but I wanted to tell you that I’m leaving,’’ she said.

‘’What? Where?’’

‘’I don’t know, to be honest. Somewhere my father won’t find me, somewhere I can be free.’’

He was shocked, to say the least. Deep down, he knew she wasn’t happy with her life in the castle, but this news still surprised him. ‘’I’m going with you,’’ he said and started looking for some stuff to pack. She grabbed him by his shoulders and stopped him.

‘’No, Douxie. I can’t let you do that, okay? You still have a lot to learn from Merlin, I know you have potential and I just can’t take this opportunity for you.’’

‘’But I want to be with you, wherever you go.’’

‘’Trust me, there’s nothing I’d want more, but we can’t,’’ she paused to take a deep breath; she could already feel the tears forming in her eyes. ‘’I wrote you a letter, there are some things I’d like you to know.’’ She grabbed the piece of paper and handed it to him.

‘’(Y/N), please…’’ He begged, he didn’t even know what he was begging for, he just knew that the situation they were in was extremely unfair.

‘’I know my father will be here any minute with his guards, you have to pretend like you haven’t seen me, okay?’’ Her tears were already falling down her cheeks, and so were his. She grabbed the boy’s hands and looked him in the eye. ‘’Promise me you’ll do that, Douxie. You have to act like you have no idea about me suddenly disappearing, yeah?’’

‘’Yeah,’’ he nodded. ‘’I promise, (Y/N).’’

She wrapped her arms around his neck and he wrapped his around her waist, holding on to each other as if their lives depended on it. When they pulled apart, they pressed their foreheads together.

‘’Thank you for everything, Douxie. I’ll miss you so much.’’

‘’I’ll miss you, too, (Y/N).’’ They finally pulled away and she walked over to his door, hoping no one would see her. She opened it a little and when she saw that no one was around, she knew it was time to leave. The girl looked back to Douxie one last time and smiled at him. When she was about to leave, she heard the boy speak. ‘’I will find you, (Y/N). I won’t stop until I do, I promise.’’

‘’I can only hope you will,’’ she said before walking away.

…

(Y/N) was right, it didn’t take long for the king and his guards to get to his room. They were looking for the princess, but she was nowhere to be found, and Douxie was just as oblivious to the situation as everyone else.

After the guards made sure she wasn’t hidden in his room, they left. As soon as the door was closed, the boy fell to the floor. He brought his knees to his chest and started crying; he just couldn’t believe what had happened. He couldn’t believe his favorite person was gone.

He knew she was a witch, a powerful one, which meant she’d be able to live for a long time, just like him, but the world was a huge place and deep down he knew there was the possibility of never seeing her again.

Douxie tried to calm himself down, took some deep breaths, and ran his hands through his hair. Then, he remembered the letter, the last piece of her that he had.

He grabbed it and quickly opened it. First, he admired her handwriting, beautiful as always and then he started reading.

Dear Douxie,

If you’re reading this, it means that I’ve finally left. Deep down I think we all knew the palace wasn’t my place, I just never belonged inside these walls, but that doesn’t erase how much it hurts me to leave you.

You changed my life, Douxie, turned all the black and white into full colour, and I couldn’t be more thankful for that. You’re so important to me, I don’t think you understand how much you matter to me. You were my first real friend, you taught me what it meant to fully trust someone with your entire heart… and I guess you also taught me what love is. It’d be useless to try and hide it any longer, it’s been a while since there was something more than just a friendship between us. I wish I’d been brave enough to tell you sooner, to do something about it, but I didn’t. All I can say right now is that I love you, that I’m in love with you and that I’ll do anything I can to go back to you; I mean it, Douxie, I won’t stop until we’re together again because I know in my heart that these feelings will never go away, you mean the world to me.

Thank you for always being there when I needed you.

(Y/N).

Douxie didn’t know when he’d started crying, but he couldn’t stop. He covered his mouth with his hand to silence a sob, and then he wiped some tears off his face.

‘’I love you, too, (Y/N), and I’ll find you, no matter what,’’ he mumbled, making a promise to her once again, and also to himself.

...

900 years later

(Y/N) was just walking around the streets of Arcadia, minding her own business when suddenly she bumped into someone.

‘’Oh, I’m so sorry, I should’ve been more careful,’’ she said, apologizing to the person in front of her.

She barely even paid attention to the whole situation and was ready to keep walking, but she stopped in her tracks when she heard a voice. The same voice she’d dreamt about hearing again, the same voice she’d missed ever since that day in the castle. He only said her name, but that was enough for her heart to start racing.

(Y/N) turned around and their eyes locked, time seemed to have stopped. She barely had any time to properly react before his arms were wrapped around her body, and instinctively her arms did the same thing.

‘’Please tell me this is not a dream,’’ he said once they pulled apart.

‘’Douxie,’’ she mumbled, still unable to believe that it was really him. He let out a sigh when he heard her; he missed hearing her say his nickname, the one she’d given to him, the one he ended up using all the time because it reminded him of her.

‘’It’s me, (Y/N), I’m here. I said I would find you, that’s what kept me going for so long.’’ He said, truly speaking from the heart.

‘’I started losing hope a long time ago, to be honest,’’ she said. She wanted to hug him again, to tell him how much she’d missed him and how she was still head over heels for him, but she couldn’t. The past had changed her, she had to change in order to survive and she’d learned to be afraid of trusting people, even the ones she loved the most.

‘’What are you even doing here, though?’’

‘’I honestly don’t know, I just kind of ended up here I guess.’’

There was a pause between them. It all happened so fast, just a few minutes ago the hope of seeing each other again was nonexistent.

‘’I missed you so much, (Y/N). There’s so much I want to talk about and so much I want to hear from you. I-I can’t believe it’s really you.’’ She smiled at him, not really knowing what to answer. ‘’I still have your letter, there hasn’t been a day in which I didn’t think about it and what you said in it.’’

(Y/N) opened her eyes. She thought about that later almost every day, also remembering her words, her confession.

Douxie noticed that there was something wrong, it was evident in her silence, in how tense she seemed. He tried to grab her hand but she refused, taking a small step backward.

‘’Hey, what’s wrong?’’ He didn’t get an answer, just a scared and worried look in response. ‘’Look, do you think you could meet me after work tonight? I’d like to catch up with you and talk about everything, I guess.’’

‘’I- uh, I don’t know, I-.’’

‘’Please, (Y/N). I think we owe it to each other.’’

She took a deep breath and made eye contact with him for a split second. ‘’Okay, tell me where do you work.’’

…

Douxie’s shift was about to end. He was nervous, he couldn’t wait to see her again. When they saw each other earlier, he noticed she was acting a bit weird. Of course, he hadn’t seen her for nine centuries, but that wasn’t the (Y/N) he remembered. She was different, distant and cold. Deep down, he even thought if maybe he’d already lost her, nine hundred years was a long time after all.

He was closing the restaurant when he saw the girl approaching him.

‘’Hey,’’ she said once they were face to face.

‘’Hi, I’m glad you came.’’ There was a small silence between them. (Y/N) started playing with her fingers, trying to calm herself down. ‘’Listen, I know it’s late but would you like to walk around while we talk?’’

‘’Of course, yeah.’’ They immediately started walking.

‘’I have so much I want to say, but first I wanna hear about you, (Y/N). What have you been up to?’’

‘’Well, trying to put these last nine centuries into words would be a bit difficult. I haven’t been doing much, really, just trying to hide my magic from everyone, seems like I’ll always have to.’’ She mumbled the last part, but he could still hear her. It was evident she was talking about her father, who she hadn't seen since that night in the castle. ‘’What about you?’’

‘’Pretty much the same thing, I guess. I don’t usually stay that much in the same place, though. You know, always looking the same could raise suspicion.’’

‘’Yeah, tell me about it. After a while some people just start spying on you because they know there's something going on, or at least that happened to me.’’

They reached a bench and decided to sit down. (Y/N) tried to keep a bit of distance between them, something that the boy noticed, and he tried to hide his sad expression at the girls' action. They stayed quiet for a bit, the girl admired the stars while also allowing herself to enjoy the boy's company, even if deep down she knew she shouldn't have.

"I'm in love with you, too," said Douxie, breaking the silence and immediately creating a bit of tension in the air. "I still do, and I know I always will; my biggest regret is not telling you sooner, when we were together back in the castle." The girl opened her mouth to say something but Douxie didn't let her, he grabbed one of her hands and slowly caressed it before he kept talking. "Finding you is what kept me going for so long, I said it earlier, but it's true. This may seem like I'm trying to rush things but I think we've been apart for too long to keep waiting, (Y/N)."

He slowly grabbed her face and ran a finger along her cheek, pulling her closer to him, but she pulled away. "I can't, Douxie. I truly can't."

"What do you mean? Did you find someone else? Do you not love me anymore? It's okay if you don't, nine centuries is a long time-."

"I do still feel things for you, but these last years have been very hard, Douxie. I've learnt not to trust people, even those closest to me. Please, don't take this personally, it's not your fault."

He slowly nodded and then made eye contact with her. "I understand, I know how you're feeling, trust me. I also understand if you're not ready, and I would wait for you for a hundred lifetimes, my dear."

"I want to be ready, Douxie, I truly do. I want to be with you, it's what I've wanted ever since we'd walk around the castle, running away from Merlin or my father." She paused for a bit, taking a deep breath; it's like she was at war with herself, she'd been for a long time, but she was tired of fighting, of hiding, she wanted to let her walls down. "Maybe we could take things slowly," she said. They looked at each other and he caressed her cheek once again.

"Of course, my love, anything you need."

She leaned on his hand and closed her eyes, enjoying his warmth after so many years. "Would you kiss me?" she asked.

He simply grabbed her face and slowly pulled her closer to him, and finally their lips touched.

"I love you so much, (Y/N)," he whispered once they pulled away.

"I love you, too, Douxie."

They sat side by side and the girl rested her head on his shoulder, and he wrapped an arm around her. They didn't say anything, they didn't have to, they both knew what they were feeling at that moment. They were finally complete, and it was like every single bad thing they had to go through was worth it, because it had led them to that moment, to their encounter.

[hwangsies]

just the two of us

pairing: idol!lee minho × idol!f reader

warnings: smut as in, masturbation (f), softdom!minho (?), choking, thigh riding, somewhat denied orgasm i guess lol, swearing and bad descriptions of dancing

wc: idk maybe 2k?

enjoy <3

-

"hi guys, im on my way to the jyp building right now" you speak into the vlogging camera.

"...where i'm meeting stray kids lee know sunbaenim to study a choreography for us to perform at the upcoming awardshow" you smile into the camera, holding a thumbs up as you try to conceal your nervousness.

You know that the vlog isnt going to be released until after the show so you dont have to worry about spoiling anything.

"I'll see you guys later" you wave into the camera before handing it back to your manager who lets you know that you'll be there in about 10 minutes.

The only thing you're worried about is meeting a certain very handsome main dancer you may or may not have been biasing since his debut, which was about six months before your group had theirs.

So naturally, when your group grew big with you as their maindancer, and the organizers of the awardshow suggested that you and minho get together for a collaboration stage, you freaked.

Once you pull up to the jyp building, you can make out dispatch paparazzi and roll your eyes.

Your manager just reminds you to ignore them before getting out and opening the door for you.

Quickly you grab your bag and pull your jackets hood over your head.

They start calling your name but you and your team are quick to be inside of the building.

The nice woman behind the front desk gives your manager acsess cards as you look around to see the young camera woman on your team is already pointing the vlog camera on you so you wave into the camera.

Outside you see a crowd of fans also waving and pointing their phones at you through the large glass windows so you also wave back at them; laughing when one of them sends you a flying kiss, so you send one back.

"lets go y/n" your manager speaks to you, and you nod, waving goodbye to the fans before disappearing from their eyes as you step into an elevator.

Inside the elevator you check yourself out in the large mirror, pulling back your hood and smoothing out your hair.

"how do i look?" You ask your manager at which she grins "you look good, relax"

You sigh and nod, clearing your throat as to avoid a voice crack later.

When the elevator doors open, you see the famous dance practice rooms, that are named after big musicians on each side of the hall.

The door to the Madonna room is open and your manager leads the way.

Once you walk in you see another camera pointed at you, minho is standing in the middle of the room.

He as well has a camera pointed at him, he smiles when you lock eyes and bows.

You bow back when he walks towards you; extending his hand, you shake it.

"I'm Minho, nice to meet you" he smiles, he looks even better in person you think.

He's wearing light makeup but you can see that his skin is smooth underneath and his eyes seem even bigger and spraklier in person.

"Y/n, hi, nice to meet you" you bow again, partly to hide your blushing face.

After a minute of somewhat awkward smalltalk you hand your jacket and bag to your manager and the choreographer positions the two of you.

You had already memorized your part of the dance from the video he sent you and minho (you're assuming), now you just had to practice it together.

He makes you stretch to warm up before starting the music to see how much the two of you know of the dance.

Everything goes smoothly and the choreographer praises the both of you.

"lets go ahead and try the lift, im assuming you didnt practice that yet?" He asks.

"no" minho shakes his head, you do as well.

"okay minho, you hold her here" he takes minhos hand and places it on your waist.

"and on the inner thigh so you can spin her better" he explains, your mind starts running though.

What if he feels your inner thigh fat, or even worse, what if you sweat excessively and he slips and drops you.

Your thoughts get disrupted when minho carefully wraps his arm around you to grap onto your thigh.

"is that okay?" He asks from behind you, the little hairs on your neck rising.

"yea" you nod.

"okay, on my count" the choreographer speaks up "one, two..three and up!"

You tense your body when you feel him lifting you, your arms raise on their own accord, legs stiffening to create an aesthetic sillouette.

"very nice" the choreographer claps after minho lets you back down.

"lets take a break" one of the jyp staff members announces.

"you were great" you feel minhos hand graze your arm, your head whips around.

"oh, thank you" you smile sheepishly "so were you" earning a grin from him.

"thanks" he nods, grabbing a bottle of water before giving you one as well.

"thanks" you say, opening it and taking a few sips.

He watches you for a second before doing the same.

"hey, you guys" a young jyp staff woman comes up to you "we're gonna do a little sit down q&a moment, to give the fans some more interaction alright?" she explains, leading you guys to sitdown on the large sofa in the back of the room.

She moves back behind the cameras "so we're gonna be really casual okay? Im gonna throw in some questions and you just answer them"

You and minho nod, looking at each other before looking back at her.

"okay, so have you ever met before?"

"uh- well" you look at minho, he nods, encouraging you to talk "we've seen eachother at music shows, when we were with our members but we never talked" you say.

Minho nods.

"What did you think when you heard of this collaboration?"

Minho starts "i was excited because i think y/n has great stage presence and is a very talented dancer, so i think i could learn a thing or two from her"

"oh, thank you" you huff, surpressing a giggle as you bow slightly.

"What about you, y/n?"

"Uhm- well i was a little scared to be honest because he's really talented himself" you look over at him, so see he's smiling onto the ground "but also because i've been a fan of his since skz debuted so..."

"really?"

-

After coming back to the dorm and your members pressing you for every detail of what it was like to meet him and dance with him, you hop straight in the shower.

The warm water prickles at your face before you turn around, letting it run down your back.

You cant stop thinking about the feeling of his hands on your body, they were so strong and warm.

Or the one part of the chorepgraphy where you grind back into him and feel his muscular thighs flexed against the back of your own.

Not to mention his pretty smile and plump rosy lips, you would bet everything that he's a phenomenal kisser.

Your hand is trailing down your body as you imagine it was his, gently running over your mound before dipping into your folds.

A whimper slips past your lips out of frustration, its been way to long since someone had his way with you.

The idol life doesnt always leave time for that, but you can imagine what it would be like if you let minho have his way with you.

Your fingers start rubbing cirlces into your clit as you imagine him being the one to do it to you; kissing down your neck with his plump lips before toying at your nipples with his tongue.

You feel the way your belly tightens when you tink about how he would talk dirty; you dont know what would turn you on more, him calling you a good girl or a filthy little slut.

Would he let you cum right now or drag it out so your could cum around his cock? Damn you bet he has a gorgeous cock, everything on that man has got to be perfect.

And the way his dancer hips would snap into you would definetly be the thing to push you over the edge.

Your head rolls back and you bite your lip as to not let out a sound when your orgasm finally hits.

Your legs quiver a little when you ride out your high.

It wasnt the most earthshattering orgasm you've ever experienced but it did its job in satisfying you a little.

Clean and dry again, you let yourself fall onto your bed, sighing before you climb underneath your sheets.

Grabbing your phone from your nighstand, you see a message from an unknown number pop up.

unknown number : hey y/n -received at 9:56 pm

unknown number : its minho :) -received at 9:57 pm

Your heart skips a beat when the second one pops up, slowly you slide the message and land in the chat.

Whats a cool way to say hi back? hey?....no

sup? oh hell no

hiii....definetly not.

you: hi :) -sent at 9:58 pm

Good one, y/n.

you: how did you get my number? -sent at 9:58 pm

minho : my manager pulled a few strings lol, how are u? -received at 10:00 pm

you : im fine, a little tired ,hbu? -sent at 10:00 pm

Shit, yea go ahed y/n be the driest texter in the world no biggie, its not like this is lee minho.

minho: aww practice was to hard? lol im feeling fine -received at 10:01 pm

minho: jkjk lol the real reason im texting you is to ask if you want to meet up again -received at 10:02

Excuse me?

minho: yk, to practice but without all the cameras and people -received at 10:02

Okay, y/n calm down, dont answer yet. Dont make him think you're desperate to meet him again even though you are.

you: yea, sure. when are you free? -sent at 10:05

Very chill, nice job.

minho: im actually off the day after tomorrow, hbu? -received at 10:06 pm

you: i can make that work in the evening -sent at 10:06 pm

And there goes not looking desperate.

minho: nice, meet me here around 6 then? -received at 10:08 pm

minho has shared a location

minho: its an old dance studio, i know the owner :) -recieved at 10:08 pm

you: alright, see you then :) -sent at 10:09 pm

minho: good night y/n :) -sent at 10:09 pm

Do you send a good night back?...no, that would be too much...right?

You sigh and drop your phone next to you on your bed, your fists rubbing at your eyes.

There is no way you'll be able to sleep the next two nights.

-

It has been getting warmer recently, so you are surprised when the weather turns its back on you and suddenly blows icy wind against your face.

And you thought you had chosen wisely when only putting on a hoodie over your shirt.

You check your phone to see that you arrived at minhos sent location, yet there is no dance studio in sight.

Shivering, you turn around to search for signs on doors when you hear the door behind you opening.

"hey, in here" minho grins when you stumble around.

You look up at the building and look down at him.

"hi" you smile, somewhaþ confusedly.

"come in" he holds the door open for you.

"this building looks like its gonna get torn down soon" you say, still shivering a little as you look at minho, who's only sporting grey sweatpants and a black tshirt.

"it is" minho nods, looking around "sadly, i love coming here" he adds before looking back at you.

"still cold?" he asks, approaching you before rubbing over your arms with his hands.

"ye-huh" you interrupt yourself, gulping harshly when his cologne creeps up your nose.

He grins "better?" You nod, forcing a smile "yea, thanks"

An hour later, you are deeply immersed in the dance when you stumble at the same spot again, for the nth time.

"fuck" you aggrevatedly run your hand through your hair, angry at yourself for not getting this turn down the way it should look.

"I'm sorry, im usually not this bad i j-"

"you're not bad y/n" minho giggles, shaking his head "its alright, sometimes a move just doesnt work at first"

You huff out some air "im just nervous" you shake your head "i've never done a stage like this and i dont want to disappoint people"

"its normal to be nervous" minho stops the music before coming up behind you "just dont let it overpower the fun part"

He moves some hair from your shoulder "plus its just the two of us right now, and you cant disappoint me" he smiles softly, heat rushing to your cheeks.

"try positioning your hips..." he places his hands on your hips before gently rotating them to the left "... more like this before turning" he explains ,eyes locking in the mirror.

For a second, the only thing you can hear is your own heartbeat as his hands move up a little and linger on the exposed skin of your waist.

"okay" you breathe "lets try it from the top"

"yea?"

"yea" you nod.

The music starts again and your body takes over for you, you kick and jump and turn.

Minho lifts you like its nothing and before you know it, you do the turn exactly like you're supposed to.

The music stops and your breathing fills the silence before the euphoria of getting every single step down perfectly reaches your brain.

You squeal excitedly and clap before falling into minhos arms.

He stiffens at your touch and you immediately let go "i- i'm sorry- i dont know why-"

Suddenly, he lounges forwards and presses his plush lips against yours.

It takes you a second to register whats happening, but when his hands encase your waist, you sling your arms around his neck to pull him even closer.

An approving moan tears from minhos throat before he backs you up untill you feel the cold mirror pressed against your back.

You part your lips and let his tongue roll against yours , his hands roaming over your body.

Everything his happening so fast you cant track where they're going, first they're at your ass then one of them squeezes at your boob; and now it trails up your neck and wraps itself around it as he kisses down the other side.

You feel like your nerve endings are on fire everywhere his hands and lips wander, your eyes fluttering shut as you moan out his name.

He nips at your collarbone before coming back to your lips "i've wanted to do this since the second i saw you" his hand around your neck tightens protectively and you feel yourself clench.

"me too" you whisper before he crashes his lips to yours again, your hand tightening in his thick brown hair as the other clings to his shoulder.

A firm thigh lodges itself between your legs and you feel brave so you roll your hips into it. The ache thats building up in your clit, getting released a little.

Shamelessly you whimper against his lips.

He sucks your bottom lip inbetween his before breaking the kiss again, looking down at your ministrations.

"dirty girl" he grins, releasing your neck and placing both hands on your hips and helping you grind against his thigh.

Your head falls back against the mirror when the fabric of your cotton thong gets rubbed against your clit in just the right way. An almost pornographic moan leaves your lips, "fuck" you whine, locking eyes with minho again.

"god i wanna do so many bad things to you" he grunts, at which you swear you gushed a little more into your panties.

You see his cock straining through the flattering grey sweat material, your hand wandering towards it but he catches it.

"cum on my thigh and you'll get it" he promises, grinning when another high pitched moan spills from your pretty lips.

A sudden loud ringing makes you flinch, and minhos head whips around before removing himself from you.

"wha-?" you mumble confusedly.

He takes his phone and answers the incoming call.

"Hi, hyung" he speaks, turning around "i went for a run, yea-sorry...yea okay...okay bye" he hangs up.

"Who-?" you attempt to speak but your mind is still fuzzy as he throws his backpack over his shoulder and grabs his sweater before coming back to you.

"My manager" he says, taking your hand "i have to go"

"Oh-"

"I'm sorry" he kisses your lips "you want me to take you to your dorm?"

"No- no i dont want you to get in trouble" you shake your head.

"Sure?" He tilts his head.

"Yea, of course, im good" you nod, a smile tugging at your lips because he looks really cute with his messed up hair and puffy lips.

"Here" he gives you his sweater "im sure its colder now"

"you'll get cold though" you hold it up.

"nah, i'm hot blooded" he quips, leaning down to lock lips again.

More lingering this time, you feel you stomach churn with butterflies when he moves to your cheek.

"i'm not finished with you" he whispers into your ear, winking before walking out the door.

-

a/n: ik im supposed to be writing zephyr but this popped in my head and wrote itself so easily i was like👁👄👁 anyways hope u liked it🥰 not proofread so i just know there are thousands of spelling errors in there😍😍

[sunrisefairy]

Cameras and crushes

Pairing: George Weasley x reader

Warning: Alcohol, small mention of death, pure fluffiness 

Summary: Y/N is used to being a background character someone you glaze over but never really notice. But more recently she longed for someone to see her, well she longed for a certain redhead to see her. 

A/N: Wrote this for @theweasleysredhair​​ writing challenge based off the prompt “You remembered?” very proud of this fic so i hope you love it as much as i do. All feedback is welcomed :))))

italics represent a flashback 

Taglist: send me a message if you would like to be added @hufflepuff5972​ @inglourious-imagines​ @klausdatprettyboi​ @georgeweasleyswhre​​

————————————————————————

Y/N is very content with being a background character, she’s quite used to it actually. Growing up with 3 older and much louder brothers she was pretty happy with sticking to the sidelines, letting them be noisy and crazy while she kept to herself. Y/N grew up with mostly boys around her, her mother passed away when she was young. Y/N would always beg her brothers and her dad for stories of her mother, wanting to feel closer to her. Y/N’s dad would fondly retell memories of his beautiful wife, reminiscing on how witty and charismatic she was. He’d mention all the small, quirky things she would do which made him fall hard and fast for her. Y/N longed for that kind of love, she longed for someone to take notice of her in the way her dad did for her mum. Ever since Y/N was a little girl she yearned to be heard and seen but that proved difficult when you’re as shy and quiet as her.

Judging by most of the people in Y/N’s life she seemed to attract the boisterous types, guessing her quiet nature balanced them out. She loved her friends with her entire heart, even if their personalities were the opposite of hers, Y/N wouldn’t change their qualities if she could.

One of her friends, although still lively and vibrant as the others, also had a calm and tranquil side to him. George Weasley. Y/N had only known George for a few years having met at Lee Jordan’s 18th birthday 3 years ago. Somehow that night she had ended up climbing a tree with the tall redhead whom she had only met 30 minutes prior.

“How the hell did you get up to that branch?” Y/N mumbled, trying to figure out how to reach the higher branch where George Weasley was currently sitting, his long legs swinging back and forth as he chuckled at the girl below him.

“I used that branch sticking out there and then swung my leg up to get here.” George points to the branch to the girls left. 

Y/N grunts as she attempts what George said but huffs and pouts her lip feeling defeated, “you forget that I have little legs, unlike you Mr. giraffe.”

George rolls his eyes and stretches his hand out, “try again, I’ll help pull you up.”

Somehow, George manages to pull Y/N up and they sit comfortably next to one another up high in the tree. “There you go little bunny, don’t go falling off now.”

Y/N rolls her eyes at the nickname wishing she had brought her cider up with her feeling very self-conscious and unsure of what to do her shaking hands.

The pair fall into a comfortable silence, watching the party goers below them gathered around a very intoxicated birthday boy chanting as he chugs another beer, “we love to drink with Lee cause Lee is our mate and when we drink with Lee he gets it down in 8…7…”

Their voices drown out as George gently nudges Y/N’s shoulder pulling her attention back to him, “soo, Y/N I hear you’re not much of the talker?”

Y/N blushes hard grateful for the lack of light outside. “No I guess not. Not many are interested in what I have to say.”

George smiles, his eyes not leaving the girl beside him, “well I am. Tell me something.”

Y/N chews on her bottom lip nervously and looks back at the drunk crowd, “like what?”

George shrugs, he didn’t really mind what the conversation was about, he just wanted to hear the pretty girl speak. “I dunno, anything. Tell me about something that makes you happy.”

Y/N racks her brain for something to talk about, her palms getting sweaty from the long silence. Finally, she settles on something that always fills her with joy, her mother.

“Um okay so,” she starts staring at the leaves swaying in the tree, pushing down the anxiety. “Before my mother died she always had this film camera with her, my dad used to joke around saying that she loved this camera more than him,” Y/N chuckles quietly before continuing “She would take photos of the most random things, we have this big box back home filled with all the photos she ever took with that camera.” Y/N pauses, fumbling with her fingers. “I wish we still had the camera. You see after my mum passed, dad had to look after us 4 kids and with only one income coming in, it was pretty tough. For my 12th birthday I reeeaaally wanted a new bike, I’d complained for years that I couldn’t have my brothers old one because it was a gross boy’s bike. So, my dad sold my mums camera to get me a pink one. Kind of wish he didn’t because I would have loved to still have mum’s camera with us.”

Y/N finished and chewed her lip realising speaking about her dead mother probably wasn’t a great conversation piece, but any story of her mother always made her feel warm inside.

George hadn’t taken his eyes off her throughout the whole story, his heart fluttering when her eyes had lit up as she spoke about her mother.

“I’m sorry, probably not what you wanted to hear, it was the first thing that popped into my head.” Y/N mumbled.

George simply shook his head and replied, “you don’t ever have to apologise to me for saying what’s on your mind Y/N. I’ll listen to whatever you have to say.”

For the first time in a while, Y/N felt seen.

Y/N’s phone dings and she pulls it from her pocket to read the message.

-Hey bunny :) so 4 tonight, we’re aiming to get to urs at like 7. does that work for u?

It was from George. Even if she didn’t have his number saved, she’d be able to tell it was from the redhead simply from his choice of nickname. Y/N hated when he called her bunny but George insisted on using the nickname ever since Lee’s 18th mainly because he thought it was cute not that he would tell her that.

Y/N’s heart thumped harder in her chest purely from the fact that George had texted her. Her crush on George had amplified over the years of knowing the boy, feeling both thankful and uneasy at the fact that he had so effortlessly slotted into their tight friendship group mainly because he was always around making Y/N a stuttering mess.

Y/N’s fingers fumble as she types out a response, it was her birthday today and all her friends we’re persistent in throwing her a party. They had agreed to a small gathering at Y/N’s place, Y/N didn’t want them to make such a fuss over it.

-Hey Georgie, 7 is perfect! Cant wait.

-See u then bunny, hope ur ready to get ur drink on ;)

-IDK, after the other weekend I dont think im ready to face alcohol again

-nope! no excuses from u, u only turn 21 once

Y/N chuckles at George’s message and goes back to tidying her house, ready for tonight.

~~~~

As soon as it hits 7pm her friends are barging through her front door lugging drinks.

Each of them greet Y/N giving her a hug and wishing her happy birthday.

“We’ll do presents later, first let’s get some drinks into us!” Angelina cheers as she starts to mix some deadly concoction. Alicia connects her phone to the speaker, the living room filling with music.

Y/N jumps as a voice pipes up from behind her, “happy birthday little bunny.”

She turns facing George as he places a brightly coloured wrapped box on the counter with the other presents. He opens his arms, engulfing her into a giant hug. Y/N wraps her arms around his waist, giving him a tight squeeze, “thanks” she mumbles into his chest before pulling away looking up at his warm eyes. They stare at each other for a second before the moment is broken when Fred places something on Y/N’s head.

“A birthday tiara for the birthday girl” Fred states loudly, Y/N glances at the mirror hanging from the wall on her left sees a plastic silver and pink tiara perched upon her head.

“Oh god,” Y/N mumbles adjusting it slightly.

Lee shouts over the music, drawing everyone’s attention over to him. “Okay everyone, the ever lovely Angie has made us each a questionable looking but delicious drink to start the night. So get your butts over here and let’s get this party started!”

A few hours and many, many drinks later, everyone is huddled in the living room, sitting on the couches watching Y/N open her presents. So far, she had gotten some perfume from Angelina, chocolates and a gorgeous photo frame from Alicia and Fred and Lee had gifted Y/N with a bottle of wine and voucher from the little boutique at the corner of her street. Y/N’s cheeks were hurting from smiling so much and her heart swelled at the sweet gifts her friends had gotten her.

“Okay, only one left,” Alicia says, clapping her hands excitedly.

“Probably the best one,” Fred whispers to Lee.

“Of course it’s going to be the best one you idiot,” Angelina says as a matter of fact, overhearing the two boys.

George, who is sitting to Y/N’s right, hands over the brightly colour box, trying to hide his excitement and nerves. “Here you go Y/N, happy birthday.”

The box feels heavy in Y/N’s grasp as she places it in her lap tearing off the wrapping paper. Y/N glances around, noticing everyone’s eager eyes on her. She sees Angelina nudge Alicia’s side smiling at each other knowingly. Y/N furrow her brows, slightly confused then draws her attention back to the box. She ripped off the paper carefully and uncover a brown box, no hints as to what is inside.

“Oh my god, hurry up and open it the suspense is killing me!” Fred says impatiently, George whacks him across the head telling him to shut up.

Y/N take off the lid and immediately her mouth gapes open finally seeing what’s inside. She shakily lifts the film camera out of the box and hold it so gently as if it’s made of diamonds and gold.

Small tears prick in Y/N’s eyes, shocked and surprised at George’s gift, it looks exactly like the one her mother had.

She manages to squeak out a small, “you remembered?” referring to the first conversation they had 3 years prior.

George has a small smile etched onto his lips. “Of course I did, I remember everything you tell me. I take a lot of pride in knowing everything about you actually.” He says, puffing his chest out proudly.

“Yeah like what?” Y/N cradles the camera in her arms.

“Well,” George starts. “I know that you hate the smell tequila because it reminds you of your 18th when you spent most of the night by the toilet. I know that you can’t sleep if the room is dead quiet. I know that you love buying plants but can never seem to keep them alive. I know you never wear matching socks because you think it’s a fun way to spice up an outfit.” He finishes smugly.

Alicia and Angelina let out a small aww in the background reminding Y/N of the 4 other sets of eyes watching her and George right now.

“Well there’s one thing you don’t know about me.”

“Yeah? What’s that then?” George counters.

Y/N doesn’t know where she musters up the courage from to speak the next words, maybe from the alcohol buzzing through her body or finally being sick of keeping this to herself for the past 3 years. Whatever it may be, she’s rather proud of herself, ignoring the way her stomach churns.

“That I have a huge crush on you.”

She expected George to laugh in her face before rejecting her gently. What Y/N definitely didn’t expect was him to cradle her face in his large hands, pressing a sweet but passionate kiss to her pink lips. She squeaks in surprise before melting into the kiss, gripping onto his shirt tightly, scared he would slip away.

Much to Y/N’s dismay George pulls away from the kiss tucking a strand of her hair back behind her ear, “no I knew that too.”

“Wha-how?” Y/N stutters.

The attention is pulled to Alicia as she begins to speak, “it wasn’t much of a secret babe. Everybody knew you were crushing on George. Can’t believe it took either one of you so long to do something about it.”

“Little Georgie here spent months trying to find that camera for you as a way to confess his undying love for you.” Fred reaches over and ruffles his twin’s hair who shoves him off.

“Yep, we were all so bloody excited for you to open his presents so you two can stop pining over each other.” Lee adds downing the rest of his drink then standing up. “Right, now the two love birds have finally confessed their feelings. Who’s up for a round of beer pong? Reigning champion here has yet to be defeated.”

“You’re on Jordan, that ego of yours has gotten large enough.” Fred challenges, everyone moving over to the table to set up for beer pong. Leaving Y/N and George alone on the couch.

George wraps his lanky arm around Y/N’s shoulder pulling her into his side, “I hope you’re enjoying your birthday bunny.”

Y/N grins widely, playing with her new camera before lifting it up and aiming it at George. “best birthday ever Georgie, thank you.” She squeezes the button down, snapping a picture of George who is staring at her like she’s the only person in the world.

Y/N is very content with being a background character, she’s quite used to it actually. But for once she doesn’t mind being the centre of someone’s undivided attention.