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bawltongue · 1 year ago

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ROOMMATES - Pt 2

(jonathan davis x stealth transmasc reader <on t, post op top surgery>. takes place in early 90s, very beginning of korn. reader gets notice by landlord that they will have to share their space with a new roommate- that being jd. despite the readers initial lack of excitement, they get to know each other and develop a mutual liking)

18+ !!!!!!!

warning: substance use, lots of swearing, sexual tension, general faggotry

The morning following your tender night with Jon, you were awoken by the feeling of him unconciously slinging his leg over you. You were completely entangled in his grasp; arms clasped around your chest, leg slung over yours, the sound of his soft snores against the back of your head. Entrapped, yet you didn’t mind one bit. You were beaming uncontrollably before you were even fully concious. It felt so good to know someone you liked so much felt the same way about you. You laid in his clutches for a few extra minuets until the heat from his body and the blankets became a bit too much, causing you to try your best to inch away without waking him. The moment you slipped out from his arms, he whined drowsily.

“Mmm, no…” he groaned out in a sleepy, raspy voice. Eyes still closed. “Come back.”

You let out a light chuckle, turning toward him to see him sprawled out and half asleep still. His long, thin limbs outstretched toward you in an awkward position. “Sleep… please, Y/N.…” He muttered out. He looks so fucking cute. You couldn’t stop staring at him. His chest hair poking out of the top of the blanket, dreads messily encompassing his face, his stubble coming through.

“I want to, Jon… but I think you’re forgetting you have rehearsal today. Remember? I uh, wanted to tag along this time.”

He perked up a little and rolled onto his stomach groggily, holding his chin up with his hand and opening his eyes to look at you. A sliver of light that shone in through a broken blind lit his tired eyes up and made them appear like they were almost sparkling. It gave you butterflies to be making eye contact. You just found him to be so beautiful; and now you can allow yourself to express it as such. Leaning over the bed, you planted a soft kiss on his forehead.

“You’re finally gonna come?” He grinned showcasing his signature crooked teeth.

“Mhm. I’ve wanted to since you brought it up, I just never went ‘cause I didn’t wanna seem annoying.” You went over to your closet and started shifting through clothes, trying to find something subtly cool enough to impress his bandmates. He sighed, upset slightly that you would’ve ever thought he’d find you annoying.

“Anyways, it’s already like, two. I dunno what time-“

“Oh shit!” Jon sprung up clumsily and shoved his face into the clock on your dresser. “Fuck, okay, get dressed quick. We gotta bounce ASAP.”

He zipped past you and into the living room where his things were to throw on some random articles of clothing. You could hear him cursing under his breath from your room while you got changed. It was stressing you out a bit. Jonathan hadn't particularly struck you to be the most punctual guy. You grabbed your wallet and keys before walking out into the living room to catch up with him. With a death grip on your wrist, he pulled you outside and to his car. On the drive there, he was rambling about the songs they were writing, his bandmates and how they met, breaking down their personalities for you so you weren’t thrown for a loop. He was clearly teeming with nervous excitement to finally have you witness him sing with his band.

“Do you think your friends will like me?” You quietly asked, bouncing your leg with anxiety.

“Of course they fuckin’ will! ‘Cause I like you.” He raised his eyebrows and smiled at you, momentarily taking his eyes off the road to reassure you. “You’re likable… and cool. If anything, I’m more worried that you won’t like them.” He came to a harsh break at a stop sign and turned toward you, a soft and sympathetic expression on his face. “You’re gonna do fine. I know you get anxious about social stuff, but I promise. They’re just a couple ah weird dudes. It’ll be like chillin with a bunch of monkeys that play instruments and drink beer.” He beat his chest and howled like an ape to make you laugh; it worked.

For the remainder of the car ride, he held your hand in his, intertwining your fingers and rubbing his thumb across your knuckles. Initially you were hesitant to be the one to grab his hand, but he shamelessly snatched yours up once he saw your fingers twitch. The sweaty palms didn’t deter him from wanting to keep your fingers laced as long as possible. The two of you pulled up into the driveway of a relatively small home. The garage was wide open, revealing three men sitting in a circle drinking beers around various instruments. The one who had a series of braids sticking out of his head stood up and waved cartoonishly with both arms.

“JOOOON! YOU’RE LATE, BITCH!” He ran up to the car and beat on the drivers’ side window. Jon turned toward you, quickly uttering “That’s Brian” before opening up the car door and embracing his friend. You felt your heart rate increase at the thought of interacting with a new group of people. All you could do is stand by the car and silently observe. They briefly caught up and exchanged friendly banter. You were trying to learn their names through the conversation.

“Where’s Fieldy, ya’ll?” Jon questioned.

“Muthafuckin’ late again of course.” The one Jon had referred to as David responded, a wide cheeky grin on his face. Jon was so stressed out about being late, but the guys didn’t really seem to care nearly as much as he did.

“It’s cool, we’ve just been cracking into the beers he left last sesh until you guys showed up. Here.” The one with dreads slurred out, handing a beer to Jon. “Hey man, want one?” He gestured toward you, holding a can and smiling sweetly. It snapped you out of your silent observation and you walked toward him, forcing a smile on your face as you grabbed it. “Thanks brother, I appreciate it.”

“No prob man. Names’ James, but you can call me Munky.” He drunkenly fist bumped the hand you had clasped over your beer. “That goofy motherfucker is Head, and that’s David.” He pointed to his friends who both enthusiastically waved at you. Jon was smiling uncontrollably as he pulled up a chair behind you for you to sit in and join.

“Cool. M’ names Y/N. It’s dope to finally meet you guys.” You nodded your head and cracked your beer open, taking a seat. Jonathan sat on the ground criss cross between you and Head.

“We know. Jon talks about you like, a lot. Woulda assumed he was tuggin’ on your nuts behind the scenes.-”

“Oh yeah, we go at it fuckin’ hard.” Jon smacked Heads’ shin making a goofy expression. “Shut the hell up before I tug your nuts.” You couldn’t suppress the heat in your face. It was really cute that Jon talked about you so much to his closest friends. You laughed awkwardly and took a sip of your beer, patting Jons head. He threw his head back and looked up at you. “See? A bunch of fuckin’ morons.” He slyly winked.

For the next forty five minuets until Fieldy arrived, the boys made a conscious effort to make you feel comfortable. They talked about their instruments, tattoos, cracked jokes and tried to make you laugh as much as they could. A couple beers in and you found yourself feeling significantly more comfortable then expected. They really made you feel like part of the group and seemed to enjoy your company despite your somewhat reserved nature. Jon was beaming with excitement every time you commented, laughed or interjected. You had learned how they came to be a band and their first impressions of Jon; listening to them reminisce was really sweet and intriguing. It only made you want to learn more about Jonathan and his life.

Once Fieldy arrived - and got pelted with empty beer bottles due to being ridiculously late - he introduced himself to you before they got fully set up to play. You sat on a foldout chair in the driveway, your fourth beer in your hand as you watched them scramble to their respective spots. Before you knew it, you were deeply enveloped in music you had never heard before. You had no idea Jon was capable of projecting his voice and creating the sounds he was making. The emotion on his face and the way he moved and danced while singing sent waves of shivers down your body. Peeling your eyes away for even a second wasn’t an option. In fact, the whole band had your attention in a chokehold. It felt like a new world had opened up for you. Even when they would stop in the middle of a note and have a technical discussion, dick around or try to figure something out, it was beyond intriguing to listen to and watch. Every now and then before he’d start singing, Jon would nod at you to make sure you were doing okay. You were more than okay.

They played a total of 7 songs, each at least twice. It was mesmerizing. You caught yourself with a gaping mouth more than a couple of times. The boys wrapped things up and all shuffled over to you to ask your opinions. You could barely get your thoughts to come out as words in your half drunken, completely awestruck state, but did your best in showering them with compliments. You got a hug from Munky, Fieldy and Head and an honorary fist bump from David after they had invited you to come back to the next rehearsal. Jon said his goodbyes to his friends and you guys dipped with a pack of warm beer and a tightly packed joint that Fieldy sent the both of you off with. You hopped in the passenger seat of the car, and waved goodbye to the band; both of you a little bit intoxicated. The second Jon pulled out of the driveway, he turned to you with a hopeful smile.

“Now that it’s just us… what’d you think? Like honestly?”

“Dude, I think you’re fucking amazing. I think I’m your biggest fucking fan now.”

He snickered somewhat timidly. “Really? That means a lot coming from you.” Jon snuck a quick glance of admiration at you, fighting back a toothy grin. “Can I maybe get a kiss for doing so good?”

“You can get a million kisses!” You leaned over the center console in his car and left a series of quick kisses all over his cheek, causing him to giggle. He turned his head for a brief moment at a stop sign and your lips impacted each other sweetly. The two of you turning hot in the face, his cheeks bright red.

“We oughta crack into these beers and this mothafuckin’ joint when we get back to the apartment.” Jon excitedly mentioned. You felt eager, yet a little anxious to get high with him now that your feelings were out in the open. For the rest of the short lived car ride, you rested your hand on his thigh while you had lighthearted conversation. Every now and then giving a squeeze when he’d come up a bit too fast at a stop light, or make a harsh turn. It’s almost as if he started doing it intentionally at one point just to feel your grip tighten on him just a little bit.

Arriving at the apartment felt relieving after a long day of socializing with new people. The pressure you felt for the last few hours started to melt away a bit once you glanced around. Realizing you were home alone with the man you had deep feelings for and were getting progressively more comfortable around with every day. Jon pulled two lukewarm beers out of the pack and handed you one, fumbling with the joint in his pocket. He grabbed your free hand and started pulling you toward the balcony door; clearly very eager to get crossfaded together. The two of you sat down on the cruddy chairs, the sun beginning to set as orange light shone on your faces.

“Ready to get fucked up?” He toothily smiled, flicking the lighter you had left on the ground outside and taking the first deep inhale. You couldn’t help but smile, observing how attractive he looked blowing out the smoke. You shifted your seat closer to him so your knees were slotted in between each other. He raised the joint up to your lips and lit the end, prompting you to breathe in a hardy hit. You leaned your head back as you exhaled above you. Your head dropped down again and your eyes met with Jons’. He was staring at you with a soft gaze of adoration.

“Shit, you’re so fuckin’ handsome.” He took another hit of the joint. “It blows my mothafuckin’ mind.” He once again pressed the still lit joint to your lips, simultaneously taking a swig of his beer. A grin spread across your face as you remained locking eyes with him, taking a drawn out hit; a bit bigger then you anticipated, actually.

“Says you. You’re fucking beautiful.” You accidentally exhaled smoke into his face making him squint slightly, but not lessening his smile. He put his hand up to your cheek softly and caressed it with his thumb. His eyes darting between your pupils and your lips. The two of you already feeling yourselves getting gradually more intoxicated as the beer and weed intertwined in your systems. You couldn’t tell if your comment had gotten tears to well in his eyes or if they were already starting to glaze over.

“You think I’m beautiful?”

“Very beautiful. I’ve thought so since you first bumbled into my apartment.”

He couldn’t help but lean fully forward, closing in the last few inches between your faces. Smashing his lips into yours lovingly, he moved his other hand up to your cheek as he held your head gently. Your own hands found his knees as he barely gave you time to breathe before pulling away from your passionate kiss. There were definitely tears in his eyes.

“That means a lot to me, Y/N. You mean a lot to me.” Jons’ voice cracked out, your face still resting in his hands.

“You mean a lot to me too. You make me feel so normal.” You sighed, lightly dragging your fingers along his knee. “Jon… thank you for accepting me.”

“Accepting you? Man, I hit the fuckin’ jackpot!”

You both laughed as you lightly slapped his thigh, him leaning in to give you more kisses, occasionally nibbling on your bottom lip. The taste of smoke and your beers mixing in a comforting way, sending firecrackers and fast heartbeats through both of you. Before you knew it, you had finished almost the whole joint together. Talking about your feelings and attraction through the hits you were taking, giving each other soft kisses and light touches.

“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever actually liked a guy this much.” Jons’ eyes were totally bloodshot as he gazed into yours. “It feels so weird. Not like a bad weird, just a different weird… like, I wanna know every part of you.” He paused for a moment before moving his hand down from your upper thigh to your knee. “Not like that. Well, yeah, like that, but not just like that. Don’t get it twisted, I definitely want that… Just- Should I stop talking? I sound like a fuckin’ pervert now.”

He slapped himself in the forehead which prompted you to burst out laughing. He giggled in response, relieved that he hadn’t creeped you out, but obviously feeling mildly embarrassed. You reached a hand out to peel it away from his red face.

“You’re fine. I know what you mean…” you wrapped his fingers in yours, squeezing his hand lightly to reassure him.

“I don’t think I’ve liked a guy this much either. In fact, I don’t really think I’ve liked anyone this much. So it is kinda weird, but I dig the weirdness.” You leaned forward kissing him on the lips swiftly. “… and for the record, I wanna know every part of you, too. Both in the innocent, sweet, deep secrets sorta way and, like- well, the other way. How could I not?” You glanced down for a moment attempting to hide your expression from him. It wasn’t often at all that you talked about your feelings with people. You had probably spoke more about yourself and the inner workings of your mind with Jonathan in the last month then you had with anyone your whole life. It was a much needed change. He was sensitive and empathetic. Easy to talk to, whether the conversation was serious or stupid.

“That definitely makes me feel better.” He stuttered out; his voice cracking a little bit. Jon moved his hand back up to your thigh and squeezed softly, biting his lip. “I really really like you, Y/N.”

“I really really like you too, Jonathan.” You placed your hand on his and leaned in to kiss him. It very rapidly went from a sweet, soft kiss to getting rougher in nature. He was soon biting at your lips and pushing at your teeth with his tongue. His hand rubbing your thigh as he pushed his knee in closer to your crotch, your legs fitting together like puzzle pieces. He had his other hand running through your hair sweetly, lightly tugging a few strands each time you’d bite his lips back or let a soft noise out into his mouth. Your own hands were weaving through his dreads, curling them through your fingers and pulling his head toward your own. The two of you had completely lost track of time as you passionately made out and caressed each other for hours. Getting progressively more desperate for each other, but taking it slowly regardless. Pulling away for a much needed breath, you shifted your glance at the night sky; leaving Jonathan panting and resting his head against the nape of your neck.

“How long have we been out here?”

“I have no fuckin’ idea. Can we keep kissing again?” Jon bit at your neck in a needy manor and ran his fingers up your back, giving you goosebumps. Your hands still gingerly holding and petting his hair. “Please?”

Placing a kiss on top of his head, you sighed out; “I have work tomorrow, bubs. I gotta be up early.” Disappointment prevalent in your voice. Your high had began to come down quite a bit ago and your exhaustion and realization started to kick in once you noticed the darkness outside. Jon bit your neck with a bit more force, making you jump a little in your seat.

“Fuck work, when I’m famous you won’t need it no more.”

“I know. Until then though, we need to afford rent. Come on, you big baby.” You snickered and tried to stand up, to which he limply collapsed onto your lap, trapping your body down. You couldn’t stop from giggling wildly at his childish behavior. It was one of the stupid little things about Jon that you found so endearing. Somehow, you managed to stand up, finally getting him to lazily rise to his feet. You caught yourself looking up at him. It was easy to forget he was taller then you. Planting another quick kiss on your lips, you grabbed his hand and led him into your room, eager to lay down. Looking at the time on the clock felt of very little importance.

“I can sleep in here with you again?”

“Dur.”

Jon swiftly stripped to his boxers and collapsed onto the bed as you followed suit. The two of you excitedly covered yourselves with blankets and scooted in close to one another. Something you had learned very quickly, even before discussing your feelings with each other, was that Jons’ love language was physical touch. He always had to have his hands or fingers on you, his head resting on your shoulder, your legs on him, his arms around you, and so on. Now that your mutual feelings were out in the open, he had already gotten significantly more touchy. He pulled you close to him, enveloping you in the feeling of his body hair tickling your bare skin and the warm embrace of his arms around you. You decided in the moment it would be best to ignore his boner pressing against you, though it was making you feel distractingly hot. Jon’s fingers were playing with your happy trail, tickling you slightly.

“I like your hair…” he breathily whispered in your ear, giving you chills. “You’re such a pretty boy.”

“Thank you…” A wide, sleepy grin plastered across your face with his words. You wanted to flip around and kiss him so fucking bad, but were too comfortable. “I like your everything.”

“I like your everything.”

Despite your mutual frustration, it didn’t take long for the pair of you to fall asleep. Jon nodded off first, caressing your skin with his fingers until the sound of his soft snores hit your ears. Shortly thereafter, once again trapped in his clutches, you had no choice but to fall asleep in his arms as well.

The night was quiet and peaceful. The two of you had shifted around in your sleep a few times so you were no longer wrapped in Jons’ arms. It had been only a couple of short hours before the sound of a faint squeak had awoken you. You remained half asleep, facing the wall of your bedroom until your eyes shot open with a sound you weren't at all anticipating. You froze, eyes wide, trying to figure out the noises your ears were registering.

#jonathan davis x reader #jonathan davis x transmasc reader #jonathan davis x ftm reader #jonathan davis fic #jonathan davis #korn fic #bawltongue writes #roommates #fic

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cheri-translates · 4 years ago

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[CN] Shaw’s Scorching Waves Date (Eng Translation)

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for an S2 date, 炙浪之约, which has not been released in English servers! 🍒

Features S2 Shaw!

[ This date was released in CN on 28 Sep 2020 ]

MC: Mister, this is the place!

After paying the passenger fare, I hurriedly get off the car, but find that the entrance of Live House is already very crowded.

Sweeping my eyes across the area, I receive a shock.

Whether they are male or female, everyone here is donned in punk style: ripped shirts, leather outfits, jackets with rivets on them... A few people even have cool mohawk hairstyles.

At the side, the words “Rock ‘n’ Roll Night” are spray-painted on a wall. Below them is an eye-catching line--

"No entry if your attire doesn’t match the theme”

MC: ...

I look at my surroundings, then lower my head to look at my own officewear... Clearly, under such circumstances, I won’t be able to enter.

With uncertainty in my heart, I take out my phone and make a call.

After a few dial tones, Shaw’s languid voice drifts into my ear.

Shaw: What’s up?

MC: I’m at the entrance of Live House now.

Shaw: You really came?

His sentence ends with an upward lilt, as though a little surprised.

MC: Yeah. Over the phone last night, didn’t you tell me to come over after my meeting? Since it’s a formal invitation from you, and you’re performing a new song, of course I couldn’t miss it.

Probably not expecting that I’d rush over in time, Shaw pauses at the other end of the line for a while.

Shaw: ...you’re pretty punctual. Are there many people outside?

MC: Yeah. But the doors don’t seem to be open yet.

Shaw: Of course. After all, I just reached too. Who knew that Old Man would drag out the lesson...

MC: But what do the words on the wall mean? I didn’t know there was a dress code to watch the performance.

Shaw: You didn’t actually wear business attire over, did you?

Shaw’s laughter of ridicule drifts to my ear. Slightly angry, I grip the phone tightly.

MC: If you keep laughing, I’m leaving!

Shaw: Tch, try to leave if you can. All right, wait where you are.

Shaw pauses, and the soft sound of breathing can be heard from the other end of the line. He seems to be stretching.

Shaw: I’ll pick you up.

Because of the way I’m dressed, a few staff members I walk past along the corridor to the break room can’t help but cast sidelong glances at me.

Entering the break room, I discover that there isn’t a single person inside.

MC: Eh, where are the other band members?

Shaw: They’re still on the way.

Shaw closes the door, then lies down on the sofa lazily. I once again check the time.

MC: But the performance is starting in half an hour. Don’t you guys need to rehearse?

Shaw: We’ve been prepared since a long time ago. Heading straight to the stage afterwards is fine. Come to think of it...

He tilts his head, looking me over.

Shaw: This is the first time I’m seeing someone wear business attire to watch a performance.

MC: The fact that I could rush over already means a lot. Be contented.

Shaw: In that case, prepare yourself to be “saluted” by others later.

I lower my head to look at my outfit. It truly doesn’t suit the crowd.

Also, since there are so many people today, it wouldn’t be convenient to move around later on.

Just as I furrow my brows in vexation, Shaw suddenly speaks.

Shaw: Hey, I have a suggestion.

Meeting his mischievous gaze, a bad feeling arises in my heart.

MC: ...what are you planning to do?

Shaw: Since I didn’t notify you in advance, I thought of an idea.

He suddenly stands up and walks towards the wardrobe at the side.

After rifling through it for a while, Shaw takes out a black coloured leather jacket.

Shaw: Try it.

MC: ...is this yours?

Shaw: Why do you care about so many things? Just try it on.

I take the jacket from him. Skeptical, I bring it to my nose to give it a sniff - it has a faint peppermint scent. Looks like it’s pretty clean.

Watching my actions, Shaw gives me a subtle look, and releases a soft “hmph”.

Shaw: If you don’t want to wear it, forget it.

MC: Who says I’m not wearing it.

I snatch the jacket back. Although there are still some concerns in my heart, I can’t be picky considering the current circumstances.

The jacket is a little large, and hangs on my body loosely. However, it’s able to cover my short shirt.

MC: How’s this?

Shaw: The way you’re dressed...

Shaw pauses, then chuckles softly.

Shaw: Looks pretty punk.

MC: I never thought watching a performance would be so troublesome... Why did you guys suddenly think of having a theme?

Shaw: Because it’s fun.

Shaw responds instantly.

Shaw: People who watch the performances range from working adults to students - all sorts of people. But after changing their outfits, no one will care about their identity. Before music, nobody’s different.

I look at Shaw, a little surprised. I originally thought this activity was just a spur of the moment for them, and didn’t expect that there’d be such a meaning behind it.

Just when I’m about to say something, the lights above my head suddenly flicker.

MC: What happened? Is there a problem with the lights?

With a glance, Shaw answers indifferently.

Shaw: The voltage isn’t stable, that's all.

Before I can probe further, a series of knocks come at the door. A staff member opens the door, and tells Shaw--

Staff: Get ready, the performance is about to begin.

In Live House, there are a mass of bobbing heads as the restless crowd congregate near the stage.

After a short while, I’m pushed to the back.

MC: Do I have to squeeze through the crowd...

Looking at the crowd before me, which is so packed till there isn’t a single crevice, I'm at my wit’s end, and stand in place.

Man A: That bass player is quite interesting. My girlfriend likes him a lot.

Man B: Oh? You’re very magnanimous. Not jealous?

Man A: She just appreciates his musical abilities. He plays really well. See for yourself later.

The conversation between the two man standing in front of me drifts over to my ears. I can’t help but laugh.

If Shaw knew how he was being commented on, I wonder what he’d think of it.

I whip out my phone, taking a few pictures of the scene.

“There are so many people here today! Seems like quite a number of them are here for you.”

After penning my text message, I send it to Shaw along with the photos.

The performance is about to begin. Despite thinking he wouldn’t reply, my phone suddenly vibrates.

A sentence flashes on the screen.

Shaw’s message: Why are you so far behind?

After a few seconds, another message appears.

Shaw’s message: Don’t move around. I’ll look for you later.

I’m just about to reply. At this moment, the lights extinguish. The entire venue dives into pitch darkness, and the background music stops.

Without the hyping up of a host, and along with a flurry of shrieks, the band members enter the stage.

Purple light streams down slowly, shrouding the entire stage together with faint mist.

Shaw walks in last, his steps indolent. But his figure is tall, straight, and proud.

He hangs the bass over himself casually. Exchanging a glance with his bandmates, his fingertips flit across the strings lightly.

Along with the first sound from the drums, the performance officially begins.

Without unnecessary cushioning or embellishments, the music goes straight to the theme. The rapid and fierce melody propels the hearts of everyone to beat along with the rhythm and notes.

I’m standing below the stage, my eyes fixed on the people above it.

Just like the first time I watched him perform, I almost forget to breathe in the midst of the shocking music.

Shaw’s fingers fly back and forth on the strings. He is so skilled in his techniques that even if you were to keep your eyes wide open, you wouldn’t be able to see how he moves his fingers clearly.

The lights and shadows intersperse like an illusion. He sways along with the rhythm, the light in his eyes even fiercer than the swift melody from his fingertips.

I grip the jacket on me. In the crowd - as what Shaw said - I have forgotten my own identity in this very moment.

Just like a normal rock lover, I can’t help but raise my hands in the air.

The climax gradually nears, and the entire crowd waits for the explosive point, their insuppressible shrieks surfacing one after the other.

At this point, the lights hanging on stage suddenly release a “PA” sound, and sparks appear in the air.

The audience in the front row cry out in alarm. The lights continuously flicker, and the buzzing sound of electricity can be heard.

Audience A: !! Did something happen?

Audience B: Seems like a problem with the lights. Could this be a stage malfunction...

People on and off the stage seem to notice this unforeseen event, and chaos erupts in the venue.

Suppressing the panic in my heart, I lift my head to look at Shaw.

In the middle of the flickering lights, I see a bewildered expression on his face too.

After a moment, he seems to think of something. He suddenly lifts his eyes and looks at the audience, his probing glance sweeping across them.

My heart jolts. Subconsciously, I give him a wave.

The surroundings are filled with the clamour of people. After sweeping past numerous profiles, Shaw’s eyes fall on me.

The moment our eyes meet, his frown smoothens out. Under the ever-changing lights and shadows, he reveals a flamboyant smile.

Shaw: Scared?

What’s there to be afraid of? Baffled, I shake my head.

Shaw holds back his smile for a moment, and he seems to be making a soft “tch” sound.

The crowd is still in chaos. Quite a number of them even squeeze towards the entrance, planning to leave the venue.

A staff wearing a name-tag is currently maintaining order in front. My eyes brighten, and I hurriedly squeeze myself over to him.

MC: Hello! The lights have been flickering, and I think it could be because the circuit over there has some issues.

Staff: All right, thank you!

The clamour from the crowd seems to cover the music. I lift my eyes to look at Shaw, and discover that he’s currently staring at the flickering lights, and I can’t tell what he’s thinking about.

Suddenly, he lifts his hand, and a bright light reflects from the pick between his fingers.

Shaw: Hey, catch up!

He steps on the pedal, matching the rhythm of the flickering lights. A few band members start to react.

The drummer raises his drumsticks in the air, tapping them together a few times. The band members exchange glances, cooperating with the rhythm to commence a spontaneous performance.

When the audience notice that the performance is continuing, they start cheering enthusiastically. Without realising it, I also start to cheer.

Shaw pulls out the wire connected to the bass. He walks to the side of the stage, his gaze sweeping across the crowd slowly.

He stretches out his index finger, pointing at the most raucous part of his audience, his eyes burning with fiery light.

The mood of the audience is instantly ignited, and they respond to him with gestures.

Shaw takes two steps back. Then, he turns around fiercely, jumping into the air.

At this moment, the hanging coloured balls open and countless ribbons drift downwards.

The glaring lights stop flickering, and they are all focused on Shaw.

Standing at the back, I see Shaw being lifted by the crowd. Along with the surge of the crowd, he draws closer to me.

The performance on the stage continues. The turbulent music excites every single cell in one’s body in an unparalleled manner.

The performance reaches its peak, and everyone excitedly waves their hands in the air. It’s as though the earlier incident was nothing more than for performance effect.

Shaw and I exchange glances. Even though we’re separated by the crowd, he looks at me with an unbridled smile.

My heartbeat speeds up in my chest along with the sound of the drums.

The thin coat of sweat on his collarbones, his intense gaze, and that hand reaching towards me--

All of them render me unable to avert my gaze.

In the break room, I shut the door, cutting myself off from the merriment outside.

With twenty minutes left for the performance, Shaw suddenly handed his bass to me, and asked me to wait for him in the break room.

I look around my surroundings, but don’t see Shaw.

MC: Why is he always like this - deciding things for himself...

I sigh softly, looking at the bass in my arms. My mind flashes back to images of him performing.

I can't help but raise my hand. Based on the melody in my recollection, I try plucking on the strings, humming the tune softly.

??: Hey, you’re out of tune.

I jolt. Turning around, I meet Shaw’s sly gaze.

MC: ...didn’t you manage to recognise what I was playing? It shows that I’m not lacking in talent.

Lowering my head, I continue strumming the strings in indignation. But my wrist is suddenly grabbed from behind.

Shaw: You can use one finger to pluck the strings. That way, the timbre will be more even.

Before realising it, Shaw is already standing behind me. I feel his breath on my ear, and it carries the same fresh peppermint scent as the jacket on me.

I pause, then follow his advice on how to play the bass, realising that there’s indeed an evident change in the timbre.

Shaw: How is it? Isn’t it much better?

Before I can respond, footsteps are heard at the door.

In the next second, the door is pushed open. A band member enters, teasing him good-naturedly.

??: Shaw, are you able to rush your assignment before the deadline...

His voice suddenly halts. The moment he sees me, a few band members freeze.

When they notice the jacket on me, their expressions abruptly change, looking as though they’ve seen a ghost.

Adam: Isn’t that...

Jensen: All right, let’s not disturb their interaction and studies.

Jensen’s voice is genial. A few of them who tacitly understand his words start laughing.

Jensen: Shaw, catch!

A silver coloured object flies in an arc through the air, and a set of keys fall squarely in Shaw’s hand.

Jensen: We’re off. Remember to lock the doors.

In the blink of an eye, they’re all gone.

MC: Is there something about this jacket?

Shaw rolls his eyes, walking over to the side to tidy up.

Shaw: Don’t bother about them. Let’s go.

There’s nobody in the main hall of Live House - a complete opposite of the lively atmosphere just now.

The loudspeakers and musical instruments on the stage have yet to be kept. A sole spotlight is turned on, and messy electrical cables are on the floor.

Thinking about the nice yet interrupted new song just now, a faint sense of regret surfaces in my heart.

MC: Shaw, could you play the bass again?

Shaw pauses in his footsteps. He turns his head to look at me, his expression baffled.

MC: That new song today - you only played it halfway before having to stop. I want to hear you play the full song.

Shaw: Right now? You really know how to order people around. Forget it, I'm in a good mood today. Wait here.

Shaw: Wait here.

He tosses his bag at me, then takes large strides to the front, hopping up onto the stage.

He picks up the bass casually. Plugging the wire in, he lowers his eyes and sweeps a glance at me.

Shaw: This time, you’ve got to listen carefully.

With this, a melody gradually flows from his fingertips.

Although it’s the same song, it’s different from his performance earlier. He plays every beat unhurriedly, his posture casual and relaxed.

I’m sitting on the floor, quietly listening to the low sounds of the bass, humming along with the music.

The timbre of the bass beneath his fingers is low and unruly. The occasional pauses and increases in speed are reminiscent of himself and how he does things as he pleases.

There’s a strange tugging of my emotions as memories of the past echo--

A very long time ago, underneath similar dim lights, I had watched Shaw’s performance for the first time.

I tug on the jacket over me, immersing myself in my thoughts, not noticing that Shaw has furrowed his brows above the stage, slightly upset.

Shaw places the bass to the side, then suddenly jumps off the stage.

MC: !

The thud of his feet making contact with the ground pulls me back to the present.

Amid the blurry lights and shadows, the image of him hopping off the stage and the image before me overlap.

In the quiet evening without a restless crowd, Shaw walks towards me, every step especially clear.

He stops before me. I lift my head to look at him, but am caught off guard when he flicks my forehead.

MC: Ah!

Shaw: You couldn’t keep your eyes off me when there were many people around. Why do you start losing focus when there are fewer people?

Shaw: Tch, you don’t know how to cherish this.

His face is within reach. My heart beats erratically in my chest once again, just like it did when he was surfing the crowd towards me.

MC: When was I unable to keep my eyes off you...

Shaw arches his brows, his expression reading: “Don’t even think of denying it”.

MC: I was just wondering why you thought of hopping off the stage earlier.

Shaw: What?

MC: Just now, during the performance. If you had waited for the staff to fix the lights, you wouldn’t have needed to go through such trouble, right?

MC: Also, do you like getting off the stage like that? Isn’t it good to use the stairs?

Shaw: But it’s cooler like this.

Shaw’s tone is confident, and the corners of my lips tug upwards involuntarily.

Shaw: Also, this time is different from before.

MC: How so?

Shaw: It isn’t an accident this time.

He takes the bag in my hands, then walks towards the entrance.

Shaw: Why are you still standing there? Let’s go.

The streets in the wee hours of the morning are tranquil and empty. The streetlights outside Live House cast small, round halos.

Shaw doesn’t speak. A lively melody drifts from his earpieces, and he’s humming a certain song from his band softly.

Shaw: Hey, your car’s here.

I nod, my eyes falling on the skateboard beneath his arm.

MC: You don’t plan to ride the skateboard home today?

Shaw: The board needs waxing. Oh yes, remember to share your location with me when you’re in the car.

We bid each other goodbye with a wave, and I enter the car. With the clinking sound of metal buttons, I realise that I’m still wearing that black coloured jacket.

I roll down the window, and exclaim at him.

MC: Shaw, thanks for your jacket!

Shaw appears to pause in his steps. After a while, he lifts his hand and waves it in the air casually. He doesn’t turn around, carrying the bass.

Shaw: Remember to wash it before returning it to me next time.

Moonlight falls on the ends of his hair, coating it with a tender halo. Shaw steps into the tranquil night, and it seems like his footsteps have become slightly lighter.

🎸 MOMENTS 🎸

Shaw’s Post: The first time seeing someone wearing business attire to watch a performance.

MC: You’ve already said it once!

Shaw: Saying it twice isn’t enough to express my surprise.

Shaw’s Post: The first time seeing someone wearing business attire to watch a performance

MC: And with high-heels. My feet were close to giving up when I reached home...

Shaw: You should have mentioned it earlier. I have a pair of shoes in the break room.

Shaw’s Post: The first time seeing someone wearing business attire to watch a performance

MC: Are you touched? To watch your performance, I didn’t even have the time to change my clothes.

Shaw: A little. Hope you can continue in your efforts the next time.

Phone call: here

#mlqc #mlqc cn #mlqc spoilers #mlqc shaw #there's a reason why shaw once overthrew gavin's top spot in my heart hnghgnhg #charismatic little brat

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perksofbeingaharrie · 5 years ago

Text

PICTURE THIS - part: 4

FRIENDS TO LOVERS FIC

Lesson learnt for life - ‘Shri, never post a fic unless you’ve completed written ALL of it’

Welp, I am really not the best at being punctual. My writer’s block can be absolute brutal IM SO SO SORRY YOU GUYS.

So idk if people remember this story now so here's little recap:

RECAP: Y/N is Harry’s tour photographer and through this they become close and develop a strong friendship. But when you are spending every second of your day with someone, feelings are bound to occur. As the American leg of his tour comes to an end, a little tussle here and there leads to Harry admitting his feelings for her and them getting a little tipsy and ending up spending a night together.

Now the morning after is not the most pleasant and expectant for them. Find out in Part - 4!

Genre: angst

PICTURE THIS - part:4

---

The morning after is never the easiest. And they knew and had fathomed so the moment Harry’s alarm blared out loud at 8 in the morning.

Harry was careful to have turned it off the second it made a sound and he turns around on his bed, hoping to sleep beside her a little longer. A little longer before both of them would dread and regret it – but mostly her.

But to his much dismay, when he turns over, she has sat up and thrown her feet down the bed on her side, giving him her back as the first view of the morning since yesterday night.

“Y/N.” He calls out, not realizing it, and later feels that his calling happened to have alarmed her even more.

She hurriedly snatches the top of the sheets and dashes for the bathroom, grabbing her clothes on the way. Harry falls back on the bed, defeated and closes his eyes shut to process everything from the night before.

What a disaster it was to bring to their friendship.

With the same lingering thought in her head, she changed into her clothes and came out of the bathroom.

Harry is already outside waiting for her, clad in only his boxers and he immediately jumps to his feet on seeing her.

“Y/N…”

“Last night…” She begins.

“I meant it.” He says before she gets to finish her sentence. She looks up at him from the ground, flushed. “I meant everything, I swear.”

Her mouth parts but the loss of words makes her retract back. She feels weak in the knees as she throws the sheet she had carried with her on the ground and takes a deep breath.

“How did we even end up doing that?”

He cringes at her choice of words. “I don’t know.” He shakes his head. “I really don’t. But it means a lot to me-“

“Oh, for god’s sake please stop saying that!” She raises her voice. “It is not making me feel any better, Harry.”

He gulps, looking away. “I am sorry.”

She takes a deep breath, crossing her arms over her chest. “Well, what do we do now?”

“I don’t know.” He says, looking at her again. “I think you take some time to think this over. To go through whatever you felt last night – just think about them again.”

“I-“

“I really thought it would be easy to just be your friend. Just let you go on some occasions, to let you not give me time but – but, I don’t think I can do that.” He breathes. “I don’t want to be just your friend, Y/N. I don’t want to be just a part of your time; I don’t want you to choose anybody else but me; and I don’t want to have to lose you to somebody else.”

Her heart shakes frantically inside her.

“Y/N, I want to be something more to you than just your – your friend.” He finishes, shakily breathing himself. “And I won’t put you through any pressure. You can think over this, I swear. As much time as you want, as many days as you’d like – all my time is yours now. I promise.”

She looks away from him, not ready to absorb all that he has said. Why is there a hesitation now? Why can she not speak up at all? Where is her resolved mind on this?

“We have a flight to catch.” She finally says. “I’ll see you there.”

She left the room right after.

Harry shed some meaningless tears thereafter, not sure what was it that was making him cry so much as he stood under the shower, reliving the night. He packed his luggage then and he also packed her purse she had left behind in the check-in luggage, clearly with no resolve to return it to her soon.

He cannot believe he said everything to her. He places his hand on his heart now and then, feeling it beating for real and comes to it that it really was no dream.

He really meant everything he said, everything he did. He has never experienced this panic and anxiety in a long time as he had when he saw her be so cold and not feel comfortable with him. Why was this discomfort? Was it because of the line they had drawn on their relationship? Of just being friends?

He thought of their life if they weren’t just friends but something more. Though the thought of always having her around and them being together always felt a little obsessive in a way but he did not ever want her compromising and being with someone else.

When they were seated in the airplane after a lot of running around and checking in, their eyes met when she was walking past his seat to the hers.

They locked eyes but she spoke nothing with them either. She appeared shaky and confused and she rushed past, and in that moment, another thought occurred to him.

What if she did not feel the same way as him? What if the amount of happiness and love she has shown and given him, he hasn’t been able to give her the same? He thought of the other people she could be with and if they would give her happiness she truly deserves and he undermines his ability to give her the same.

The sullen thoughts keep him up the entire flight. He does not turn around to look out for her; he does not get up even once thinking he might crash into her and shake her resolve – which could also be to not be with him.

And he accepted how things were until she would herself want to come around.

She extends her legs up to where her seats allow, breathing out loud as if she has been tired for so long. She hasn’t let her mind think over too much – all she did was pack her stuff in, rush over to the airport with the others and check in as soon as she could and be home.

But now in the dim lights of her the airplane, she feels her mind kick back in all that happened to her. And not just memories of last night and this morning but all and everything that her life has been this past few months.

Meeting Harry, spending that one night together just getting to know each other, becoming friends without the spell of that uncomfortable confrontation, The entire tour, private photoshoots, cooking for each other, drinking, laughing and finally yesterday.

If only he could have straight away asked her what she felt and not guilt tripped her this way. Why was she even taking time? She has loved him for all this while and now when he is admitting it to her, what in the bloody hell is holding her back?

She bites her lip in the sudden spur of excitement. God, everything he does to her can never not make her feel like electricity sparking through her. Even right now.

In the aftermath of it all, she decides to tell him everything when they off of this flight. They will start afresh and they will start all bright.

“Gahh, I’m done.” Sameera, one of the management faculty and a close friend, sighs beside her as she shuts her laptop down. She had been working on and on since they had departed, going about writing mails and what not and up till now, Y/N had not thought to ask what it was.

“Finally…” Y/N drawls in the same tone as her. Sameera chuckles and puts away her laptop and stretches her legs.

“It’s gonna be hectic once again when we get to London. I can’t really sit straight, can I?” She grunts.

“Why?”

“Ah, just management stuff, man. There is never just one thing I am dealing with – it all just comes plummeting down.”

Y/N gives a pat to her shoulder. “You’ll be fine, babe. And let me know if I can help with anything. I would, I swear I would.”

Sameera gladly smiles and places her head on her shoulder. Then she opens her laptop and begins to work again. Y/N reads over certain words looking over her head and her curiosity perks up.

“Can I ask you what the assignment is on?”

Mindlessly, Sameera answers back, too indulged in her work. “We’re hooking Harry up with a name. You know, pretend to be involved and stuff. It helps keep the tour in the news and of course, Harry’s name too.”

“Hooking him up?”

“Yeah, like fake dating. But Harry does meet them up and many a times he’s liked them and been with them too for a while.”

Y/N’s silence makes Sameera explain a bit more.

“It’s just PR stunting. It’s been a part of the cycle for some time now. Harry’s okay with it too now I think. He meets them, likes them so hangs out with them or dislikes them and we try to shake off the rumour within a month or two. It’s just how it is.”

There is no more information shared. Sameera is on her work for some time and then she naps away the rest of the flight.

Y/N stays up, too shaken by the reality thrashing her in the face. She was taking chances by betting to be with a star – someone always in the limelight, always living for the limelight. She doubts if she will be able to hold up amidst all this glamour; and hurting one another is the last thing she would want to happen.

She closes her eyes and waits for this time to pass too.

It was close to almost a week since they had returned. The concerts scheduled thereafter were in two days from today and things were very hectic.

She was called in throughout rehearsals and back stage shooting. She would do her work and leave.

He would come over and do his part. He, however, would leave with a longing heart.

It wasn’t easy at all to ignore him. They would end up speaking a few words here and there but the silence that filled right after was impossible to be shaken. The walls that she had begun to build around herself to protect both him and her were starting to bother Harry more than he could imagine.

She saw him shrink more and more into himself and she only hoped he would understand her without having to say anything.

But, he finally loses patience and calls her up today.

When she reaches his place after the call, she is only carrying her camera bag and nothing more, and she rings the bell.

“Come in.” He tells her at the door, walking into his house and leaving her outside.

She closes the door on our way and follows behind him, entering the balcony.

“Let’s get started.” He purses his lips, clasping his hands together.

She nods, placing her camera on the nearby table to her. Sighing, she looks up at him.

“Why are we doing this again?”

He chuckles, humourless. “We always did this – informal photoshoots. Just you, me and you camera.” He throws him arms exaggeratedly towards her camera.

She hesitates, breathing shakily. “No, I meant…why now?” Beginning to unpack her stuff, she continues. “You have your show in like 2 days, why get into this hassle now?”

She watches as he turns his back on her and stretches, all out of restlessness. She gulps and decided to shut up.

“Okay, I am ready-“

His chuckle again makes her stop. “Funny how things we previously did for fun now seem like a hassle, do they now?”

He stands by the railing of the balcony, leaning on it with his arms spread to his sides and gives her a sad look. She cannot say a word to him and only looks him in the eyes with the same look as his.

He takes his eyes off immediately and breaks the tension.

“Let’s get started.”

The shoot is simple. He is in a soft cotton shirt with a few unbuttoned buttons on the top and bottom, and the light wind in the balcony flows around the light material, matching the lost, dewy look of the shoot.

She keeps on going clicking pictures. He almost would always tell her when to stop but today he doesn’t. He lets her keep doing her job as much as she can, telling him to pose, to look somewhere else and everything. She has no clue to how ask him if he is done.

The sun sets in the background. The natural light that they had depended on now turns to dark and this makes the perfect excuse for her to step back.

“Guess we are done.” She says, pulling her camera to herself to preview.

“No.” Harry ascertains, making her look up once again at his somber tone. “Try with the flash this time.”

She gulps, letting out a dry chuckle, tired with the brutal behavior of his.

“Harry, please.” Her voice is low and tired. “Let’s stop.”

His fists ball at his sides. He feels all the pent-up emotion, the remorse, the pain come back to him and he takes two long steps towards her to now stand right with just an inch of a distance between their noses.

“Stop what?” He grits through his teeth. “Stop even being friends? Even talking and being as we were? Why?”

She steps back one, shaky with the proximity. Her mouth opens to speak but he cuts her to it.

“Scratch that. I want my answer. I want to know what do you want from this and what it meant for you to be in my arms that night, kissing me, touching-“

“Harry!” She cries. Her face softens as their eyes meet – his rage and angst all making her heart pound.

She turns on her heel and scurries back inside the house, picking her camera bag from the floor.

He is trailing right behind her. “Y/N –“

“I just don’t want to hurt any one of us.” She turns around to face him again, putting a little distance between the two of them.

“And what about this? Is this not testing enough?!” He cries back at her.

“Harry-“

“Okay, no, no, wait.” He walks over to her. “You told me you love me that day. You told me you love me – didn’t you?”

She closes her eyes, nodding. “I do, I love you so, so much.”

He cracks a half grin. “Then what is it? I love you too, so much. More than you can imagine.”

“You don’t get it.” Shaking her head, she continues. “We are so much less involved in each other’s life when we are friends. You realize being together would complicate it all so, so much.”

“What is the complication for? It is all in your head.”

“Harry!” She puts him down with one raise of her voice. “Please. Understand this; you live in this bubble around all the glam and you have things to do that you are bound to – there is no way you can avoid them.” She pauses. “I am a simple girl. All I seek is small things, sought out things – simple things.”

He shuts up then. His voice holds no longer the desperate tone. He is confused, severely at that, and now all he wants is answers.

“What is it about my life? You’ve been with me for the entire tour, Y/N. I don’t think I did anything for you to feel that my life could be any complicated -“

“Harry, I was with you but always from a distance. You have your commitments, your duties as an artist that you’ve got to fill –“

“You’re going round in circles, saying the same thing over and over again, Y/N.” He cries out.

She takes a deep breath and squares up to spill the truth. “I do not understand this whole thing about going from dating one person to another.”

His eyes squint in surprise. “What-“

“Yes, you’ll have to be with multiple people at times, all through the year and you’ve done that in the past too-“

“Have you ever tried to understand this whole thing or are you just making assumptions –“

“It is the truth, Harry, and that is what gets to me every time I think –“

“Will you let me explain what this whole thing is and how it goes or –“

“No, Harry!” She shouts this time. “This is how you guys are. You go around jumping from one person to date to another – what would you do with being with a commoner? What good would she do to you? Will you get the same kind of promotions, be in the same way in the news, will remain as popular as ever?”

He opens and closes his mouth, her words hitting like spikes to his heart.

“Okay, okay.” She takes a breath out, calming. “Just give it a thought, you know – think a bit logically and realistically. You will need to think about your career at the end of the day. I get it, I get it, there is feelings and all but if we do get together, neither of us would be happy because – because our professional lives and image would keep clashing and –“

Both of them know she is blabbering like a mess now.

He takes a step back from her, rubbing his hands over his face. “Yeah, yeah –“

“You understand me, right? You get it too.” She tries to look him in the eyes.

“Yeah!” He says to loudly and quickly. “I get it. Absolutely. Perfectly.”

They both takes long breaths and look at one another. Their eyes blood shot red, and their faces show the tiredness and hopelessness. They both know this is in no way sought out.

Finally, with the same expressions on his face, he tells her, “Now, get out.”

She feels an invisible force push her steps back to the door. She accepts the defeat and the end and she nods.

“Trust me, this is for the best, Harry.”

---

Hope everyone’s keeping well and being safe. My wishes and love to you all.

Look forward to part:5 coming soon and show some love to this write up too!

Thank you for the love and support!

Big looove

- Shri <3

MASTERLIST O PART1 O PART2 O PART3

#harry styles #harry #styles #harry styles fic #friends to lovers fic #fic writing #harry styles writing #angst #harry styles angst #harry styles imagines #imagines #friends to lovers writing

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blakescoven · 5 years ago

Text

Undress Rehearsal (Duncan Shepherd x fem!Reader)

Summary: You got a fashion degree and moved to DC to work as stylist assistant. Unexpectedly you meet a familiar face during a meeting and it seems there’s a spark between you two...but things may take a wrong turn.

A/N: Hey lovelies!! This is my first fic EVER, so be nice! Also, forgive any grammar mistake (English isn’t my first language). Since the ending is kinda open, I guess I could write a PART 2. I’m so happy to finally be able to post this one-shot, even though it sucks! I’d appreciate every comment/reblog/DM about it and about how I could actually improve my writing. This is a sort of experiment! I’m still trying to figure out “my style”. Oh and this is important: bold type means flashback, italics are Y/N’s thoughts and // means a few days passed! ENJOY and thank you for reading! I love you.

Warnings: mean!Duncan (just a little), making out and veeery light NSFW, plot!twist, lol I think that’s enough(?)

Word count: 6.1K

moodboard by the talented @hecohansen31

You were late again. It happened twice this week. But how could that happen? You had always been a punctual and reliable person, at night you ensured that the alarm was correctly set and you never went to bed too late, afraid to not being able to wake up the morning after. So how could it be possible? Maybe because of your jetlag, but after almost a month, well, this had become a really bad excuse. Then perhaps, the frenetic pace was already affecting you that much, making you too tired to hurry up and get ready. This couldn’t happen again; you were jeopardizing your new dream job because of this straggler behavior. While you were running along the streets of Washington DC, those were your recurring thoughts. Your wheezing and the speeded-up heartbeats, pounding in your hears, were drowning out any deafening noise coming from cars and traffic, which always filled the city driveways.

From the early hours of the day, the avenues were swarming with people going to their office, each of them withdrawn into oneself, busy minding their own business with their smartphones, bringing takeaway breakfast on the other hand. You were way too anxious and distracted from running breathlessly; you had already bumped into three stupid human beings, slowly strolling down the sidewalk like damn sloths. Every single step was followed by a quick glance at your cellphone screen, checking the time and ensuring there was no missed call of your boss.

If you knew anything in this world, it was that you had to take this job seriously, dealing with the fact that your exhausting dues would have allowed your eager ass to work your way up and finally become a fashion designer. So, you didn’t expect any great satisfaction to come very soon. And starting from the bottom was really tough. After years of studying and a well-deserved university degree, you were prepared for whatever the future might have brought. Despite that, you didn’t expect at all to end up in DC, working as a stylist assistant. Sure, this would have opened the door to your real dream job, be part of the style department, designing collections for a luxury brand. You had tried your luck moving to New York, but you ended up broke, with no savings left and no available job opening. For this reason, you decided to take that chance here. You hadn’t made any progress till now though. You were new, yes, but your tasks and assignments were hardly restricted to bring coffee or running around the Capital with tons of garment bags for upcoming fittings.

Finally, after that insane 3km rush, without even stopping for a second - no, you couldn’t afford an Uber ride every time -, you arrived. Your feet hurt like hell, your cheeks covered with scarlet shades like the worst of sunburns and your breath coming in short gasps…and your hair, oh dear Lord, it was a mess. You were sure you were also sweating. Luckily, Richard, your boss, was quite nice to you and somewhat tolerant; he was sincerely impressed by all your efforts, skills and abilities, so much that he wasn’t utterly certain what you were doing there.

Five minutes past the established hour and, thank God, the client hadn’t arrived yet. You didn’t have much information or details about that meeting. You only knew that you had to help during a fitting for a client, extremely influential on the political scene. He needed a few new looks and outfits for public appearances, interviews, and fundraising events. Of course, you assumed he would have been an old middle-aged white man, with too much money to count and eager for power.

Mr moneybags is getting late tho. Too busy making grands? you thought.

Meanwhile, you were trying to look more presentable, also to not risk damaging the brand reputation.

“Y/N?”

Your calves burned and, in that moment, you thought that bringing extra sneakers would have been a good idea.

“Y/N?!”

Since the client hadn’t arrived yet, maybe you could sit down and rest for a minute on that super comfy booth near the mirror…

“Y/N!!!! HELLOO!!!” Your train of thoughts was abruptly interrupted by your boss’ yells, which suddenly caught your attention.

“Oh my God, I’m sorry, I zoned out! Forgive me, what can I do for you?”

The man, a healthy and elegant 40ish brunette, looked at you concerned “Y/N I know it’s hard to settle down, but I need you to be 100% focused today. The man who’s coming is a big deal for us, he’s a powerful figure in Washington politics! He has recently taken her mother’s place as CEO of the family company. So, I want us to make a good impression!” after saying that, he looked at you from head to toe, a bit baffled.

“So…” he continued “…I need you to – in that moment you really hoped you were about to receive a major task, finally a turning point – ..to run to the bar across the street and buy some coffee, and come back quickly!” All your expectations fell apart in a sea of disappointment. “Hurry up!”

You put on a forced smile and went straight to the exit.

After having waited in line for centuries, you figured that probably the client had to have arrived, and therefore, just as you had started your day, you came back running as fast as you could, to save time.

You were holding the coffee cups in your left hand, while you were struggling to turn off your phone, which had started ringing. Opening the glass door with your hip, you were still trying to silence the ringtone, this, without even minding where put your feet up. Ugh, mom, stop calling me...always the worst timing! you screamed in your own mind, frowning. Before you could slow down your steps, one of your heels didn’t grip well the lacquered floor, making you stumble and trip. A sudden change in your balance and you couldn’t avoid slipping forward, causing the not-so-angelic flying of coffee directly on the special guest of the situation.

Damn it.

And to make matters worse, you fell to the ground, cursing the day you were born. Hell no, it can’t have really happened to me. You had just made a complete ass of yourself. You would have rather sink below the waves into the oblivion.

“OH SHIT SHIT SHIT I-I’m so sorry! I-I don’t know h-how it happened!” you were apologizing, still keeping your eyes fixed on the once-full cups rolling down the parquet, next to your badly chipped mobile touchscreen.

“The floor must be slippery…please let me make it up to you, I ca- ” you stopped all of a sudden when you lifted your gaze, for the first time since you had stepped in. Standing in front of you there was the most attractive man you’d ever seen. His piercing blue eyes were fixed on you, like two burning flames almost forming deep holes in your soul.

It’s hot in here or it’s just me?

He was tall and his toned arms were easily visible through the once-white shirt. Now that expensive fashion piece was all covered by a huge stain of hot coffee. And it was your fault. You were speechless. Your attention all focused on the man’s features. Your gaze was busy running down those perfect shaped cheekbones and the sharp jawline. Oh boy, gods’ gift indeed.

Oddly familiar to you though.

You clearly remained to stare for too long to not be noticed, because the man himself broke the silence.

“Uhm, don’t worry” he seemed taken aback for a second “I’ll send it to the cleaners or I’ll throw it away, I don’t care” he said, immediately composing himself, while carefully unbuttoning the ruined shirt, with those long fingers... You were blushing. His low soothing voice sent shivers down your spine. But his tone was plain, no apparent emotion, he seemed almost indifferent, maybe even a little annoyed. Ah, pompous ass.

Your attention was caught by your boss, who, with a worried voice, while pinching the bridge of his nose with his eyes closed, proposed him to choose another shirt among the others and take it as an apology gift. The man accepted, nodding with a crooked smile and with smug remarks about the needlessness of gifts for a man as rich as him.

Cocky asshole! You mused, with a roll of her eyes.

Anxious to change the subject, Richard, started the introductions. “Mr Shepherd, she is my smart – but clearly clumsy – assistant, Y/N” at that very moment that name awoke the memories in your mind.

No. It can’t be true.

“Well, nice to meet you” he remarked “Y/N”, repeating your name like he was tasting it on his own tongue “..or so.” he added, with a stupid smug grin on his breathtaking face. When they shook hands, you felt a sort of jolt and realized you had been holding your breath all this time. You remained silent.

That was the same man you met 6 months ago on the flight you took to go to New York, when you moved for the first time. It was him the influential man of the meeting.

Duncan-fucking-Shepherd.

Duncan. This name was the only thing in your mind right now, while you were lying on the couch, in your little apartment, with a glass of wine loosely resting on your lower lip. Oh my God, did he recognize me? Did he figure out it was me? How had he called me that day? Oh, his angel, right. Fuck.

Your head hurt, but you couldn’t help but keep on repeat your two first meetings again and again in your mind. The Duncan Shepherd from today was completely different, compared to the man you had encountered on that plane.

He hadn’t talked about himself very much, just spilled that he was a businessman traveling for work. You had immediately noticed how mature he was to be in his late 20ish. And incredibly handsome. And charming. And seductive.

Ok, stop.

You still couldn’t understand why you. Among all the attractive available women he could easily have, during all the time of the flight, he had been flirting with you. You. He made you feel sexy, desirable and safe, after a very long time.

It was the first class. You were there because of a lucky misunderstanding. While the plane was taking off, you two had a moment, since he saw you panicking. You had started talking for real only two hours after having left Milan. The conversation started casually, then developed into a flirty game. Little did you knew that a few hours later, you would eventually find yourselves making out so much intensely, whilst the rest of the passengers was sleeping with lights off. This wasn’t like you; you were strangers after all. Damn, you only knew his first name. But you couldn’t help your crazy attraction towards him. A sort of electricity, a particular connection that you had never felt with anybody else in your life.

You were staring off into space, completely lost in your inner thoughts, while biting hard your lip and fidgeting with the hem of your oversize t-shirt. You nervously swallowed and closed your eyes. Your hand began to move from the fabric and wander over your bare legs, brushing them with your fingertips. Throwing back your head and swallowing again, you frowned and sighed. You couldn’t make those thoughts disappear. He got under your skin and no matter what you did, you couldn’t shake him.

His soft lips on yours, hot and peachy, the trailing of his wet open-mouthed kisses along your throat and the series of marks he was leaving on your skin, on the way down your collarbone. Feeling the smile of the other against your lips as you two kissed. The best feeling in the world. His small moans when you had pulled his lower lips between your teeth, while his hands were touching and roaming all over your body, as if he wanted to memorize each spot, each curve, each part of you. “Baby I wish it was just the two of us right now, damn, I want you so badly” he whispered. God, if they had been alone, you’d have gone further for sure. You were both turned on, you could tell, especially from the prominent bulge on his designer pants. All you wanted was to climb on top of him, straddling his hips, panting in his hear and feel his hot breath all over you. Intense was the craving to undress him, feel his skin against yours. Shit, it was like a living a dream.

The meeting had been canceled and rescheduled for tomorrow. The situation was quite unpleasant. What you were supposed to do now?

Judgment Day had come. You hadn’t slept at all, all night spent tossing and turning between the sheets and looking at the ceiling. How were you supposed to act now? Should you have mentioned anything? What was really killing you, was the feeling that ‘your moment’ had meant nothing for him. Yes, after 6 months, you had gone over it, also because you had no idea how to contact him. But after seeing him again, all the buried thrills came rushing back. You absolutely needed to test the waters today. What did you have to lose? Well, your dignity maybe. If he wanted to, Duncan could have easily said something. And of course, a man of his status could have anything, or anybody, he wanted. Maybe you were overthinking, maybe not.

Since it was almost dawn, and the sun was peeking through the blinds, creating a delicate play of lights and shadows on the curtains, you decided you could actually distract yourself choosing what to wear for the meeting. You shouldn’t have done it. Your bedroom had become a battlefield, all your clothes scattered all over it, like some lifeless leftovers of the closet, now empty. Almost like a little bomb went off. You kept trying combinations on combinations, each time taking off the pieces and throwing them away anywhere around you, as if you were on the verge of a breakdown. It was still a business meeting; you couldn’t dress up too revealing or doll up too much. But at the same time, you’d never give up on being yourself and express your personality through what you wore. Respecting yourself was the most important thing. Self-love. However, this didn’t solve the problem at all. You wanted to appear at your best, challenge him, in a subtle way.

On your way to the office, an unexpected call tuned you away from your own thoughts.

“Richard! Good morning! Are you calling me for coffee? Because I’ve already stopped off at the bar, now tell me who is the best assistant in the whole world?! And I’m not even late!” your smile vanished as soon as your boss answered.

“WHAT?! What does it mean you won’t be there today?” Your heart skipped a beat and started pumping so much blood through your veins, that you felt as a heatwave was rushing inside of you. “W-well if you have family issues, we agree that it’s necessary to postpone the gathering..I-” your eyes widened at the realization that you’d be alone. With Duncan.

You almost fainted on the spot.

“I’m sure you can handle it on your own! You can still reach me with a phone call, if you ever need me. Plus, don’t you think this would be the right chance to prove yourself and finally level up, get noticed and considered for that vacant position in the style & design dep.? My money’s on you, girl!”

How could you blame him, though? He was always so encouraging.

You sighed through the phone, so he added “Look, it won’t be hard. Remember that Mr Shepherd is in your hands. We have to turn him into one of the brand advocates; he’s young, a self-made man, the best choice to promote the brand awareness. It’s up to you now.”

Wow, that’s very reassuring you figured, shaking your head.

“Ok, you can do this, I have to go now, let me know how it goes. Bye!” Fuck.

“W-wait! I can’t do that withou-” he has already hung up. Looking up to the sky and letting out a frustrating grunt, you allowed yourself a childish whine and mumbled a ‘why me’.

Now you were standing outside the building, trying to collect yourself before entering. You were wearing an oversized see-through blouse, tucked in a black knee-length skirt, and an *accent color* blazer with rolled-up sleeves, to complete the look. You were ready to fight. No more clumsy bullshit.

Breathe, remember to breathe you reminded yourself, looking at the elevator door.

You strode next to the receptionist’s desk, Tiffany, or, as you liked to call her, ‘Crazypants’; since her eyes were always so disturbingly wide open – Does she ever blink? – and her hair painfully pinned back, so tight that must have hurt her. She seemed a cross between a barbie and a psycho killer. As soon as you walked by her desk, Crazypants greeted you overly excited, calling you with her earsplitting high-pitched voice. You put on your fakest smile and replied,

“Morning Tiff, uhm, I wish I could stay and chat, but I have work to-”

“The client is already here. He’s waiting for you in the fitting room” she winked. Hell, you hoped your blushing wasn’t so obvious, you couldn’t even have a few minutes to be psychologically prepared. Well, maybe better pull off the band-aid.

“Thank you for warning me! I’ll be right there” you answered. Not even before your exams you felt all this pressure.

Why is it always so hot?!

Walking along the hallway as if you were going to your own execution, you found yourself in front of the door of the rehearsal room. You gently opened it and entered. Do you know when, at some point in movies, there’s a slow-motion moment with background music?! There it was. Precisely. He had his back turned, gazing the skyline through the glass wall. And the second he heard the clicking of a pair of heels, he turned his head, smiling at you and looking intensely at your figure. You were about to die for real now.

How could someone be so beautiful?

His hair perfectly styled, his hot stubble,... Oh, that stubble was your weakness. You could already feel it between your legs and…

“Hey hey, easy with that” he teased with his deep honeyed voice, pointing the take-out coffee cups you were holding. You winced and giggled

“I’ll never stop apologizing about that, ehm, incident…but if you want one, go ahead!”

You looked at each other smiling for a while, until you had to break the silence and eventually get down to business. “So, I guess it’s better if we start…Mr Shepherd, so then you’ll be free to go back to work”, he exhaled and nodded

“Oh please, just call me Duncan.”

You saw a sort of shift in his features. His face went blank. He adopted a bossier and intimidating position, like last time. Ok, maybe he just wants to keep it professional, I understand.

“When is Richard coming?” he questioned while taking his trench coat off. “To be honest, it’ll just be me today, but it’s all right, you’re in good hands” you slightly smiled. He sighed again and you rose your eyebrow, taking it as an unspoken insult.

“Is there a problem?”

“Well, yes, I didn’t come here to waste my time with a newbie assistant.” Your jaw dropped.

“Excuse me?”

“No need to get upset darling, this is what you are, after all” he stated shrugging. You were speechless; yes, you were an assistant, but the way he said that, as if you were a dumb zero…What an asshole.

“Oookay, since I’m here..let’s continue” he glanced at you, waiting for her next move. “I agree, you can change in the wa-” you paused; he was literally undressing in front of you.

“What? There’s nothing you’ve never seen...I guess” You were confused…was he teasing you or something? “You should be more professional, I’m saying it for you”, your rage slowly increasing and flowing throughout your entire body. He was a completely different man, with all those unnecessary mean remarks. He gave you mixed feelings. You would have punched him, but at the same time, contemplating his perfectly-shaped heavenly body, his toned muscles, his thighs..you wanted to jump on him, kiss him and be his, in every way possible.

“You’re staring.”

“W-what?! No. I’m waiting for you to finish undressing, so I can give you the first change to wear..”

“Sure.”

You’d already had enough of his attitude. “I suggest starting with this evening suit, since Richard told me you’ll attend a charity gala in a few days.”

“Hush, please, save it. I don’t need all your pointless suggestions. I can handle it by myself.” he seemed almost..angry? You didn’t know how to hit back anymore. Why was he acting like that, all of a sudden? He tried on a few different outfits while you were staying there, silent, shifting your weight from a leg to another, your eyes wandering through the room, your lips pressed into a thin line and your mind trying to figure out what was happening. Duncan, noticing the tapping of your fingers on your thigh, rolled his eyes and gave you an annoyed look.

Then he huffed “Impatient, uh?”

You were hovering on the brink of an outburst.

“Why don’t you do your job and bring me some water, or take notes, or whatever you get paid for?”

“My job is helping you find a set of appropriate clothes for various occasions, trying to create the right mix & match that suits your taste and personality...” you retorted in a plain tone.

“Oh, thanks for the not required explanation, Wikipedia..”

“..but I’m not stupid, I know what a fucking stylist does” he was pushing your buttons.

“If you’d allow me to do my job, instead of questioning me, I could recommend something..”

“No need to whine, baby girl…So do it, instead of staying there like a scared little girl.”

“If relying on someone to select your wardrobe really bothers you..why don’t you choose them by yourself?” you sassed, struggling to remain polite.

“Well, I’ve demanded the help of a professional, not that of a ‘coffee-bringer’…and I’m wasting my time here”.

Ok, that’s enough.

He was still a client, but for you being treated like that wasn’t acceptable anymore. “You know what? I don’t fucking care if I get fired after saying these words. But I’m done with your dumbass comments. You’re a douchebag. I’m trying to do my job and, just because you’re rich and influential, you think you can treat me like that. Like I’m trash?” you were finally giving in to an outburst “The saddest thing is that I really hoped you would remember me. About that moment we shared 6 months ago, on that flight to New York. But obviously, I’ve given it much thought. Turns out that I’m just one of many, aren’t I? I’ve been thinking about you for weeks and when I saw you again, it all came flooding back. I’m so stupid. It’s not your fault, I was wrong to think that day could have really meant something.”

While talking, you were struggling to hold back the tears, you weren’t supposed to look pathetic, but your eyes were already watering. “So, do me a favor: end this meeting now. I’ll call Richard and tell him to take care of you, since you do not believe I’m capable enough to fulfill your needs..”

“..oh and don’t worry about seeing me again, I don’t want anything to do with you! Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got work to do.” you spat, entering the small wardrobe room, without bothering to switch on the light, hoping that your angry tears would have remained unnoticed in the darkness and that Duncan would have gone for good. So you started moving crutches on the clothes stand, to make room for those outfits to restock over.

Unexpectedly you felt an arm around your waist, holding you tightly. It was Duncan. He hadn’t left.

His body pressed against yours, you were paralyzed, his arms keeping a firm grip on you. What’s happening? You knew you should have pushed him back and kick him out, but something inside you decided against it. It was like a part of your dumb heart wanted to stay still in that position forever. You two remained silent, until he whispered in your hear, with his hot breath and his cologne filling your nostrils - a mixture of cinnamon, sandalwood and tobacco.

“I’m sorry..” he sighed. He sounded sincere.

“..I went too far.”

Now your own hands were resting upon his arms. You could feel the heat his body was radiating right now. With a honeyed soft tone, he murmured “Please forgive me, I don’t know what came over me. It’s just that having you standing here again, in front of me, stunned me. I didn’t know what to do and I misunderstood your demeanor. I thought you were pretending nothing had happened, or that you didn’t recall that day, or that you simply didn’t care.”

His hold slowly loosened, allowing you to turn around and look at him with narrowed eyes and a puzzled expression, without a word.

“Uhm, I’m not very good at communicating my emotions, but you’re right. I’ve been a dick. You didn’t deserve it, but I was overwhelmed by the attempt to suppress my own feelings. Since I saw you again,”

he paused,

“you are all I can think about.” he admitted, stroking your tear-stained cheek with his thumb, but you tried to resist him,

“I hope you’re not trying to play me, because otherwise I’ll smash that stupid hot smirk to the ground.”

“So do you think I’m hot, uh?!”

“You dumbass.”

“God, you’re so damn sexy when you’re mad.” he teased, coming closer.

“What?” you giggled. He stared at your lips “I just can’t stop thinking about kissing you right now…” and unexpectedly, his hand drifted to your hip, pulling you even closer. You inhaled deeply. You were against his warm chest, sculpted to perfection. Why must he be so perfect? You placed your hand against it, intending to push him away, but instead you left it there. You froze, from both fear and excitement.

You two stared into each other’s eyes and his breathing quickened as did yours. He slowly leaned in, so his forehead rested against yours. You closed your eyes. Your faces were inches apart now, and he lightly traced your lips with one finger. His other hand placed behind your neck, shortening the distance even more.

Your noses bumped and your mouths matched up slightly-opened, breathing each other’s air directly. He brushed his lips against yours and you freaking loved it. You loved the way your body melted into his. The way your lips perfectly fitted like two puzzle pieces. The way Duncan held you tighter and tighter. It sent shivers down your back. His only desire was to touch you, to move his hands under your layers and feel your smooth skin.

You two broke the kiss for a second to catch your breath. Then he pulled you in, claiming your mouth again, hungry and intense. Duncan lowered his hands down your hips, cupping your ass and dragging you impossibly close. You deepened the kiss swallowing his groan of pleasure as you lost into each other, no space between you two. His hands were exploring your body, while you grabbed his hair tightly to restrain your own moans.

Slowly, you started exploring each other’s mouths with your tongues. Sometimes sucking his lower lip and biting it a little bit. He started kissing your jaw and leaving hickeys on your neck. He didn’t want to let you go, so he pulled you again and kissed you so hard, with much more intensity. He squeezed you, suggesting that he wasn’t going to stop. You didn’t mind at all and continued making out.

He slowly put his hands under your blouse, trying to reach and unhook your bra, eager to run his fingers along your breasts and rub it. You began unbuttoning his button-down, seductively leaving wet kisses and love bites on his chest. He moaned. Then Duncan raised your blouse and took it off completely, so he could see you.

“You’re beautiful” he purred, and started massaging your chest and kissing it hardly, licking and biting gently your nipple. While Duncan was playing with your body, you could only keep on tugging his hair, making his moans vibrate against your body. Then he kneeled down kissing your stomach.

Both of you couldn’t silent your groans anymore, the entire room was filled by sexual noises. But you didn’t care at all. You knew where it was going. Duncan pushed you against a wall, grinding on you and you could clearly feel his hardness pressed against your body. You needed more friction.

“Jump.” he suddenly hinted, and used his veiny arms to hold you up by your thighs lifting you off the ground. You wrapped your legs around his waist. Your core was throbbing at that very moment.

But you were brought back to planet Earth right after; that divine feeling was ruined by a pesky thought that clouded your mind.

What if he’s just interested in sex?

He sensed your sudden slowing down. “If you want me to stop, tell me now,” he whispered. When you remained silent, he brushed his mouth against your temple,

“Or now.”

he followed the line of your cheekbone,

“Or now.”

now he was kissing your chin,

“Or—”

then your lips were against his, again. You kept undressing slowly, savoring the moment.

But that damn thought came back, stuck in your mind. And eventually it hit you. “Wait…wait” you said, trying to steady your breathing.

“What’s wrong angel? I did something wrong or..” he questioned worriedly. “No, not at all, it was perfect..but I don’t think this is right.”

“Wait what?! Why?” Duncan replied in disbelief.

“I’m not a yes girl, Duncan. I’m not looking for casual hookups, I really want to know you better and see where this leads us.” you smiled reassuringly, caressing his cheek. You were scared as fuck. Maybe he wasn’t interested in any kind of relationship, just random booty calls. But you had to take the risk. You wanted to.

“Uhm..yeah. I guess that sounds fair enough.” he chuckled and you released the breath you didn’t know you were holding. “How about a coffee date? I know a place, it’s quite secluded, to not attract the attention of press and journalists” you tilted your head and frowned,

“What do you mean?”

“Angel, I don’t want you to be targeted by newspapers, they aim to find some dirt on me and make every aspect of my private life public. I prefer keeping a low profile, and put you in an uncomfortable position is the last thing I would want.” “Oh, ok. I got it.” you were a little thoughtful, to be honest. But in that moment, you would have agreed with everything he was saying. You used every inch of strength you had, to stop and not go further. Not that there was anything wrong with that. You just wished to learn more about that handsome man in front of you; his desires, his passions, his values and aspirations.

“I’d better get back to work, they’ll wonder what happened to me.” he smirked. “Yeah, you better hurry up, then” you laughed, while putting your blouse on. “I’m gonna put aside the chosen clothes” you informed, but before you could leave the cramped room, he grabbed your hand and pulled you back in his arms, giving a last soft peck on your lips.

“How can I focus now, with the thought of you against me?!”

“You’ll have to make do with the memory..” you shot back “..for now.” you cooed, whispering in his hear.

The rest of the day went off without a hitch. You had exchanged numbers and with all those texts you were sending to each other, you felt like a schoolgirl again. Nothing could have ruined that sensation. Before going back home, Richard called you, questioning you about the meeting, not noticing your struggle to not make disconnected sentences or beat around the bush, to hide your embarrassment. Then, to thank you for having his back, he gave you another assignment: a high-society lady had requested a selection of gowns to choose, to attend a few fundraising events. Another important add-on for your CV. A few more efforts and they would have finally offered you the long-awaited position in the creative team.

The consultation had been set up two days later, you had to go to the customer’s penthouse this time. Ugh, lazy rich people. You rang the doorbell and right after you were greeted by a thin blonde girl, all fake boobs and tinted tips, wearing a dress that seemed closer to a long top, rather than an actual dress.

“Hey, you must be Y/N! Come in! I’ll be right back” she yelled. You came in holding the garment bag; you were shocked when you found out how actually big the apartment was: super modern, black & white themed and with some art hanging on the walls.

Uhm, de gustibus you muttered to yourself.

“Here I am, sorry for the waiting. I am Madison!” Why rich people seem so reluctant to share their last name with me? you mused, smiling to yourself.

“Let’s start, shall we?”

And then Madison took you to what has to be her large bedroom. Odd. That seemed more like a bachelor to you, but judging wasn’t your thing.

The fitting went smooth as silk. This Madison was a bombshell, every single dress fitted her body as it was sewn on her. For the upcoming event she chose a nude silk dress, that perfectly matched her skin tone. She looked pretty excited for the pick, so much that she started screaming and calling out loud, making you aware that there was someone else around.

“Muffin come here!!! I chose the dress!! It’s perfect oh my God! You must see it before I take it off!”

MUFFIN.

Seriously? Do not laugh, please, do not laugh.

You were biting her lip a little too hard. While Madison kept calling her…muffin, you decided to do something and began packing all the stuff back up into the bag.

“Oh finally, you walk so slow, babe…now, look! What do you think?” Before the man could answer she continued “Oh wait, how rude I am. Y/N, this is my fiancé...”

As soon as you turned around and lifted your gaze, your heart stopped beating.

“…Duncan!”

His smile soon disappeared too, replaced by a shocked and guilty expression, like a deer caught in the headlights. You froze in place.

You were trying to hold back the impending flood of tears, washing it away with your anger. A million different feelings rushed through you, but at the same time you couldn’t feel anything, just your own heart, literally breaking down in pieces.

“Do you already know each other?” Madison asked, noting Duncan’s surprise. You gathered all the strength left within you and stated

“Just one of the many customers.”

Then, lowering your broken voice, you sputtered a “Now I really have to go.”

Without saying anything more, you took the garment bag and run straight to the door, shutting it down behind your back. Right after, a teardrop rolled over your cheek, and your eyes started watering. Once that the first tear broke free, the rest followed in an unbroken stream. Before turning into a sobbing mess, you walked fast down the hallway, reaching the elevator and waiting for the doors to open up.

Before you could take another step, a large hand took you by the wrist, keeping you in place. You turned around and instantly pushed him back, trying to free yourself from his grip.

“Please,” he begged,

“Let me explain. Please, I don’t want to lose you! We have something..w-we can talk about it, please, wait!”

“Go to Hell” you snapped;

and then you shoved his hand away, entering the elevator. Stupid. I am so fucking stupid. You two looked at each other one last time, shedding tears. The eyes of both soaking blatantly. And then the doors shut.

That heartbreak felt like concrete drying in your chest.

________________________________________________________________

Tagging: (I hope you don’t mind BUT tell me if you want to be removed, I was just curious to know your opinion about it, if you'd like to read it) MUCH LOVE @ladynuwanda @hecohansen31 @michael-langdon-appreciation @sojournmichael @so-langdon @stupidocupido @sammythankyou @emmyrosee

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sophcaro · 7 years ago

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Destiny | WMatsui - Chapter 29

Jurina took her earphones out as she entered the rehearsal room of the SKE theater, waving at the few members already present. In less than ten minutes, the fifteen girls that composed SKE’s senbatsu were expected to work on their next important event. Indeed, the idol group was supposed to do a mini showcase in Nagoya in two days, the performance being broadcast live on TV for the occasion. Jurina dropped her sports bag in a corner of the room and nonchalantly sat on the floor, her attention caught by the two girls dancing in front of the large mirrors.

Nao Furuhata and Ayuka Kamimura.

While the other members already arrived were chilling out or chatting amongst themselves, those two girls in particular were already hard at work and practicing a few choreographies together. Jurina wasn’t astonished to see them already practicing even before the official beginning of rehearsal. After all, those two girls were anything but random members. At the end of the year 2019, Nao and Ayuka had been appointed as SKE’s current Center and WCenter.

Four months had already passed since that day.

Jurina observed more especially the younger member, noting again how much Ayuka had grown up over the years. At the age of sixteen, Ayuka didn’t have much in common with the insecure and emotive girl she had shared briefly the spotlight with after Rena’s graduation. Now, a certain air of confidence surrounded the newest WCenter, and Ayuka was capable of mastering a choreography faster and better than ever before.

Ayuka was indisputably one of Jurina’s greatest sources of pride.

Jurina couldn’t have been more satisfied with management’s latest decisions. It had assuredly taken many years and a lot of discussions to reach such a stage, but management had eventually opened their eyes and accepted the fact that their long-time strategy – that had worked so well for so many years – now needed to be revised drastically to assure the sustainability of the Nagoya-based group.

At the end of 2019, management had decided – and this for the first time in the history of the group - to rotate SKE’s Center and WCenter on a regular basis. The plan was to change both leading figures every two singles, in order to give more members the opportunity to shine and accustom the fans to less-known faces. With the constant emergence of new 48 and 46 groups, the competition had never been so tough. More than ever, it was primordial to find a way to stand out from the other idol groups.

Jurina was conscious that nothing was set in stone and, if this innovative concept proved to fail in the long run, then management wouldn’t hesitate to reverse back to a permanent Center and WCenter. This new approach was still in its early stages, yet it already showed promise. Ayuka’s tireless determination and all the progress she had accomplished through the years had thankfully been acknowledged. That’s why, when Jurina had urged management to give Ayuka another chance, they agreed to test their new strategy with her.

During the group’s December single of 2019, Ayuka Kamimura was appointed WCenter and Nao Furuhata SKE’s new Center.

Jurina couldn’t deny that a heavy weight had been lifted from her shoulders. During more than ten years, she had been SKE’s faithful ace. She had relished every second of it and the teenager that she was back then would have wanted for nothing in the world to switch her position with another member. She enjoyed leading the group and being in the spotlight. Nothing could have made her prouder than seeing her face displayed on posters and buildings, proclaiming her as SKE’s official representative.

A few weeks ago, she turned twenty-three.

Jurina could feel she had gained a certain maturity: a maturity that was enabling her to see the group’s situation from a brand-new perspective: so many aspects of this business that she couldn’t fully comprehend when she was still a teenager, or even a young adult. Winning the SSK in 2019 had been one of her greatest victories. Witnessing SKE’s management taking the group’s fate seriously and the right measures had been another.

Since 2008, the idol group had gone through so many rough patches. At one point, when Rena Matsui – Jurina’s eternal WCenter and other legendary member of the group – had shockingly announced her graduation, many people in the business had been prone to predict the slow and gradual death of the idol group. In spite of the forked tongues, SKE had always managed to bounce back and overcome its difficulties. It was the group’s undeniable strength: members never surrendered without a fight.

Nine generations.

Many talented members.

Plenty of other girls with hidden potential.

A potential that ought to be discovered and awaken.

It was precisely for all those reasons that Jurina was hopeful about the future. More than ever, she was confident that the group was far from over and still had a lot of offer. For many more years, SKE would continue to shine. In December 2019, an important page had been turned, and another one was about to open up in 2020.

Tokyo, two days later…

This Friday in early April, Rena was spending the entire day outside of Nagoya, having a few jobs to do in Japan’s capital. Having just finished an interview with NHK, she was now heading towards her next destination for lunch. When Yosuke had been informed that – not only they would both be in Tokyo at the same time, their schedules also miraculously matched - he hadn’t hesitated to invite her out. The actress had immediately agreed. Given their mutual busy schedules, they hadn’t been able to see each other these last two months, and mostly kept in touch through occasional exchanged messages on LINE.

This offer of lunch arrived just at the right time: it would be the perfect occasion to do some catching up.

Rena’s eyes lit up in recognition when she spotted from afar the Korean restaurant the actor had mentioned, relaxing a little when the latter didn’t seem to have arrived yet. Her interview with NHK had lasted a little longer than expected. At some point, Rena even got afraid that she might be forced to cancel their lunch, remembering that the actor couldn’t afford any important delay as he had another engagement in the afternoon in a completely different area of Tokyo.

Thankfully, she had been able to make it in time.

As Rena was waiting at a crosswalk for the light to turn green, the strong wind of Spring blew across her face, messing up her long brown hair that had been so neatly brushed for her previous interview. Raising her hand to brush back some hair that the wind had caressed out of place, she noted in surprise a few pink petals upon her shoulder. Soon, her attention got drawn to the majestic tree standing proudly on her right by the side of the road. The cherry tree responsible for the countless pink petals spread out on the asphalt all around her.

Carefully seizing between her fingers one of the petals that had fallen upon her black vest, she studied the delicate and fragile pink petal laying into the palm of her hand. She smiled reminiscently in spite of herself as a certain fond memory began to play back in her mind, and drifted five years back in time.

Rena checked her watch in apprehension, growing a little concerned as they were expected at the SKE theater in less than ten minutes. Thankfully, they were very close from their destination now. If there was one personality trait people had always associated with Rena, it was her impeccable punctuality. That’s why the mere idea of risking arriving late – even for just a few short minutes – and make the other members of the group wait, made her feel unquestionably a little uncomfortable. Increasing her pace, she didn’t have time to go far that a hand grabbed her arm from behind without warning.

“Rena, look!”

Halting abruptly, Rena turned around at the sound of Jurina’s enthusiastic voice, discovering her girlfriend contemplating a large cherry tree that they were passing by. So engrossed in her thoughts, Rena had admittedly not paid the slightest attention to her surroundings all the way here. Lifting her gaze, she took a brief moment to observe the cherry tree that was monopolizing Jurina’s attention.

A small smile inadvertently formed on Rena’s lips at Jurina’s childish amazement, before recalling that the clock was ticking. “We’re going to be late. I don’t want to make the others wait.”

“Yes…” Jurina replied but showed no sign of moving, her eyes still glued on the cherry tree as if she had never spoken.

Understanding that her girlfriend would need a little more convincing, Rena extended her arm to take her hand. “Juri-”

“Let’s take a picture together!”

Taken aback, it took Rena a few seconds to register what the other girl had uttered. “You want to take a picture now?” Rena repeated in bewilderment.

“Yes,” Jurina affirmed, turning around to face her. “Do you remember last week’s handshake event?”

“You mean, that morning when you sneakily took a picture of me in my sleep, and believed naively I would let you post it on social media?” Rena faked indignation.

“Yes, that day.” Jurina grinned maliciously.

“Then yes, I remember it perfectly.” An easy smile played at the corners of Rena’s mouth. “Why are you asking?”

“While you were still sleeping, I took a peek outside from our hotel room’s window and noticed a cherry tree in a park nearby. As I was watching it from afar, something occurred to me…” Jurina’s expression stalled and grew serious. “These last seven years, our life has been so hectic, that there are simple things we never find time to do. Hanami will be over in a few days: I would like to take a picture with you before it’s too late.”

It wasn’t a caprice as she initially believed: Rena was now positively sure of it after listening to her girlfriend’s arguments. Rena didn’t know what had triggered this sudden urge but, the more she analysed the situation, the more it looked like Jurina was simply trying to make memories. Memories with her. If that was the case, then how could she deny her such a legitimate wish?

“Alright…” Rena smiled with affection. “Let’s take a picture, then.”

Jurina’s face brightened and, after taking her phone out of her pocket, tugged at Rena’s hand to bring her closer. Rena obliged and came to stand by her side, waiting patiently while Jurina raised her phone in the air to take a selfie. Rena gave her best smile to the camera and got herself prepared - expecting the other girl to take a picture at any moment – but was surprised when things didn’t go exactly as planned.

Indeed, Rena followed Jurina’s moves as the latter kept rotating the phone left and right and up and down, evidently failing to find an angle to her liking. Rena suppressed with difficulty her amusement at her girlfriend’s antics. “Would you like me to take the picture?”

“Why? I know how to take a selfie.” Jurina’s lips formed an adorable pout. “I’m only trying to take the best picture possible.”

“But it doesn’t have to be perfect.” Rena shook her head softly. “What’s important is that we’re both on the picture, no?”

The younger girl ignored her statement and continued her little game, moving her phone in every direction possible again and again. Unfortunately, that kind of behaviour was inevitable when you had Jurina Matsui – self-proclaimed and proud perfectionist – as a girlfriend. Rena couldn’t keep it to herself any longer. “You’re impossible…” Rena chastised her gently, stopping her motions at once when she covered Jurina’s hand with hers. “Let me do it, alright?”

After a moment of reflection, Jurina reluctantly relented, letting Rena take the phone away from her grasp. “I think this is a good angle.” Rena positioned the phone, after making sure she had both of them on the picture, and the best view possible of the cherry tree in the background. “Are you ready?”

“Wait, wait.” Jurina drew closer and circled her arm. “Alright, I’m ready!”

Jurina’s enthusiasm was so infectious that Rena couldn’t help laughing a little, a small click being heard the moment after as she took a picture. Lowering the device, she handled it back to Jurina, knowing the latter would definitely wish to inspect the result before moving on. “Do you like the picture, or do you want to take another one?”

“No, it’s perfect…” Jurina’s face alight with happiness. “I love it.”

Rena regarded her with amusement before stepping out from under the cherry tree - expecting her girlfriend to follow her - but was startled when she didn’t hear any sound of footsteps behind her. Turning around to see what the other girl was doing, she noticed that Jurina was still focused on her phone and even staring intensely at the picture taken.

“We should get going or we’re really going to be late.” Rena reminded her of the imminence of their rehearsal.

Jurina’s eyes shot up to meet hers. “Ah, you’re right.” She put her phone away and joined her side hurriedly.

As they began walking away, Rena was caught off guard when Jurina placed all of a sudden a quick kiss on her cheek. The unexpected action made her unconsciously slow down her steps, and she regarded the other girl quizzically. “What… What was that for?”

“Just a thank you kiss.” Jurina smiled brightly. “I really wanted to take a picture of us during hanami.”

Rena’s gaze travelled over her face, grasping by the joy shining in her girlfriend’s eyes how truly important it had been for her to capture such a moment of their relationship. Reaching for Jurina’s hand, Rena slipped casually her fingers inside hers. “Yes, it will make a nice memory…” Her eyes brimmed with tenderness. “Send me the picture later, alright?”

Rena blinked, Jurina’s image slowly dissipating from her mind as she perceived in the distance the voice of someone calling her name. Almost as if her brain was refusing to leave the comforting place this peaceful memory procured, she ignored the voice at first, but the second calling of her name - this time much closer and clearer – made her come back to her senses completely.

“I thought it was you. Admiring the view?”

“Y-Yosuke…” Rena’s eyes widened in astonishment when she discovered the male actor standing right in front of her. “Yes, I guess you could say that…” She turned to follow Yosuke’s gaze on the cherry tree.

“Spring is one of my favourite seasons.” Yosuke watched with keenly observant eyes the branches’ movements, as they suddenly wavered under the force of the wind. “When the cherry trees blossom and the petals cover the pavement like an eiderdown. It only happens two weeks a year, but I always try to find time to pause - even for a short moment - to marvel at such a beautiful, ephemeral phenomenon.”

Rena dragged her eyes away from the cherry tree, and watched the play of emotions on the actor’s face. Today, Rena was discovering for the first time an unexpected aspect of her friend’s personality: Yosuke had quite a romantic and poetic side to him. Rena looked down to her phone and went through the gallery, her index pausing on the screen when the précised picture she was searching for appeared.

As Rena observed with fondness the picture of she and Jurina smiling in front of a large cherry tree, she couldn’t help thinking that Yosuke was not the only one to share such charming personality traits.

Ten minutes later, Rena and Yosuke entered the Korean restaurant, settling down at a table before beginning to take a look at the menu. If there was something that Rena had learned about the male actor these last years, is that Yosuke was somewhat particularly fond of Korean food. When they happened to go out for lunch or dinner and it was Yosuke’s turn to choose the place, a Korean name would each and single time escape his lips.

The recurrence was somewhat comical, yet Rena didn’t mind Yosuke’s preferences. She might not share the actor’s undivided love for this food in particular, she still found it quite tasty and enjoyable. Reciprocally, Yosuke never refused when it was her time to choose the place and she opted for slightly more uncommon food, such as an Italian or French restaurant.

“I want to go abroad during the Golden Week,” Yosuke announced once the waiter had left with their orders. “Don’t get me wrong: I love my job but I have been so swamped with work lately, that I haven’t been able to take a single day off.”

“I know the feeling…” Rena sympathized with him. “These last ten years, I haven’t taken a lot of vacations either. I would love to take a few days off once in a while, but my schedule…”

“Yes, that’s the main issue. Our work schedules.”

Both actors shared a knowing smile.

“You said you wanted to go abroad.” Rena’s curious gaze fell on him at the new piece of information. “Did you have any place in mind?”

“Yes, I was thinking of going to Korea. I’ve always wanted to visit Seoul.”

“Why am I not surprised?” Rena didn’t bother to hide her amusement. “I think it’s a great idea. I really hope you’ll enjoy yourself.”

“Why don’t you come with me? It would give us the chance to try out even more Korean restaurants.”

Yosuke’s teasing tone made her smile. “I wish I could, but I’m planning on going back to my home town for the Golden Week. I haven’t seen my parents in a while and I promised I would visit them.”

“You’re from Aichi, right?”

“Yes. From Toyohashi,” Rena specified. “To be honest, I also want to travel. There are so many countries I would like to visit: especially in Europe. But I’m not sure when I’ll ever have time for that...”

Yosuke nodded in understanding. “I hope you’ll still manage to fulfil all your dreams. Life is too short: we should make the most of it while we can.”

“Maybe next year. Actually, I would really like to go to Par-,” Rena started, but didn’t have time to finish her sentence that she was interrupted by the sound of her phone beeping. “Sorry…” Rena winced, and shot her interlocutor a small apologetic look. “It must be my manager: she was supposed to get back to me to give me more details about today’s schedule.”

Rena seized the phone laying on the table and went through the text she had received, a text from her manager as she had rightly predicted. Making a mental note to remember the small time change of her afternoon photoshoot with UTB, Rena blinked in perplexity when – as she was about to mute her phone and put it away - noted the surreal number of notifications she had received from her Twitter account.

After leaving the television studio of NHK, she had already checked her Twitter account: even updating it by informing her followers of her work schedule of the afternoon. She hadn’t noted anything out of the ordinary. So what could possibly have happened during those thirty minutes? Another time, she would have waited to be alone to go through her social accounts, but this strange commotion piqued her interest.

The article that charged on her screen made her heart stop.

Jurina Matsui, 23 years old, announced her graduation today at the end of a live showcase in Nagoya.

Frozen in place, Rena stared at the screen in stupor. Almost as if to make sure of the veracity of the article and that it wasn’t just a weird, silly prank, she resumed reading and didn’t pause until she had arrived at the bottom of the article. As she studied next the white and black picture accompanying the news – showing a mature and calm Jurina answering the journalist’s questions – realization dawned on her that this important day had truly arrived.

Jurina Matsui, SKE’s last first-generation member, was sailing off to new horizons after a twelve years career in the idol group.

“Is everything alright?” Yosuke asked worriedly.

Rena jolted out of her musing and looked up to meet his eyes. They glanced at each other silently for a little while, until Rena opened her mouth when she finally found her voice back. “I just learned…” She fumbled with her words. “I just learned that Jurina announced her graduation.”

Yosuke looked faintly surprised. “She’s leaving the group and she didn’t warn you in advance? As you seemed close friends, I thought…”

“No, we…” Rena’s face clouded with uneasiness. “We haven’t spoken in three years.”

Yosuke was taken aback by the revelation. “Did something happen?”

Rena nibbled on her lower lip. “It’s… It’s complicated.”

“You know how much I hate to pry but...” Yosuke paused in hesitation. “If you need someone to talk to, I’m here. I don’t really know how you view our relationship, but I want to believe that we are friends. I’m a good listener and I would never betray your confidence. Don’t ever doubt that, Rena.”

“I think of you as a friend too.” Rena managed a small, tentative smile. “But it’s a long and complicated story. I’m not… I’m not the nice person you think I am. I’ve hurt people: people really important to me.”

“By people, you mean… Jurina?” Yosuke asked tentatively, receiving a small nod in reply. “It’s true I’ve never met her in person and I don’t know what kind of relationship you two had but I was sometimes present when you spoke on the phone with her during the shooting of Destiny. And, I saw the way you reacted when she won the SSK last year: you looked so happy for her. It’s obvious to me that you still care about her.”

“I don’t just care about her.” Rena smiled sadly and looked down to her phone, lingering on the article, and most especially on Jurina’s picture. “But none it matters anymore. I caused her so much pain: she’ll never forgive me. I’m not even sure I want her to.”

When Yosuke reached across the table to take her hand, she stiffened in reaction when he gave her fingers a light, comforting squeeze. “I don’t agree when you’re saying you’re not a good person. You feel and express remorse, and I genuinely believe that everyone deserves a second chance.”

From her peripheral vision, Rena noticed the waiter approaching their table. Slowly retracting her fingers from Yosuke’s grasp, she fell abruptly quiet, reflecting upon Yosuke’s words as the male employee placed both their orders on the table. Was it really not too late to mends things as he surprisingly seemed to believe? Did she and Jurina still have a chance to reconnect? Rena found herself terribly torn between two conflicted emotions.

The pragmatic side of her wanted to scold Yosuke for daring giving her false hopes. Surely, Jurina had already moved on: there was no use in stirring up the past and reopening old wounds. However, another more selfish side of her – tinged with nostalgia and feelings of love she had never managed to bury – foolishly wished that he could be right.

#Destiny #wmatsui #matsui jurina #matsui rena #wmatsui fanfic #SKE48 #AKB48 #Partners sequel #chapter 29 #Heartbeat trilogy

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liannyeong · 7 years ago

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Card Rings

Summary: A night doing essays becomes a night to remember. Or a night that can change their lives.

Word count: 1533

Pairing: Jinyoung X OC

Warning(s): Fluff

A/N: it’s been a long time since i last posted a jinyoung fic, so here’s one! ^^

She knew that university life is not as exciting as how the media portrays. There is no such thing as freedom to do whatever you want, when there are tons of assignments on your desk, and deadlines chasing you around as if you are a criminal on the loose. The only freedom she ever has is scheduling her classes with the slots she likes best. Even so, she still has trouble being punctual for class when her nights are spent working on never-ending essays. She forces herself to stay awake until her body desperately need that warm bed of hers. And the next thing she knows, it's past noon and she's late for class.

She wonders if she will have to live like this forever, but university life isn't forever. It's just four years. Just. Four. Damn. Long. Years. But hey, on the bright side, she's already on her final year. That's not so bad, is it? Just one more year (of torture) and she'll be as free as the birds in the sky.

Until of course, reality slaps her in the face and she will have to get a job before she turns bankrupt.

"Hello, are you there?" Jinyoung's voice snaps her from her thoughts. Her eyes go focused at the male, who had waved his hand in front of her face. His eyes are clearly tired from the lack of sleep and the excessive use of his laptop. It's been hours since the sun has set, a few more before the sun rises and yet, Jinyoung looks perfectly handsome. As if he had just walked straight out of a fashion show, hair and looks always on point. "You're zoning out again."

"Sorry." She rubs her eyes, as if that would help her get back to her senses. "I was just-"

"Thinking of the end?" he finishes her sentence. She lets out a sigh and nods. Jinyoung just smiles sympathetically. "It'll all be over soon." She knows it's just Jinyoung's form of comforting her. It's just words and just hopeful wishes, but she finds herself believing his words like it's a form of magic. Any other person who says the same exact sentence will not be able to produce the same effect as how Jinyoung does. She just can't help but wonder if Jinyoung truly has any magical powers in him. He just has the ability to bring comfort to her.

She smiles back rather weakly. Without words, Jinyoung passes to her his bottle of water. No questions asked, she takes a gulp before returning it back. She straightens her back and draws the chair closer to the desk. Her attention goes back to her laptop screen, speed reading her previous paragraph so as to refresh her memory once more. Then, she continues her unfinished essay, typing out an elaboration of her point. The words slowly but constantly starts flowing in her mind as she types it out, goes through her blood before reaching her fingers. The tapping sound of the keyboard doesn't stop when she's on the ball, for the ideas just gets smoothly transferred onto her work.

It's 3.14 am when they sent in their essays. When the message, 'Your assignment has been successfully submitted.' popped on their screen, a huge wave of relief washes over their body and automatically, their bodies slumped in their seats. Contented, she shuts her tired eyes, finally being able to taste the sweetness of rest. She hears Jinyoung shift in his seat and she doesn't open her eyes until he calls her name softly - a little too hesitant.

The male has both his elbows on the table, his laptop shut and placed away. She figures that it's a serious conversation that they're about to have, for Jinyoung has never been this tensed around her. He has always been relaxed, cheerful and cracks jokes that only she could understand. Besides, they managed to submit their work before the deadline. What's with the tension in his shoulders then?

She sits up, suddenly conscious of how polite she should be. Her hands goes to her lap, clasped together, hoping that it's nothing serious.

Jinyoung takes a moment to collect his thoughts and courage, before he speaks. "This might sound a little out of the blue but... I'm just gonna say it anyway." He takes a deep breath before he continues, "It's our last year in university, and soon, we'll graduate. We'll be having our own jobs and be busy with our worklife. And so, I've been thinking a lot," he pauses. She holds onto her breath, and her fingers tighten, afraid of what's to come. Jinyoung leans back, and she's scared that he would just walk off from her life. That he would leave her forever. But no. Instead, he pulls out a pair of silver rings from his pocket. "This is lame but it's the only thing I could afford." He offers the pair at her.

She takes in a sharp breath, staring at the two rings in his hand. "Oh my god, Jinyoung. Are these-" she takes one from his hand, "card rings?" She pulls it apart and the ends open. Her eyes flick back at the dark-haired male, who nods with a pursed lip. He doesn't even meet her eyes. He's staring at the ring in her fingers.

"I told you it's lame," he says with his head down, voice softer than before. "Not sure if it fits, but that's the smallest size I could find in the bookstore," Jinyoung mumbles, rubbing the back of his neck.

She doesn't say anything, but closes the card ring. Then, she pushes it onto her left ring finger. The shank fits nicely around her finger, though it's loose enough to slip off her finger if she's not careful. She twists the card ring such that the hinge rests on the back of her finger. She gazes at it in awe, as if it's a real ring.

"This is gonna sound a little sappy but just... bear with me, okay?" Jinyoung breaks the silence. She flicks her attention back at the male. She brings her arms on the table, twirling the card ring around endlessly. "This card ring is just so lame, and it's nothing compared to a real ring. But a card ring was how our story started," he continues. "Remember when we had to host the school's social night three years ago? We rehearsed so hard for that day because of our perfectionist side. And we bought a box of card rings for the placards. We stayed up late, practiced our lines a thousand times, and also talked and grew close. Even after the event ended, we were still close." Jinyoung smiles to himself. She can't help but smile along as her mind recalls those memories. "And because we bought a whole box of card rings, we shared them. We used them for our notes. It was as if the card rings were our reason for seeing each other. As if the card rings bound us together."

Indeed, the card rings brought them together. It's stupid, she knows, but it was the key to their blossoming relationship. She remembers how they would pass the box of card rings to each other when one of them needed it. She remembers picking it up from his dorm, and if they were free, they would have a quick bite somewhere. A supposed short meeting or passing of items became hours long of conversations and chats. They would talk about anything that happened in their day and it escalated into something deeper and emotionally inclined as night fell. She remembers it all, but she had never stumbled upon the idea that the card rings were the start of them.

"We stopped using the card rings in our third year. But I went into a bookstore recently and saw it. I just had to get it." Jinyoung opens his card ring and holds it in front of him. "It's cheesy but I realized something: you make me whole." He snaps the ring shut, and holds the closed ring in front of her. She stares at him, blank. Heat rises in her cheeks at his words. She knew that both of them are literature major students, but she has never expected such sappy words from him. It may not be as beautiful as William Shakespeare's romantic plays, but the way Jinyoung phrased himself made her heart flutter. Her chest might just break with the rapid beating of her heart. And oh, what more the gaze he gives her?

"Will you stay with me for the rest of my life?" Jinyoung's question breaks her from her thoughts, his voice deeper than usual, and more firm than ever. The intensity of his gaze increased multifolds, and she can't tear her eyes away from it. It's like a suction, drawing her whole self in, and never being able to escape from the pressure. There's a little sparkle in his eyes, hopeful for her answer. It's the kind of look that she can never say no to.

And she doesn't want to say no either.

Her lips curl into a megawatt smile. "Forever and always."

#got7 #got7 jinyoung #got7 park jinyoung #got7 scenarios #got7 jinyoung scenarios #got7 park jinyoung scenarios #jinyoung #park jinyoung #park jinyoung scenarios #jinyoung scenarios #c: 1k #p: jy/oc

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airoasis · 6 years ago

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The Motivation Dimension: How Different Cultures Inspire High Performance

Today, practically all business is worldwide service. Cultural awareness is core for successful businesspeople today. This post is part in an ongoing series to assist readers utilize insights into the 8 measurements of culturally based work design differences, so you can raise your own worldwide organisation productivity.Motivation is a main Measurement in the CultureWizard Intercultural Model ®. It is critically important to understand the subtleties of work-life balance and motivation since it's the essential to comprehending what motivates people and motivates top performance.Yet, it's a terrific challenge for multi-cultural groups and, in reality, all aspects of intercultural communication: Motivation is one of those subtle cultural dimensions that can take you by surprise. It's not only influenced by culture and personal work designs, however it's also impacted by generational expectations. And, if misconstrued, it can cause you to make erroneous assumptions-- resulting in some cases stunning repercussions.Conflicting Inspirations in a Cross-Cultural Group I saw this very first hand when I was in Genoa, Italy,

dealing with my thesis task in a collaboration in between the University of Genova and New York City University, where I was completing a Master's degree in Music Innovation. The program culminated in a collaborative efficiency that consisted of groups from dance, music and interactive technology majors.Throughout the preparation procedure, all the teams worked to get rid of various language and cultural barriers to concentrate on their typical objectives. I found terrific fulfillment in

finding that while many of my Italian counterparts spoke really limited English, we spoke the same technical language and also discovered a good deal of understanding and sociability in our work.By completion of the program, the class was singularly concentrated on preparing for the conclusion efficiency and the entire group was excited and worried in anticipation. Due to a number of last-minute hold-ups, the technology team had not effectively checked all our last programs in the primary show place, so we required to use the gown practice session as our last test before showtime.I arrived 30 minutes early in order to establish for the dress practice session, however was disappointed to see that none of my Italian associates showed up until after the time we had actually discussed the night before. As is frequently the case with complex technology, unforeseen obstacles did

arise, and seemed to increase with each passing minute. At the time the gown practice session was arranged to begin, there were still a number of issues and I was frantically operating in the control room on a particularly pushing issue, assuming that the rest of my technology team remained in the primary efficiency hall working on the problems that had actually arisen there.If you're from a work/status-focused culture, you might imagine my surprise when I looked up and saw my American program director standing over me, requiring with panic in her voice to know where the rest of my team was. When she informed me that the hall was empty except for the artists and dancers who were waiting on us, I began to panic as well.I could discover no one from my team. Had they seen the scope of the problems facing us and decided to quit at the last minute? I took a deep breath, looked at my watch, and a thought that was previously unthinkable began to strike me.I ran out the door and up a high and winding alley to a nearby café, where I discovered my whole group of technologists sitting at a table with the remains of a delicious Italian

lunch. When they saw me plunge through the entrance, sweating and panting, they were most likely as stunned to see me as I was to see them. As I asked them incredulously why they were not fixing the last bugs to get us prepared for the performance, they insisted that the espressos had simply come out and that they would have the ability to assist out once again as quickly as coffee was finished.It ended up being painfully clear to me-- a work-oriented Midwestern American-- that to my team mates, work-life balance implied that a social lunch followed by coffee was as crucial to them as punctuality to the gown wedding rehearsal. To me, dedication and accomplishment were primary motivators, while to my Italian associates( who didn't desire to dissatisfy our fellow students, either )the primary function of life was pleasure, routine and social bonding.The team lastly made it back to the venue and resolved the rehearsal all the method as much as the minute of the efficiency to make sure that everything worked flawlessly. The event was a big success, and at its conclusion, my Italian colleagues didn't hesitate to point that out to me. Exactly what if they were a little bit late? And, how unfortunate it was that I didn't get an opportunity to delight in such a wonderful lunch!Cross-Cultural Inspiration and Work-Life Balance Motivation-Work-Life Balance describes what does it cost? work-life balance is valued in

the society. Which is more motivating: personal time or a promo at work? What do you think about individual sacrifices and what do you consider sensible demands for work? Is it reasonable to be asked to work on a weekend, to reschedule a holiday? What's the separation between your work and individual lives? Do you live to work or work to live?While we 'd all like to think we pursue balance in our expert and personal lives, cultures differ inthe values they hold concerning the significance of work versus individual

time. Another differentiator of societies is how much people identify themselves by their personal lives or their work titles and accomplishment. These differing values are likewise shown in organizational and government policies relating to getaway time, versatile work arrangements, child-care provisions and other family benefits.In societies that are work-oriented, people are ready to compromise personal time, work into the night and on weekends, take their laptops on trip, and hop onto an aircraft at a minute's notification. While the outward signs are obvious, under the surface area what's inspiring people may be status along with personal fulfillment. This isn't really simply a matter of private choice. You have the tendency to discover that nations with an extremely work-oriented culture don't have state-mandated vacations or welfare benefits that alternative to work.At the other end of the continuum, Work-Life Balance cultures tend to worth one's individual life as amounting to, if not more essential than, work.

You work to live, not live to work. People in such cultures hardly ever discuss business at a social function; personal achievement and economic gain take second place to quality of life. When you're asked," What do you do?"it could simply as likely be a concern about your pastimes as your career.In many countries that rank high up on Balance, government or business policies enforce long trips and might limit work hours. There are programs, such as adult leave, to help moms and dads. Failure to take one's complete quota of paid leave is considered silly. The individuals who are constantly last to leave

the office are not thought about dedicated, however ineffective-- they can't complete their work within the allotted time.Some societies see work as exactly what has to be done to make it through and enjoy your life. Given that people in these societies don't get power and status by dint of effort, they typically limit their time at work and focus their energies on family, good friends and personal undertakings.At the other end of the spectrum are cultures in which people worth achievement and may sacrifice individual time and household because

work associated accomplishments are central to getting power and status. Organizations in these cultures downplay asking workers to give up family time or sacrifice getaways for work responsibilities. Self-fulfillment comes from financial gain and work recognition.The Effect of Motivation on Cross-Cultural Organisation Attitudes toward the Inspiration Measurement impact the hours you work, the willingness to have companies invade your personal time as well as your self-image. In cultures that are high up on Status, individuals feel that what you accomplish is figured out by effort. Furthermore, they think that work and accomplishments must be acknowledged and rewarded, and people are valued for their quantifiable contributions.In these cultures, objectives are plainly specified and

on-the-job efficiency is measured against these goals for bonus offers, promotions, retention, and recruitment for participation in unique tasks. In high status cultures, households easily tolerate work demands to interfere with a person's private life because working hard and revealing the trappings of being very hectic is a method of obtaining status. It may imply bring a pager or a cellular phone, or simply giving out one's house telephone number to crucialclients. If a crisis occurs over the weekend, it indicates dropping everything to head into the office.In other words, to lots of people in these cultures, what you accomplish specifies your significance and status in the world, and causes a sense of wellness. In cultures where Balance is the stronger Motivation, great worth is placed on relationships and individual attributes. Your task complete satisfaction is frequently more crucial than setting and reaching arbitrary objectives. Given that status isn't controlled by private achievements, individuals will more frequently look for harmony in the work environment.Managing Various Kinds of Motivation with Multi-Cultural Staff Members Because expectations in the workplace differ considerably with the Motivation Measurement, it's critical to understand what types of benefit structures will be most reliable with your group. Is the benefit work-life balance or is it acknowledgment for job-related accomplishments? Will your workers react more positively if applauded (and compensated) for their massive achievements or will some other type of reward be more motivating?As a result, finding typical ground for satisfying and encouraging workers is a considerable obstacle when dealing with staff members with varied perspectives on this dimension. Understanding the Inspiration Dimension offers you the basis for making those determinations.

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