#I honestly LOVE busy designs as long as i can mentally follow the design choices and colours used!!

[wincore]

runway (m) | jung yoonoh

pairing: model!jaehyun x fashion designer!reader

words: 18.7k

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

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

warnings: sexual content, mentions of anxiety

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There’s some nods and sounds of affirmation. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

_jeongjaehyun:

My manager told me it was good publicity

But I could take it down for you

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You don’t make the same mistake twice.

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

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

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

Do you love it? 

Of course you fucking do. 

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

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

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

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

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

You. You’re a big deal. 

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

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

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

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

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

D-1. Same feeling, new season.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“My job? What do you think, genius?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The buzzing reaches a peak before everything is drowned out.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Afterparties are not your thing. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You could have, too.

No way. You tell yourself that’s ridiculous. 

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

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

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

Afterparties are not your thing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Uh, hi,” he greets.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You freeze. 

“New York?” you manage to squeak.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What are you not telling me, Joohyun?”

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

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

“Yes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You were not one of them. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“(name)?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sarcastic. Very nice.”  

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s not what I—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“(name)! Come quick!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your shoulders droop. Amateur. New. Unprofessional.

“Oh.”

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

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

Secrets. 

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

And perfection is your dear old friend. 

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

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

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

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

“No,” you deny. “Just curious.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re just so easy to work up.”

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

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

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

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

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

Jaehyun raises an eyebrow.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sour.” 

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

“Is- Is something wrong?”

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

“You’re doing two different concepts today?”

“Three, actually.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Something sets into motion, subtle but sharp.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s me, Jaehyun.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

You trail off, trying to get yourself to breathe.

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But he still came all the way here.

“Aren’t you a little…overdressed?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You…have someplace to be then?”

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

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

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

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

Or is it him? 

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

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

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

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

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

“Literally zero times.”

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

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

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

“Dickhead,” you hiss.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jaehyun nods, something akin to agreement in his response. 

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

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

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

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

“Oh? How so?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your eyes flutter over his face once again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Your collar’s…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There’s something definitely wrong with you, love.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Afterparties are still not your thing. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“(name), thank you.” 

Success feels good. Gratitude feels even better.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You know I like you, right?”

You turn around. “What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hyung—”

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

“Hyung. I’m hanging up.” 

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

“That—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And a little bit about me.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you want me saying something cheesy?”

“Absolutely not.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I certainly hope so.”

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

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

#jaehyun scenarios #nct scenarios #neowritingsnet #cznnet #jaehyun smut #nct jaehyun #nct imagines #jaehyun imagines #nct 127 scenarios #nct fluff #nct smut #nct 127 imagines #jaehyun x reader #nct x reader #jaehyun fluff #nct 127 x reader #really nervous about posting this bc it's so out of my comfort zone #anyway shoutout to bestdressed on youtube aka the only fashion vlogger who wouldnt bully me #reader has 'feminine' qualities but they have no explicitly stated gender so make what you will #moonwrites #tw: anxiety

[andromedasstarship]

in the stars - chapter 3

photo credit - unknown 

pairing - aaron hotchner x reader

warnings - canon-typical criminal minds violence, stalking, depictions of murder/violence, angst, verbal fighting, drinking, unhealthy coping mechanisms, smoking (cigarettes) 

summary -  “If you’re upset over how I ended our relationship, that is completely separate from the dealings of the case and I expect you to be able to conduct yourself appropriately.” Aaron said and you thought this was what ‘seeing red’ meant

a/n - hi besties! im so sorry this update took so long! i really wanted to make it perfect and was struggling with putting this together. to make it up this chapter is a whopping 5.9k words so uh enjoy lol!

masterlist // series masterlist // read it on ao3

chapter 2 // chapter 4

-----

You had to physically stop yourself- gripping the desk chair beside you so hard your knuckles turned white- from following Aaron out the office door and demanding he make sense of the whole good cop- ha!- bad cop show he’d been putting on since the two of you had been horribly reunited outside of the police station. 

This had been the second instance of him implying or accusing you of somehow worsening the case. And he hadn’t even been in LA for over 24hrs. It wasn’t fair, you thought, angrily grumbling to yourself about all the different ways you’d love to give him a piece of your mind. If he’d been a regular man, that you’d never met before, you probably wouldn’t consider his current behavior to be so- out of pocket? disgraceful? insulting?- offensive. You knew he had a reputation for being...,a hardass on the job, but that didn’t mean he had to go overboard in his treatment towards you. Maybe he wasn’t going overboard, maybe this was just how he treated every- you weren’t sure exactly how to define yourself in the case- witness? Maybe this is just what his team expected in terms of his behavior towards people he didn’t know.

But he did know you, he knew you quite well. He knew you well enough to know you’d never purposely attempt to slow the case down. Even without his fancy profiler skills, you were certain Aaron Hotchner knew every little thing about you. Or at least he used to. 

And while Aaron may know everything there was to know about you, you were beginning to doubt if you actually knew anything about him. As expected, over the past two months the case had been taking an extreme toll on you; constantly looking over your shoulder and worrying that someone was lurking behind every corner. What made it worse, was that it was yet another situation that required you to keep a secret. You ‘had’ the officers at the station and your agent, but besides them you were dealing with this completely on your own. Making the situation about yourself felt wrong, but you couldn’t even begin to explain how hurt you felt at Aaron's accusations that you were somehow more part of the problem than you were a victim. Yes, you hadn’t gone up to him and explicitly told him how badly you were hurting, but it’s not like it took a genius- or a profiler- to reach that conclusion themselves. 

It hurt, to have someone whose validation you had once- still did- crave so much, suddenly act as if you were a ‘bad guy’. Maybe you were being dramatic, you thought. Maybe you were overreacting and reading far too deep into such short interactions. On the other hand, you reasoned that it was perfectly acceptable to have feelings. Before you could delve deeper into that mental tirade, a sharp knock on the doorframe grabbed your attention. Looking up, you saw JJ leaning halfway into the room. 

“Sorry,” you said, awkwardly letting go of the chair, “I uh, got caught up with uh, just you know, thoughts about the case!” Smooth. You tried to put a cheery tone in your voice. You tried to subtly study her reaction as you walked over to her and it was clear she wasn’t exactly buying into your sudden happy attitude. She didn’t press you though, something you were grateful for. Instead she just moved out of the doorframe, letting you join her in the hallway. 

“The rest of the team has split up already, would you like to start in the basement?” JJ asked. You had only spoken to her a couple times, briefly at that, but you already found great comfort in her presence; you could see why she held the position, her ability to comfort and connect with others was unbeatable. Definitely need to send JJ a case of wine as a gift. 

You nodded dumbly, joining her in the hallway and taking her down towards your basement. Internally, you guessed the little ‘tour’ would only take an hour tops, considering all the little spiels you’d have to give about each room. 

You felt a bit like when you went through airport security or when a police car was on a road you were driving on. That sinking feeling that somehow you were going to get in trouble even though you knew you didn’t have anything to hide. Damn Aaron. His apparent lowly opinion of you was definitely messing with your head. Oh well. 

As you lead JJ towards the basement, you could vaguely hear the other agents throughout the house. A door opening here or the sound of papers rustling over there. You hadn’t exactly asked how they would be able to tell if something was missing or out of place. But honestly? You didn’t really care what the team did in your house, as long as they figured out how the unsub had gotten in there. 

You’d already come to terms with the fact that the unsub had managed to steal your clothes and jewelry, but you just couldn’t shake the fact that he had gotten into your house. Part of you secretly wished he had pick-pocketed you on a busy street or was stealing stuff off a film set instead. It would’ve been equally as bad and creepy and horrifying, but it would’ve been worth still feeling safe in your own house. 

Smacking the lightswitch on the wall behind you, the entire basement became illuminated. “So,” you started, really drawing out the word, “this is the basement. It’s technically one big open floor, but well,” you gestured lazily with your hand, “you can see it’s kinda still split up. There’s a movie room behind those doors right there.” 

JJ stepped ahead of you, walking towards the high windows in the basement. You watched as she ran her fingers along the window edges, carefully going over each one. “Do these open?” She asked, turning back to look at you. 

You quickly shook your head. “They’re mostly just for, like, decoration purposes.” You responded, giving a slight shrug. “I um, I’m not down here much unless I’m having people over. And those stairs we came down are the only way to get in here.” You added, thinking that’d probably be helpful. 

JJ gave you that nice smile again and started towards the movie room. “I’m just gonna look in here real quick and then we can go back upstairs, okay?” 

You stood awkwardly at the bottom of the stairs, rolling back and forth from your heels to your tippy toes, awkwardly playing with your hands in front of yourself. You knew her movie room scan wouldn’t take wrong, there were zero windows in there and no other point of entry besides the door she had walked through. 

Just as you expected, JJ came back out no longer than five minutes later. Once she got closer to you, you turned slowly on your heel and started back up the stairs. “We can start upstairs and then meet the rest of your team on the main level?” You offered.

“Lead the way.” 

“There’s um, two ways to get upstairs. There’s that main staircase you saw in the foyer and also there’s a ‘servants stair’ in the back,” you said, making air quotes with your fingers at the ‘servants stair’ part, “I have people that work in the house sometimes, but it’s not an actual designated staircase for anyone.” You explained, unsure of why you were feeling so anxious. 

“Why don’t we go up using the second set of stairs? Since I’ve already seen the main set.” JJ said. 

You nodded dumbly again, and walked in the direction of the back stairs. Once upstairs, you gave the same room spiel to JJ about six times. This is ‘x’ room, yep those windows can open, nope no one regularly comes into this room, yes the balcony doors do lock from the inside. 

Just as you thought earlier, the little tour took just a couple minutes under an hour. You and JJ were standing in your kitchen, both of you leaning against opposite countertops. According to JJ the whole team had agreed to meet up in your kitchen once they were done with their scans, so it seemed that you two were the first to finish. Also expected. 

You were lucky you hadn’t run into Aaron the entire time. At times you could vaguely hear his voice coming from another room and all that did was pull on your heartstrings and remind you of when the two of you were together. Aside from the sadness factor, you still weren’t sure you could trust yourself to not yell at him as soon as you saw him again. 

“That’s funny.” JJ said amusedly-more to herself than to you-, pulling you out of your thoughts. 

“What is?” You asked. She had moved from her spot by the countertops, to standing in front of your liquor wall, staring up at a bottle you couldn’t quite recognize from your position. 

“Oh, just Agent Hotchner? Out there,” she said, gesturing broadly out to where the rest of the team might be, “he loves this brand of scotch. We joke sometimes that he’d pick it over us if he was given the choice. But apparently it’s super difficult to get. He started getting lucky a few years ago and found a way to buy it, but recently I guess that luck ran out and he hasn’t been able to find it anymore.” 

Your eyes went wide at that. Yes. That scotch was super difficult to get and it was ridiculously expensive. And yes, Aaron loved the stuff. The two of you used to constantly argue over money. He hated that you were always the one paying for everything and had created a ‘rule’ that you weren’t allowed to buy him any gifts. Of course, you managed to find a way around that rule and found that this specific scotch was his gift achilles heel. So, you used to send him a steady supply while also keeping a bottle at your place for the rare occasions he was over. 

“Oh?” You squeaked. 

“Yeah, it’s super rare or something. They only make so many batches a year don’t they?” JJ asked, turning back to look at you. 

You quickly pulled your emotions in when she turned towards you, just giving her your third dumb nod of the day. “Yep, super hard to get. Super super hard. I uh, got as a gift once, I don’t even like the stuff.” 

“You should tell Hotch. I bet he’d pay pretty well for it.” She said with a laugh, shaking her head. Definitely will not be doing that. 

----

Upstairs, Rossi and Hotch were looking through your upstairs office. While your downstairs office was more work based- you stored scripts and had meetings down there, etc.-, your upstairs office was used for your more ‘personal’ work tasks. 

“If the unsub is taking her clothes, we might have better success scoping out her closet. See the potential entry and exit points from her room that the unsub must be taking.” Rossi proposed. 

Hotch nodded at that, putting down the stack of fan mail he’d been flipping through, trying to find any repeats or ‘creepy’ letters. He made a mental note to have Reid come and read through the piles of other mail you had neatly stacked around the room.

Your attention to fanmail had been one of the things that had quickened the process of him falling in love with you. He had had his doubts in the beginning of you relationship- he had stereotyped you for sure-, your age and status giving him somewhat valid concerns that you’d be insanely disconnected from the normal world. You’d proved him wrong in many ways since the beginning, but one of those ways had been the many days you’d call him from this room, reading through every single letter you were sent and always making sure to send a small note back. 

“Good idea, let’s go.” Hotch said. He walked out of office and didn’t think twice, his body automatically walking towards the room a few doors down from your bedroom. You didn’t keep your closet in your bedroom, you had actually put a little couch and sitting room in your bedroom closet space. Instead you’d taken an entire guest room and converted it into a full dressing room/closet that was a better fit for your needs. 

As Hotch went straight into the room, he missed the narrow look Rossi was giving him from the doorframe. It only took a couple minutes, but eventually Hotch looked up, cocking an eyebrow at Rossi. “Are you going to come in?” He questioned. 

“You knew her closet wasn’t in her room.” Rossi noted, amusement clear in his voice. 

Hotch’s face paled, before he steeled his emotions back over. “I saw the clothes while walking past earlier and made the deduction.” 

“She’s pretty, isn’t she Aaron?” Rossi teased, clearly finding a lot of enjoyment in this conversation. 

“Dave,” Hotch groaned, running a hand over his face, “just, not now okay?” He asked, the desperation clear in his voice. 

Rossi certainly didn’t have the entire story figured out, but he wasn’t dumb either, he could piece things together. As much as he’d love to keep busting Hotch over this, there was something about how gentle he had been with you in the conference room and his current clear discomfort that persuaded Rossi otherwise. Rossi grinned at Hotch and raised his hands in mock surrender. 

“So, we know the unsub doesn’t have to necessarily be quiet, her room is at least what, 3-”

“Four and across the hall.” Hotch huffed out, not looking up to meet Rossi’s eyes.

“Four and across the hall away. So he doesn’t need to sneak past her if he’s coming in at night...” 

----

Back in the kitchen, you turned your head at the sound of the back patio doors opening, showing Morgan and Spencer. Guess they’d be the second pair done with their house tour. 

Just as you were about to open your mouth and offer the two of them something to drink, you noticed the rather grim expressions on both their faces. Upon better inspection, you saw Spencer was tightly gripping on to a dirty journal. 

“What’s that?” You asked curiously, trying to get a better look at it. 

“I found this uh, journal out by the edge of your property line. I think it may belong to the unsub.” Reid responded, giving you a tight lipped look. 

It was terribly cliche, but you couldn’t help but gasp at that. Your eyes going wide and your mouth hanging open. 

“I flipped through it, there’s nothing that clearly identifies him, but it seems like he was keeping track of your comings and goings. As well as keeping a list of the things he took from your house, we can cross check that list with-” 

“Can I look at it?” You interjected, a morbid curiosity consuming your mind. 

Reid gave an unsure glance at the two other agents in the room. “I think it’d be better for the rest of the team and I to look through the journal first, and make sure there’s nothing uh...upsetting in it.” 

----

With the new revelations that the unsub had managed to break into your home multiple times, the team decided it would be best for at least one of them to be with you at the house at all times; during the day they would assign a plainclothes officer to discreetly sit watch. It was comical, the way they decided on the watch and then promptly assigned Aaron the first shift of the night. 

You wondered why he agreed to it, knowing he could’ve easily pulled a seniority boss card and taken himself out of any and all future watch shifts as well. He probably didn’t want you to get closer with any of his agents, should you accidentally say something a bit too personal. He also probably assumed that with the late hour of the night, you’d immediately be going to bed or at least locking yourself away in your room for the rest of the night. 

The team had stayed hours after their first walkthroughs of the house, the new list and notes from the unsub giving you all a better idea of what to look for. You had gone through the list of clothes and jewelry in front of the team, giving them a base description of what you assumed the unsub had meant, whether or not you had considered it missing and where you thought you’d last seen it in the house.

Unfortunately, whatever Aaron had been banking on wouldn’t be happening. You hadn’t been able to shake the sinking feeling that your house was no longer a home anymore. It was painfully cheesy, but you knew that trying to sleep would be futile. Nor did you really feel like being ‘alone’ in your room. That didn’t mean you were going to strike up a conversation with Aaron or ask him to play a board game or something, but you wouldn’t be shutting away from the rest of the night. 

After the team left, you had gone upstairs and changed into a more comfortable outfit for the evening; just your trusty sleep shorts and an oversized t-shirt. You were now walking back down the stairs and towards your kitchen; you grasped a lighter and your emergency cigarette pack in one hand. As you made your way into the kitchen, you could feel Aarons eyes on you from wherever he was seated in the living room. You pointedly ignored him, instead setting the pack and lighter down, freeing your hands so you could mix yourself your favorite drink. 

Once your drink was prepped, you balanced all your things in your hands and made your way back through the living room and out the grand French doors that lead to your backyard. You walked over to one of your lounge chairs that overlooked the pool and had a beautiful view of the sky and bright lights of the city. You turned on one of your favorite playlists and made yourself comfy in the chair, lighting up one of the cigarettes. 

With the first inhale, you felt your body relax. It was a horrible habit- you knew that-, but if there was ever a time to stress smoke, you reasoned it was probably now. Over the sound of your music, you faintly heard one of the doors open again, but you didn’t bother turning around. 

“I thought you quit.” Aaron said, quite literally coming out of the shadows. Even though you didn’t turn to look at him, you could perfectly imagine him in your mind; probably leaning up against one of the legs of the cabana, arms tightly crossed and a deep scowl on his face. 

“I did.” You replied plainly, blowing a steady stream of smoke out of your mouth. Using your free hand you picked your glass back off the chair side table, twirling it slowly. As you took a long sip, you could hear Aaron walk closer, not quite coming into view yet. 

“Drinking and abusing substances in response to a traumatic situation is widely frowned upon. 

“Thank you Surgeon General,” you said, rolling your eyes before adding, “no offense Agent, but right now, I don’t really think it matters.” You didn’t even bother attempting to argue that you were on your first drink and first smoke. 

“It matters, when my team will be counting on you tomorrow. The expectation is that you’ll be a useful and legitimate resource.” Aaron said, voice tight. 

“Do you really think I’m dumb enough to actually believe, that you believe that a single drink is going to render me useless?” You asked, finally turning your head so you could give him a pointed look. When he didn’t answer you rolled your eyes again, turning back away from him. “It doesn’t matter, Agent, I’m unavailable to be a resource tomorrow.” 

“What do you mean, unavailable?” Aaron asked. He finally walked into view, sitting down on the chair next to you. He positioned his legs over the edge facing you, resting his elbows off his knees. 

“What do you mean unavailable?” You said mockingly- the alcohol in your system and stress of the day emboldening your behavior. You paused for a moment to take another drag from your cigarette; Aaron didn’t miss the way you turned your head further from him during your exhale. “You have your job Agent, I have mine.” 

“There is a dangerous free man out there with a special interest in you. He’s not only managed to break into your house but is also murdering surrogate women in place of you,” he said, voice growing louder as he went, “and you think you should go to a film set? How immature and irresponsible are-” 

“Stop doing that!” You cut him off, snapping your head to face him. For a brief moment, you were taken aback by how close he’d been sitting. “Stop painting me to be some dumb self centered girl. This is the fourth time today.” You said, staring him hard in the face, neither of your breaking eye contact. He always looked so good with a beard- stop that. 

“I’m trying to do my job and protect you,” he paused, eyes scanning your face, “I couldn’t handle anything happening to you.” In that moment, his voice was so painfully honest and it almost made you want to agree to do whatever dumb rules he had for you. 

Almost.

Instead, you swung your legs to the side of the chair opposite to him, standing up in a quick blur of motion. “Stop doing that too!” You exclaimed, running your free hand over your face. You took a long drag from your cigarette, placing one hand on your hip. Aaron was giving you a genuinely confused look and you just wanted to wipe it off in one big swipe. “Stop doing some weird little bait and switch between acting like I’m a diva and then trying to end it with some vaguely little sweet comment.” 

“You actually think I don’t care about your safety?” Aaron asked, the faintest bit of hurt in his voice. He stood up as well before continuing. “You think this isn’t a difficult case for me?” 

“You do not get to do that!” You said angrily, pointing a free finger out at him. “You are not allowed to try and make yourself a victim in this story while you simultaneously make me part of the problem. How the hell can you see yourself as even remotely ‘good’ when you left the way you did?” There it was. Maybe it was immature, dragging the breakup into the argument, but the days’ tension- not to mention the months of bottled up emotions- was finally snapping inside of you. 

“If you’re upset over how I ended our relationship, that is completely separate from the dealings of the case and I expect you to be able to conduct yourself appropriately.” Aaron said and you thought that this must be what ‘seeing red’ meant. 

“Do you treat all your witnesses like this?” You were full on yelling now, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. “Is this your version of appropriate conduct, Agent Hotchner? You’ve proven to be nothing but incompetent! You can’t even see two inches past your own fucking face to consider this from my perspective!” 

Your words had their intended effect. Aaron’s face fell for the briefs of moments before years of bottling his own emotions took back over. You had to give him some credit for keeping it, outwardly, more together than you were. “I won't fight with you over something as trivial as this. You’ll report to the station in the morning with the rest of the team.” He ordered, voice dangerously low. 

“I have to work!” You exclaimed, putting heavy emphasis on each word. 

“Going to work isn’t safe. Do you understand that? Your stalker is well acquainted with your schedule, you need to step away from what’s expected of you. It’s dangerous-”

“Oh my god,” you groaned, shaking your head, “are you even listening to yourself? Your job is dangerous every single day, hell you didn’t even step away when the job was dangerous specifically to you! How am I supposed to take advice you can’t even follow?” At the end of your sentence, you angrily stubbed out your cigarette in the ashtray, leaving the butt in the tray. 

“This isn’t about me.” Aaron snapped, voice loudest it’d been all night. “I’m trying to keep you safe. What part of that don’t you understand?” He asked, giving you a tough look. You found yourself at a loss for words and he took your silence as an opening to continue. “I can’t stand to see you get hurt.”

“Are you finally understanding how exhausting it was to love you!” You blurted out, the words catching even you by surprise. You forcibly blinked back the tears forming your eyes. “That this, is how I felt each time you were called away on a case?” 

Aaron was equally as shocked, his mouth opening in vain a few times as he searched for the proper response. “I made sure you were properly aware of the risks and demands of my job before we started our relationship.” Bad answer.

“And I never complained,” you replied, a defeated tone creeping into your voice, “not once, did I?”

“If you’re going to accuse me of hypocrisy, you should recognize it in yourself. You were equally if not more in demand than I was.” 

“I thought you liked that I was so ‘in demand’!” You said, the frustration growing again. “What was it you always said? You liked not having to worry about me alone at home, waiting up for you.” 

“You’re coming to the station tomorrow Y/N. Final order.” Aaron repeated, completely ignoring your last statement. 

“You know what,” you said, the fight in your voice gone, “I don’t have to put up with this and your lame attempts at trying to be a good guy. I’m not having this conversation anymore.” You quickly leaned over to swipe your cigarette pack and glass of the little table. 

“Are you actually going to run away from this?” He asked, almost as if he was trying to bait you back into the argument.

You scoffed loudly, staring him dead in the eyes. “You did.” 

You angrily walked around him, nearly stomping the entire way to the door. As you were halfway into the house you paused for a moment, not even slightly turning your head back towards him. “Blankets are still in the same spot in the living room.” You said, slamming the door behind you as soon the sentence left your lips. 

-----

The next morning, promptly at 8am, an email from your agent was sent to Aaron. It was incredibly petty and inherently personal, but to an outsider it was nothing out of the ordinary for someone of your status. Aaron was near furious, as expected, but even in his stubbornness he could see you had the high ground. Long story short, the email plainly stated vaguely threatened that if your work schedule were to become an issue for the team, you could easily send a ‘spokesperson’ from your team to deal with any and all future communications. Y/N 2, Aaron Hotchner 0.

Back at your house, you were having a lovely morning. The victory tasted sweet in your mouth as you got yourself ready for the long day. Sometime around 4:00AM Reid had switched out with Aaron and the two of you were currently in your kitchen; Reid sitting at one of your countertop stools while you stood over the stove. After being angrily informed by Aaron that you wouldn’t be required to come into the station with Reid, you decided to make a simple breakfast for the two of you. Reid had wanted to leave sooner, but he was also under orders to not leave you alone until you were safely in your own car and on your way.

You weren’t sure how he felt, but you thought you and Reid got along quite well. He was the closest in age to you and even though he didn’t really seem to understand any of the little jokes or references you made, there was still some level of mutual understanding there. It didn’t hurt that he was quite easy on the eyes as well, of course he wasn’t Aaron by any means- stop that! 

Over breakfast, you spent the entire time answering Reid’s many questions about various actors and actresses he was a fan of. Lucky boy, you thought; as all the people he mentioned were quite nice even when the camera was off. What was it that people said about never meeting your hero? 

He graciously offered to do all the clean up, as you had cooked, which gave you a bit of extra time to make sure you were ready to go. When you both were ready and Reid had confirmed the plainclothes officer was positioned on your street, he helped you to your car. 

With one hand on the top of your car, just as you were about to sit down, you stopped and turned to Reid. “I enjoyed breakfast, would you please tell Agent Hotchner how sorry I am that my schedule’s gotten in the way?” You asked, giving him your sweetest smile. It was another petty move and Aaron was sure to see right through it; the team had amazing skills at reading people, you knew that, but you were an equally talented actress. “I’ll make sure to let you guys know when I’ll be back at home tonight.” You added, before sliding into your car. Reid closed the door gently behind you, waving from the outside of your garage as you pulled out and drove off. 

-----

Case wise, the next two days were quiet. You had won the ‘going to work battle’ by a longshot and happily went about your scheduled days. Aaron hadn’t taken another watch shift since the argument, something you were grateful for. It wasn’t until the fourth day, that the case started to pick up again.

“Agent Hotchner?” A young officer stepped into the conference room, holding out a thick manila envelope. “This was just dropped off at the front desk, addressed to you.” That certainly captured the entire team’s attention; every head turning, as if off on a swivel, to face the officer. 

“Who dropped it off?” Hotch demanded. ‘Who dropped it off?” He repeated, an added aggression in his voice. 

“Some kid! Some kid dropped it at the front and left before anyone could get a word out!” The officer said hurriedly, raising one of his hands up in a meek surrender. 

Hotch stepped up to the officer, easily snatching the envelope out of his hands. “Assure that my technical analyst has access to your entire security feed. Now.” He ordered, not giving the officer as a second glance. “Morgan, call Garcia and make sure she accesses those tapes and identifies the kid immediately.” 

Hotch went back to standing in front of the long table in the middle of the room, setting the envelope down in front of him. “Gloves, I need-” A pair were placed in his outstretched hand by Reid before he could finish. “I don’t want anyone touching anything that comes out of here without gloves, understood?” He said, not looking at anyone in particular. His focus, completely drawn to the angry penmanship that spelled out his name. After quickly pulling his gloves all the way on, Hotch grabbed the envelope again, internally shoving down his emotions before ripping off the top edge in one clean pull. Nothing could have prepared him for the way the envelope was overflowing with hundreds of photos of you. He tilted the envelope and they all came falling out, covering the table in front of him. Reid mentally estimated there were over five hundred photos of you- some seemed to be cut, some looked to have writing and designs on them- and there were even a few slips of paper thrown in the mix. 

“Hotch, Garcia managed to grab the plate from what the kid drove off in. She's running it-” Morgan said, his sentence running off as he took in the table full of photos. “Holy shit.” He said quietly, making his way closer to the table as well. 

Hotch reached down, picking up the closest photo to him. There you were, standing on a boardwalk with your hand blocking the sun from your eyes. You looked beautiful- stop that. As Hotch further studied the photo, he picked up a second one, taking another good look. It struck Hotch and the team then, the majority of the photos were grossly intimate; as if the unsub had taken them by himself. Hotch’s stomach twisted when his eyes fell on a photo that looked like you were posing for it, throwing a big smile and peace sign up at the camera. 

“Did Garcia get any hits on any scorned lovers?” Emily asked, holding up a photo of you and a man. The face and body of the man had been aggressively scratched over and cut up, but Aaron had a sinking feeling it was of him. 

“Yea, I got another potential ex photo right here.” Reid said, holding up another picture. In this one you had clearly been looking up at someone, but the photo had been crudely cut up to exclude whoever it was. 

Morgan held up one of the slips of papers, giving it a confused look. “You lost Aaron?” He said, reading off the paper. “What’s the reasoning for singling out Hotch rather than someone closer to her age like Reid” He questioned, not expecting anyone to answer. 

“I got one of Hotch’s face scribbled over. He must’ve gotten the photo online.” Emily added, holding up a professional headshot of Hotch. “Is anyone seeing photos of the rest of us? The unsub could see all of us as interfering with his connection to Y/N.” 

Hotch’s stomach was twisted in all different directions. He knew the moment of truth was coming and was internally cursing himself for not coming clean sooner. But that paled in comparison to the sickness he felt over the unsub clearly being someone who had such personal access to you. He was certain that some of these photos dates back years. The idea that whoever was doing this had been so close to you, for so long, could’ve brought him to his knees. 

“Hotch…” JJ said, her voice accusatory. She looked up at him, face a mix of confusion and a hint of betrayal. She held up another photo and the entire team went quiet. This photo was clearly taken at a distance, but there you were looking lovingly up at a man who was certainly Hotch. 

Hotch had one hand clenched tightly on the edge of the table, taking a deep breath before he looked up at his agents staring expectantly at him.  

“I haven’t been completely honest with you all,” Hotch started, running his free hand over his face, “I met Y/N five years ago and we were together for three, until I ended things.” He was sure someone had audibly gasped at that. “I know you all may have various concerns over my proximity to the case and are valid in any anger you may feel towards me. But right now, I need to go call Y/N and make sure she’s safe.” 

Hotch didn’t give anyone a chance to reply, instead whipping out his phone and near running out the door. Leaving a team of confused and shocked agents in his wake.

-----

a/n - of course, thank you all for reading. it means the world to me! also just the quickest of shoutouts to @kylorendrip and @ssahoodrathotchner who both constantly put up with my writing complaints and all the random ideas i bounce around their dms on the daily. 

taglist - @mac99martin @iwaizumiee @kylorendrip @hqtchner @lieswithoutfairytales @ssahoodrathotchner @midsummernightdream @weasleylovers @evans-dejong @itsmytimetoodream @yoshigguk @28cnn @cuddlyklaus @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @yallgotkik @sunflowersandotherthings @alexrodriguez1269

no permission is given to copy or republish my writing on any other platform or account. if you see this story outside of my blog or my ao3 it is stolen work. i do not own nor claim to own criminal minds or any of the character involved in it.

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #hotchner #aaron hotchner x you #hotchner x reader #hotchner x you #hotch #aaron hotchner/you #aaron hotcher/reader #'stori writes #in the stars #aaron hotchner fanfiction

[lys-lilac]

Romance MD: Always on Call - Detailed Summary - Toshiki Kasumi

This section contains heavy spoilers! If you want to read and relish the story, go ahead! But if you haven’t and don’t want to, it’s okay. You can go to this link for the character analysis for now-  here

Go through the plot, laugh, cry in every episode and then come back to this section for reading my thoughts and inspiration it gave me! But, I am telling you, this is a wonderful story and you will not regret it... Alright, let’s get started.

Each chapter is carved out with such precision that it directly hits the heart. In one, I was laughing, in the next, crying, and yet in the other, appreciating the progress. It actually felt as if the player is MC itself and everything is happening in real. Honestly, this is amazing. 

There are many key-factors of the story which is different from the genre of otome games, and which fulfills many lost points in the general trend. This is what interested me the most. As I stated in the analysis post (linked in the upper description), the prologue itself satisfied the fact that there is something hidden which needs to be sorted out. 

Let’s discuss about our lives. Anyone’s behavior is based on the environment in which he/she is grown. If someone is bubbly, then that could be due to his/her cheerful environment or maybe, some situation which has nurtured him/her like this. The same goes for strict/cold ones. This piqued my interest. (Leave aside my craze for Medical science, haha...)

Now, which are the things which inspired me the most? Here are those points-

1. The knowledge the story gives- I have never gone through a story which goes through such detail in the field of surgery and medical science. I truly appreciate the amount of knowledge and the terms they provided in each chapter. Along with that, the value of relationships, family, friends is greatly shown in the work, which is so important for character development.

2. Hardwork and diligence- Can I just take one second to praise the amount of hours the surgeons are working? I am impressed to such an extent that it is beyond words to express. And this cardiovascular genius. He doesn’t even sleep...?! There are several instances for this in the story. 

  First, they hold study sessions all night and go back to work without even resting for an hour. Second, when MC brings Kasumi back from England, he straight gets to work. Third, when Kasumi had fever, he just rested for a few hours and again back to his work. He even tells MC to go back to rest, but he doesn’t (or sometimes.)...

This is just fantastic. Whenever you are just about to give up, just come to this section and read this part, I am sure you will be motivated enough to resume back. Can you believe he wrote his first medical paper on how to save a plant when he was in middle school? If he can do, then why not you? 

The same thing goes for MC. If Kasumi decided to be her mentor, that’s because she is excellent in her studies, has an good past record and praises from her previous teachers. She has this zeal to pursue surgery and ace in it. Perfectly. No compromises.

3. She loves herself- I had read a post where one player mentioned that MC was arrogant. I can understand. But, what’s the point of acting sweet and not doing anything? Instead, if you have achieved what you want to be, then you should be confident, and believe in yourself. 

I wanted to make another sub-point, but I think this point will also fit in this section. MC here is unique from other MCs in appearance. In general, the MCs that I have seen so far are extremely beautiful, with long hair, fair skin, bla bla bla. I have also read some views from other players about this. Some games should be designed in the way that they cater to the needs that the players want. Everyone is pretty, as we are the beautiful creation of God. Outer appearance doesn’t matter. What matters the most is your inner quality. Kasumi didn’t love MC because of how she looks, but because she reached out to him when he was about to get crumpled by his emotions. 

What’s more, MC doesn’t take this as consideration. Instead of overthinking about this, she appreciates the beauty of her friends, Asuka and Shirayuki. Thus, their friendship is also strongly bonded.

Okay, no more blabbering. Let’s get straight into the summary-

The story starts with MC being selected as a protege by Kasumi.

Viewpoint of MC- he doesn’t listen to her at all.

The reason why he took her as a student in cardiovascular surgery? That’s because with the developing period, technology is advancing and Kasumi wanted someone to take the department after him. Also, there was shortage of students. More, he was impressed by her high reviews in internship.

Of course, after some reluctance by her, he transfers her to the Orthopedic unit. But, after getting to know that her favorite doctor is moving on to research, she had no choice but to return back to EICU.

The guys celebrate her joining in the Pen. 

 Kasumi and MC were just about to return to the hospital, when they see a building engulfed in flames on the road.

MC is haunted by her previous memories, where a patient commits suicide by burning himself after being saved by the doctors. Meanwhile, both of them rush to the spot for treatment. 

They come back after saving a life, and MC makes Kasumi to talk to him.

Kasumi gives her support by asking her to move forward and leave her painful memories behind. All these facts, and a embrace from him make her decide to study heart.

The following morning, the dark prince assigns her more work (following the CG). Thankfully, Asuka and Shirayuki are there for support.

To gain more experience, Kasumi sends her off to Thailand.

There, she meets Theo, Kasumi’s acquaintance, and starts learning about several cases. Meanwhile, our prince also accompanies her afterwards. (I knew it...)

MC discovers a book of him which is a book of flowers. (This has major importance afterwards, so remember this.) 

Kasumi comes back and MC stays further for two weeks for gaining knowledge.

After coming back, they successfully, perform a CABG (Coronary artery Bypass Surgery). In the night, she gets a text from Kaisei, her friend during the internship. Following Sat., she meets him and his family. (and also Kasumi and Matsunaga... talk of a pure coincidence).

The next day, they have an emergency, and surprisingly, it’s Kaisei and Sora, his son. In spite of desperate efforts, Sora couldn’t be saved. This breaks MC. She couldn’t gather courage to tell that to her friend. Kasumi goes in her stead. The next day, the same scene replays in her mind and she couldn’t perform surgery. 

At last, not able to get control of her emotions, she decides to quit cardiovascular surgery.

She again goes for Ortho. But, things don’t go smooth. A patient, whom MC treated recently, collapses due to heart attack. After being turned down by the cardiovascular department, she had no choice left but to contact Kasumi.

Even if it was his day off, he agrees to come... (And the bgm when he says her not to worry... T_T)

They perform the operation successfully.

Later that night, Kaisei tells her about the frequent visits by Kasumi and how he was shaking when he declared Sora’s death to him.

Along with some push by her favorite doctor the next day, she gets determined again to return to the EICU.

Later, Kasumi invites her to watch the Belt of Venus.

Things get sorted out gradually. With more energy to do work, they decide to have a study session at Kasumi’s house. (Believe me, the before banter was hilarious! @miss-alien-pixel​ has posted it, so feel free to drop by for reference).

The next day, Dr. Neil comes back from England. With many more operations coming up, they all become busy. A case from Mrs. Kitahama also comes, where her family was reluctant for the operation, but both MC and Kasumi agree to the old lady’s wish, and perform the surgery.

 Some days later, while MC was talking to Neil, he suddenly collapses. It was only an attack, but it confirmed aortic stenosis, for which, a surgery was required.

With pressure intensifying, MC does her best to support him. She goes home with Kyogoku that day, and finds out about his late brother, the person whom Kasumi held dear to. (Please go through that part, it has so much things about him there...) 

Things get hectic later on, and there’s the part where MC has a talk with Matsunaga. (the part which was in the intro). There’s so much why Kasumi became like this. If he loved someone, he would do whatever it means to cover for them. And he let all the blame on himself, alone. 

Get ready now, a bombshell is about to drop. Dr. Kurimata returns to the hospital (who had a grudge against Kasumi for who knows how long, just because he took the surgery of Prime Minister’s wife off him. But he did that for building up Ped dept. in the hospital.)

Meanwhile, Mrs. Kitahama catches pneumonia, and after long efforts by both MC and Kasumi, she gets to have a talk with her son before passing away). Kasumi offers MC to go home to mentally recover, but she stays with him. Bad talks about him increase day by day. MC is not able to withstand that, and covers his ears, leaving him surprised. She tells her not to listen to that anymore. Hearing that, Kasumi comes closer, closer aand.... he falls asleep over her as he had fever. (cue the CG)

Bad timing, Kyogoku comes over at the same time. (and we know the volcano is about to burst now...) 

But, as if it was an illusion, Kasumi comes back to ICU after some rest. And Dr. Tsuchiya invites her out. But our dark prince saves her, saying he has plans with her later. (Pbbfft..)

Okay, so it was viewing Belt of Venus... yay!

But, an accident occurs. A speeding truck was just about to hit MC, but she gets shielded by Kasumi. Although on asking, he confirmed no injuries, but something major had occurred, to his hand. 

 As a result, he is not able to even hold a scalpel, let alone surgery. It occurs for almost 15 days. For that, he even hands over the surgery he had been working so long to Dr. Kurimata.

He doesn’t disclose this to anyone, and the other surgeries go on smoothly. He returns to the OR some days after.

MC talks with Neil about Kasumi’s study under him. 

In the meantime, Dr. Kurimata comes by and says that he is overtaking Neil’s surgery. (Speak of the devil now... Grrr)

She and Kyogoku find time to talk to Kurimata and find out the reason why all that was happening. 

And I just can’t process, it’s not Kasumi’s fault at all. Why was that doctor pestering like he was the reason!

He even says that he is using MC to get him kicked out of the case. (Enough!!) And yet, this guy was there, protecting her like anything...

This turns into an argument between Kyogoku and Kasumi. And later, MC also agrees with the former to prioritize himself first, and not love her anymore. (It was a punch to the heart, but that’s what needed to be done at that point).

she runs to the rooftop, and her tears couldn’t stop. After some time, (a huge misunderstanding is going to be here now...) Dr. Tsuchiya comes. They talk for a while about how she was about to be transferred to the cardiovascular department if something occurs.

For Kasumi’s sake, she leaves the EICU and gets under the supervision of Dr. Kurimata.

Again the rooftop. Morning. Dr. Tsuchiya and MC. (Misunderstanding is just about to occur!!)

MC probably is dizzy and was about to fall when Tsuchiya catches him. And he doesn’t let go. He confesses there. Aaand...... Kasumi arrives at that time. (GOSH! NO!)

Seeing the position, he turns on his heel and goes. 

MC at this point has confirmed already that she loves Kasumi, and she couldn’t do anything that could hurt him.

Even after so many awkward moments, I absolutely love how Kasumi is normal with her every time in the talk... 

He tells that he is going to attend a symposium in England. (Doesn’t it sound fishy...?)

Before leaving, he visits Neil during night, praying to stay with him. MC doesn’t interrupt and leaves quietly.

With Kasumi now not there, MC takes the responsibility of Neil’s surgery. It is a success. They further talk about Kasumi after some days. Neil unveils that the flower book was an artwork by Kasumi’s mother. 

The flower snowdrop has a great importance here. This flower is the symbol of hope, but whoever have it, like his mother and Mitsuharu, instead of getting better, left him. And he had come to believe that this flower had an omen of death. That his love caused them to suffer more and die. (That flashback... I am unable to stop my tears even now as I am typing...)

As this dawns on MC, she waits for him eagerly to come back, so that she could sort out everything that happened. But he never returns.

MC sets out to bring him back. After a long search, she finds him in the same park that he had mentioned earlier, talking to a flower... (ugh...)

He is normal, but a little cold this time. MC hugs him from behind and says how worried everyone was. But he just asks to let go of him. (I really thought that he was hurt to such an extent that he decided to leave...)

MC confesses there, and let go of him, when he turns around, and with a pathetic look on his face says,

(That face. Oh my God.)

Cue the third CG. MC hugs him back and comforts him.

After they come back to Japan, things go on as normal. Until one day, Neil requires an immediate surgery due to getting hit on the chest.

All the doctors, join in for the operation. Kurimata lashes out at Kasumi for the death of Mitsuharu. 

MC steps in forward, and says that Kasumi will not let Neil die. They all conduct a successful operation.

The EICU guys gather during the night at Pen to celebrate the returning of Kasumi and MC. 

Kasumi suddenly pulls MC somewhere. And it’s for watching the Belt of Venus. They share a sweet moment there, where Kasumi confesses, asks her to stay with him as she was his only hope, and the story ends, WITH ME CRYING LIKE CRAZY.

(Sweeter than honey, sugar...)

Final Thoughts:

This character!!! God! I am in cloud nine now!!! He went to that extent to protect MC. He was unable to share his hidden feelings with anyone, and now, he could do that. I became very happy when he hugged MC, crying. It symbolized that he was already relying on her, trusting her. Both are genius doctors, both save lives, and both helped each other at times. Along with that, the other doctors’ support was so precious. Their little banters, feeding time, sweet lines Kasumi says and so on, every moment was perfect. The writers did a fantastic job over this one. Overall, a 1000% recommendation! 

If you have reached upto here, first of all, thank you so much for going through my blabbering, and I couldn’t help that. As my hands were unable to stop thinking about this beautiful masterpiece. This will remain my no.1 romance story, no. 1 otome game with my most favorite male and female protagonist!

Thanks for reading! Have a productive week ahead!

Bonus: I just had this in my mind... 

Yui: Uh... What is it, Dr. Kasumi?

Yui: You could expect that after my constant gluing to this article for a while now... Well, did I do a good job? 

Yui: (...how come his smiles are so pure?)

Yui: ...Guardian angel, I did mistakes right? That’s why you are laughing till now... :(

Yui: ! ( I am so happy!)

Yui: Let’s hope people also like it, okay? after all, I poured my heart into it!

Kasumi: mm-hmm.

~Lys

#romance md #Romance MD Always on Call #love 365 #lys's thoughts #surprisingly #my hands are not hurting... #MC I have your powers now! #munechika takado #tetsuya hosho #sentaro kyogoku #kaede ekuni #dean matsunaga #toshiki kasumi #100恋+ #100シーンの恋+ #voltage inc.

[skyeofloxlay]

Personality / Brief history / important things about MC / Reader for my fanfics or when I make requests.

Okay, I decided to do this more for myself when I make a request to someone, but this is also useful to let you know a little more about the MC / "reader" of my fanfics.

The MC is a cis-woman of almost 1.60cm in height, (age may vary) but generally the age will be between 20 and 23. She is heterosexual/straight (I don't know if there is a difference between the two things, but I don't understand why I would have two words for the same thing) and usually in fanfics she has never had a boyfriend before the character she will be together with (be it Jake (Duskwood), Jason (Todd), Spencer (Reid) or any other character). 

She was born in Brazil and lived a large part of her life there, and depending on what story she is in, she makes an interchange trip abroad because of college, and because of that she lives far from her family and lives alone, but she has her faithful companion, a male Schnauzer dog (his name in fanfics is undetermined.)

MC has always been a lonely person, because after several events in the past she does not trust people easily, and the only people she does trust are her family, but she still has trouble talking about her problems to them.

Furthermore, MC is a very shy, introverted, anti-social person and suffers from social phobia, which of course, is a perfect combo to be an alien in society and not be able to make friends, even if she wants to.

MC also doesn't know where it all started from, but she does know that she has probably suffered from anxiety for many, many years, even though she only discovered it a short time ago, and went to get help even less time ago.

Because of anxiety, she ends up being stuck in her own world, or I should call it, hell itself. Her mind is a mess, bad, unreal and meaningless thoughts invade her mind all the time, and because she has been this way for so long without help and not knowing what to do, her situation has worsened to the point where her anxiety starts to change into a depressive anxiety.

However, as much as she has been suffering with her own mind for years, she can always count on her family whenever she needs them, even if they are distant from each other, they are inseparable. 

Her father, as much as he doesn't understand most of the things she goes through, supports her and wants the best for MC, and so he does what he can to help MC pay for psychological treatment, and even though he doesn't understand, he always makes her smile and laugh, even when the situations are bad, even though he was always busy because of work, he always did what he could to be together, even in the simplest things, like family lunch, playing video games, watching movies, shopping together.

Her mother, on the other hand, has been through similar things like MC, and always try to help her the way she can, always speaking encouraging words, helping MC to do her things when she couldn't, sleeping next to the MC when she couldn't sleep because of anxiety, always being by her side, always supporting any decision, no matter the situation, MC's mom will always be there to hear her, either to hear about something that MC wants to do a lot or when she has some fear. 

And there is also her younger brother (3 years younger), as much as they ended up arguing for silly things, he is her best friend, maybe her only true friend, always having fun together doing what they like, protecting each other, always being one for another, even when it was not known which words were right to say.

MC is blessed to have such an amazing family, and as much as she couldn't say "I love you, you are everything to me" to them, she loved them with all her heart and soul, and she couldn't say what would happen to her if she lost them, but probably something really bad would happen.

As much as it seemed that MC doesn't care about other people, maybe looking selfish and boring to others, she cares a lot about others, but she knows that this is also one of the big reasons why she suffers from anxiety, caring for others more than for herself, and for her own mental health, she had to try not to think so much about the problems of the world that she cannot solve. 

Some people may think that she was wrong in doing this, but she wanted to have some sanity, even if little and trying to recover, than to go crazy with things that are impossible to fix, at least impossible for her to fix.

(Some other things about MC, but now simpler, because I'm out of time and too lazy, help me)

- Very distracted

- Very clumsy

- Nerd

- Dreamer / lost in her own world

- Impulsive

- Impatient

- Think too much about everything

- Studious

- Lonely

- Forgotten

- Problems with deadlines, do everything at the last minute.

- Avoid fights / arguments with people she doesn't know, but if it's someone close and it's a silly fight, she'll defend that she's right until the end, if she's wrong in the fight, she'll just be quiet for a while. If it is a serious fight, she will argue for some time until the tears stop her from continuing, and then she will be silent for a long time.

- Too stubborn

- Sarcastic with the closest people

- Always try to look for the good in people, but it is impossible for her to achieve kindness in certain people.

- Pessimistic

- Very sensitive / hurts / cries easily

- Perfectionist

- Very insecure

- She cannot express in words what she feels for other people

Likes:

Chocolate

Coffee

Rainy days

Winter

Music (Mainly, pop and  rock)

To drive

Flowers

Taking pictures (mainly of landscapes)

Animals

Old things, like things related to the 60s, 70s, 80s and 90s, or things from centuries ago

History

Books

Learn things

Horror stuff (games, books, movies)

Mystery

Horseback riding

Nature

Farms

See the city lights at night

Night

Games (both video games and board / cards)

Comics, Movies, Series etc about Superheroes

Mexican food

Travel

Psychology / Understanding the human mind

Buy drawing materials and books (even though she will never use / read them)

Big clothes

Wind

Ride a bike

Explore Abandoned Places

Dislikes:

Summer

Hot days

Insects

Spiders

Her mind

Who annoy her

People fighting

See things or people comment on things related to death or illness

Having to be patient

Who speak ill of her family

Working in a group

That people belittle her feelings

Parties

People

Delays

Alcoholic beverages

Buy clothes

Make up

High heels

Short dresses

Physics

Fears / Phobias / Things that bother her:

Spiders

Falling / High height

To drown

Die

Getting seriously ill

Dark / Night

To sleep

People

Speak in public

Losing her family

Stay alone

Crowds

Closed places

Tight clothes (Because she feels they are suffocating her)

Arrive late

Forget things

Having a car accident

Never be loved / Stop being loved

Future

May her fears come true

Skills:

- To draw

- Write

- Cook

- Game programming 

- Sing

- Play keyboard and guitar

- To compose

- To dance

Hobbies:

Basically, it's her skills + reading + playing video games + taking pictures of the landscape.

Job:

Usually she either works as a waitress in a coffee shop or works in a supermarket (working at the checkout or replacing products on shelves)

As much as many find it strange, MC is very happy in her work, and does not mind working in "simple" jobs (basically jobs that earn little), and as much as she doesn't have much money, just enough to live reasonably well, she is happy with what she has and doesn't care about the money.

College: 

She studies digital game design

I think that's it, there are some other things that I only do when I'm writing specific situations, for example, MC's opinions on certain subjects, and honestly I don't have time at the moment to make the MC's different opinions, and just say that she tries to be as neutral as she can, because she knows that extremes are never good, and that when asked which side she is in a situation (depending on what it is, but usually she says), she says doesn't have a side because it doesn’t identify herself by either side, because both are extreme, and this usually leads people to think that it’s on the fence, but it’s not like that, it’s more or less. "You were teleported to a place, there are two paths, one on the right and the other on the left, at the beginning of each of these paths there is a person, each talking about their paths and talking about why their path is the best of than the other and why you should follow their path. And then you must make a choice of which path to follow " But MC does not agree with either side, and will not wait there to see which side gives her the best benefit as many would do, she goes there and moves on, where there is no path, where there is no one, because she doesn't want to be on anyone's side, she wants to make her own opinions, and not follow what a group is saying. 

Oh, and one of the philosophies she follows is of yin and yang, which says something like "There is good and there is evil, both need each other to exist, there is no good without evil, and no there is evil without good, and that nothing can be completely good or evil, since, however small, there is evil in good, and there is good in evil. "

Some phrases she would say:

"You can say anything about me, but don't come and talk about my family"

"I can't always do it, but I always try to be balanced, because I know that nothing comes out of extremism, no matter which side."

"I'm a Christian, I may not have proofs but I believe in God, but I don't believe everything in the Bible because it was made by humans, and I know that many of them used and still use people's faith to do very bad things . "

"Sorry, but I suck at remembering names, in fact, I suck at remembering."

"Shit, I knew I was forgetting something."

"I hate logic, most of these things don't make any sense!"

"At least I have you with me here DN" (DN = dog name)

"There is nothing that is not so bad that it cannot get worse"

"I think I celebrated too soon"

"I sleep! But no matter what I do, I will be forever sleepy!"

"No matter what I do, my thoughts disturb me from the moment I wake up until bedtime, and even while I'm asleep. And it happens every day."

"Sometimes ... I think ... people would be better off if I didn't exist. I just hinder and hurt people." 

"I don't know when or how it started, I just know that I have been scared forever"

"I don't do it because I want to! It's not my fault if I'm easily distracted"

"I think writing is the only way to say what I feel"

"Yes, I know, I'm crazy, you don't have to tell me that"

"I'm not a normal person. Maybe I'm not even a human? What if I'm an alien and I don't know? A synthetic human? A robot with high artificial intelligence that is identical to that of humans?"

"I don't like to be afraid, but I love to see and read horror stuff."

"I love old things, they are so fascinating"

"What day is it today?"

"I just wanted to have a little courage that other people have"

"I have no hope of anything, as always, every time I had hope, very bad things happened, close people and pets died when I had hope that they would survive. For me, hope has long since died."

"I think, in a way, I am a miracle, just like my brother. I mean, it was almost impossible for my mom to have a baby, and look, here I am."

"I'm not cute!"

"I'm not short, I'm average height, it's the rest of the people who are very tall"

(Maybe I wrote a lot? Did I overdo it?)

Sorry if there is something confusing or errors in English 

#I don't know what to put here

[musesofolive]

Ahh I have been posting a lot today, I’m sure you’re all waiting for me to shut up lol. But not right now! Now that I think of the multi-muse house in my head and how my beloved oc’s are just like living in the place like they’re all roommates, I wanna explore that a lil bit.

Isla:

She is pretty much the closest thing to the mom of the house. She may not be the oldest, but she is the most emotionally and mentally mature for sure. Which, she constantly finds amusing considering Rowan is there and is her older sibling, but I digress! She’s the one who’s got the house set up on a system that works, who’s cleaning what room, who’s getting the dishes, who’s washing the laundry. She settles any disputes that come up in the house that may lead to violence, and she’s always the best shoulder to lean on when you’re not feeling the greatest.

She’s the natural leader of the house and everyone tends to trust her, there’s no one she really dislikes or doesn’t get along with. She gets along well with everyone, but mostly with Ciri and Rowan since she’s known them the longest. She tends to treat Nova like she’s her daughter, is always glad to have Sahar’s level headedness, and does appreciate Riley’s laidback ways.

Ciri:

She definitely keeps things the most lively in the house. She’s an agent of chaos, what can she say? Once she flies into the room, any hope of the atmosphere staying quiet is completely ruined. But she does have a habit for putting people in a good mood...most of the time, when she’s not pranking them or they’re not next to her room where they can constantly hear her singing. She can be more serious and stick to rules if she sees Isla getting overwhelmed though, but that’s really the only scenario where she loses her goofiness.

Isla and Nova are the ones she sticks by the most, with Rowan falling closely behind those two. She knows that they’ll enable her chaos whenever she decides to cause it. Riley is next after that because he’s just so easy to get with pranks, and it’s super funny teasing him, especially when he thinks his flirting is getting him literally anywhere. Sahar she doesn’t stick around too much, she gets the sense that the soldier can’t tolerate too much of her shenanigans and so for Isla’s sake, she leaves her be for the most part. But Sahar does tend to stop by to listen to Ciri’s songs when they’re not too bombastic.

Nova:

I love my girl, and it’s because I love her that I tend to deem her the emotionally wounded teen of the house. She’s not an actual teenager and she doesn’t act like one really, but Nova has been the most emotionally and physically scarred out of all them and has not had the time to heal any of it over yet, like the other roommates. So, she sticks to herself a lot. She used to only come down for meals and stay holed up in her room, but Ciri eventually wouldn’t have any of that and dragged her out from time to time. That came to the agreement that Nova will spend time with some of them outside of meals so long as Ciri stops busting her door down and dragging her by the arm. But for the most part she just follows the rules set and keeps her head down.

Ciri is the one she hangs around most, not entirely by choice, but she is the one she’s most familiar with so it’s better than a stranger in her opinion. After that is the Comerde siblings. Isla is very comforting, warm and treats her nicely. And she helps in such subtle ways so that Nova doesn’t have to feel embarrassed for asking for help. So when it comes to who she likes Isla actually sorta takes the cake. As for Rowan, they’re quiet and don’t usually ask too many questions. So, when Ciri and the others get way too overbearing, she rolls up to their room and just vibes with them while they read or do work, it’s a very mutually beneficial thing. Sahar’s not too far behind, she’s a bit too intense sometimes for Nova to vibe with her properly like she does with Rowan, but she’s helpful in getting her anger out, and helps her get better at self defense which makes her feel safer and less like she needs to lash out constantly. And then there’s...Riley. She does not like Riley. A. He’s a human man. B. She knows all the charm and flirting is just a facade, and she hates it. She doesn’t like people being fake with her, because then it reminds her of Dorian and makes her wonder what they’re really hiding. Also he’s way too touchy for her liking. Everything about him just rubs her the wrong way so she tends to stay away from him, and if she can’t, then those two are going to get into a fight.

Rowan:

They are simultaneously one of the chillest and one of the strictest in the house. Which makes no sense, but it’s true. Like, no, go ahead, do whatever you want, as long as you’re not bothering them, they really don’t care. But also, if they catch you not doing your chores or not following the rules, they will harp on you subtley like no tomorrow. They helped design the system set up actually, and they tend to supervise how it goes, suggesting different things to try to Isla when they notice something that can be improved. They sorta tried to take over as leader of the house since they believed they could run it better...yeah that lasted about a week before they handed that title back to Isla with a shake of their head. This group is nothing like their tribe, they just can’t. So, instead they’re like Isla’s left hand, enforcing the rules and keeping the peace from the shadows...but also not, because they are an enabler of chaos at their core. Not an agent, but if someone is looking to fix up some good natured mischief, they will gladly help and sit back and watch it all unfold. But usually they’re either in their room or in the library, working on papers for the trading business to send back to their father.

The Skywings are the two they get along with best, but for different reasons. Ciri creates glorious chaos while still following the rules, and they find that absolutely immaculate as they do whatever they feel like to help her. Nova is quiet and precisely what they need when they get into one of their “I’m surrounded by idiots” moods. Isla comes next, there are worse people, and she is still family. When they’re homesick they spend more time than usual with her, just to be reminded that there is still a piece of home with them. Sahar and Riley come afterwards. Not that they really dislike anyone here, if they don’t like them, then they have a neutral disposition at most. Sahar is just neutral territory because they’re very alike in some aspects, but she also shares some of Torin’s traits. It’s like an amalgamation of them and they find it interesting. And Riley is also someone who causes mischief, which they like, but also, they just...cannot deal with the flirtiness. Like at all, it flusters them way too much. If they are with Riley, it has to be in a group setting because otherwise they’ll just be blushing like no tomorrow at Riley’s endless flirting and charm.

Sahar:

If Isla’s the designated mom, Sahar is oddly enough sort of like the dad. She respects Isla and her desicions greatly, and enforces them more directly than Rowan does. She is Isla’s right hand woman for sure. She makes sure everyone is safe physically since that’s her better strong suit as a guard/soldier, she lets Isla handle the emotional aspects. She’s also the one to break up any fights physically, she’s tall and strong, it’s what she’s good at. She usually spends time in the training room, especially when she’s worked up, but honestly she makes her rounds to just about every room in that house that isn’t someone’s bedroom. She likes knowing the layout.

She prefers Isla’s company more than anyone else’s. The elf is just one of the few she doesn’t have to be all soldier-face with (and Isla is 100% teaching her how to dance. Sahar wasn’t convinced she’d be any good at it, but Isla’s proving her wrong.) and genuinely feels like she can be relaxed around. They respect Rowan’s professionalism and regards for the rules, even if they do let mischief happen. She feels both pity and admiration for Nova, she has clearly gone through things that would probably kill weaker people. And she wants to let her know that her battle is over, there’s no more need to keep fighting and it’s time to heal. But, words aren’t always her strong suit, so she tries to express that with how she spends her time with the young elf. She finds Ciri annoying and troublesome, but in a good way, if that makes sense. She’s like both a pesky hummingbird that keeps flitting around her face, but also reminds her of her brothers so she doesn’t mind it. So, she tolerates the Skywing so long as she doesn’t get herself into too much trouble. She tolerates Riley the least. They’re just two very different people. Sahar is about upholding the law and protecting others and being selfless, Riley is a con man who is selfish and literally only thinks about himself. Plus he’s committed crimes in her very country. Safe to say, opposites do not attract this time around. She’s much more no-nonsense with him than anyone else.

Riley:

I feel so bad but this one just like...gets picked on mercilessly. He is constantly bullied in this household, but not in a way that’s genuinely like upsetting just, teased a lot so that he can learn and get character development. And I promise the others aren’t treating him too badly and Isla always steps in if she feels everyone needs to lay off. That woman is basically Riley’s saving grace because she’s the only one who doesn’t pick on him. Not to say others don’t enjoy his presence on occasion, he didn’t learn his people skills for nothing after all, he’s usually one of the bigger talkers at the table and keeps the atmosphere nice and light. Either with his skills, or by being the comic relief. He’s starting to get fond of libraries all things considered, so he does find himself there often. And if he’s not there, he’s usually in the game room fiddling with some pool or playing cards. If he can rope the others into joining him, he’ll play some poker or just generally a game or two. And the bar, that man loves his alcohol.

Isla and Rowan are at the top of his list. Isla, for being the motherly saint she is and constantly getting the others to stop bullying him, plus she’s the only one who can in all actuality, handle him. She plays along with his games without ever actually losing, and she never gets boring to talk to. Which surprised him, because she’s one of the most sentimental, family-oriented people he knows. He didn’t think he’d ever get along with someone like her, but she’s just that inviting. And then there’s Rowan, again another family-oriented type. But he knows he started liking them because they fluster so easily at his flirting. He does love to get under people’s skin and tease them. Plus, for as family-oriented as they seem to be, they care in a very sensible way. And when he’s at the bar, usually drunk, he wonders if he could have ever been like them had he been with a proper family. He doesn’t really dislike Sahar, so much as he is just...frightened of her. Like, every time she looks at him, he can just tell she’s imagining putting his head on a pike or something. He’s very happy there’s a no fighting truce in that house, otherwise he’d have fled that house so fast to avoid getting either murdered or brought to jail for so many years by her. And Ciri and Nova are tied for the ones he dislikes the most. Ciri’s got an annoying habit of pranking him, and it sucks because nothing he ever does seem to get under her skin, he’s tried everything. But there’s nothing that does the trick, but she gets under his skin so easily and it drives him crazy. He only approves of her mischief from afar, and he hates that she constantly makes up little tunes that mock him. And then there’s Nova, and he was a little surprised. He didn’t think he’d ever end up liking her, sure, but like the animosity she shows him for literally no reason just astounds him. There’s nothing he can do to rectify it either. Everytime he tries it just gets worse, and he hates working with people he can’t control at least a little. That, and I mean, the guy is 40, she’s 25, the difference in mentality just makes them even less likely to enjoy the other’s presence. He’s constantly saying “who do you think you’re talking to, little girl? Hasn’t anyone told you to respect your elders?” To which she always snaps back “I’m an elf, you crusty bag of bones! Just because I look younger than you, doesn’t mean I am! And there’s hardly anything to respect from someone who’s an outlaw in every nation they can hide in!” Like just...keep them away from each other. The insults are funny at first, but it’s not long before someone makes a move to attack or say words that are going to cut too deep.

#ooc #musings #all muses #Riley #Sahar #Rowan #Nova #Isla #Ciri #multi-muse house

[sinnhelmingr]

tell me about heldolin possible reconcilliation? // @usedhearts​

rubs my filthy little gay hands together. oh yeah baby talk complicated wlw to me--

So, the groundwork for this hypothetical: Our little AU for 3, where Gwyndolin is saved from her canonical fate by a daring rescue on the part of her ex-wife. The two have been distant for some decades, ranging from cool hostility to open disregard, but with that underlying air of disappointment lacing every interaction. There’s nothing to salvage, but Hel’s not the kind of person that can leave anyone to what was planned, regardless of their interpersonal issues. One fraught road trip through enemy territory until they reach safety later...

Well there’s a lot to work through. First being Lin’s lingering trauma surrounding her captivity. Her we get the first hints of reconciliation in Hel’s refusal to let her deal with it alone. Yes, Gwynevere can help, and yes, her realm is safe and offers whatever support the wayward queen requires, but no one here saw it. No one here understood what the Valley had become. Even if they have lingering disagreements, Hel is the one sleeping on the floor of Lin’s chamber rather than in her own bed, because she can’t stand to think of someone she once cared for dealing with all of this alone. It helps, in some way, because Lin does need someone there and is going through it trying to cope.

Every possible reconciliation attempt proceeds from there. Hel has gone through, well, hell and back to save Lin and is still devoted to making sure she’s safe, but it’s not romantic. It’s honestly just Hel doing what she perceives as the right thing. Whether it helps or not, or her role could be filled by anyone else Lin cared for, it doesn’t matter because she’s the one there. And like it or not, she’s not going anywhere. From this, we have a variety of options but the two I personally see working out are these: 

Lin coming to rely on that, sort of clinging to Hel even if not literally. When not dealing with any official business regarding the ongoing political nightmare, she might drift towards Hel, wherever she is within the palace. 

Alternatively, given the mood of most of their interactions post-divorce, there’s a chance it starts as resentment. That Lin can’t stand to be in her shadow, clinging to her in the daylight when her struggles are easier to bear. 

Either way, the two are at least within physical proximity to one another, given Lin’s mental health and coping skills. Which is, inevitably, going to lead to a lot more run ins with her nephew.

Hel in a lot of ways has come to care for Lothric as if he were her own, because my God someone has to love that kid beyond his brother. Someone has to care about his wellbeing. He’s irreverent and he’s anxious and he’s struggling but determined to keep going, hardly the pious saint of the royal family’s propaganda. His wit is sharp and at times cruel, and he’s unsure about a lot of things but trying to hide that fact. Lin’s going to have to, through watching Hel interact with him, accept that her nephew is in fact more than a sacrifice -- for now. I think it’s Lin showing initiative to defrost ice queen around Lothric is going to start changing Hel’s demeanor towards her as well.

Like that’s not to say Lin changing overnight to team ‘hey yeah let’s not roast a living person with autonomy who never had a chance to live!’ is what it would take. That’d be unrealistic and OOC. I think it’s just. Hel being able to see that Lin can set aside her pride or stubbornness just long enough to get to know her sacrificial lamb as a person, as something more than what the rest of the world makes him by hers and Nev’s design. Lin defrosts to Lothric, Hel defrosts to Lin. It’s equivalent.

I think that would be the tipping point to sort of lessen the feeling of obligation between them. Maybe they can finally start talking again like people who are on at least civil terms, if not outright friendly. In my head it plays a little like their initial childhood interactions where Lin is reticent but observant and Hel is the more daring of them. She leads, and for a time, to a certain degree, Lin follows. And during the course of the narrative, as the latter grows stronger, as she acclimates herself to life outside of a cage, Hel starts to back off more and more. 

Maybe Lin won’t need her so much now, maybe things will go back to normal. And instead, Lin still leaves the door open between them, as it were. Just because she’s no longer so reliant on Hel doesn’t mean she wants her gone. 

Or maybe she tries to keep her distance if she’s still fighting against certain imminent realizations. Maybe she tries to shut the door but finds, as always, Hel has a key and she just. Accepts it over time. It’s her choice whether to come and go, just as she can choose to tell her to leave. 

Another vital step in their potential reconciliation is that it not be built upon reliance or obligation -- now they can see each other as relative equals.

By this point Hel’s been doing everything short of actually saying the words to convey she’s not stopped loving Lin. Even if she doesn’t realize it, there’s no other way people can take her actions. For Lin, I don’t know if it’s that simple but we can talk it out next time you’re online because Christ I’ve been typing this so long the weekend is over and you are back at work. The vibe I get from your Lin is that even if she cares she’s daddy’s girl and stubborn as hell once she’s been hurt. She’s either unsure or unwilling to convey that she’d like to patch things up. Which is valid, she’s been through a lot, there’s so much to work through before she even thinks of romance ever again. She’s especially been through the loss of her daughter, and that bond comes before anything else.

(Sidenote for those who are not privy to our discord lore: Let’s put a pin in the fact that at present Lothric has decided his salvation lies in overriding his mother’s decision to just lock him in the kiln once he’s ‘ready.’ He’s seen how Hel can influence his aunt and said ‘Yes, of course, I have to Parent Trap them into a reconciliation and then Hel will convince Aunt Gwyndolin I deserve to live and Mother won’t have any allies left!’ All the while his primary lackey is just questioning what version of the Parent Trap he saw because that’s not the plot at all-- /j. Anyway there’s three idiots -- two princes and a physician -- out here trying to play matchmaker despite the fact none of them have any romantic experience. This can only end well.)

I feel like the real test is going to be whether distance makes the heart grow fonder. Hel’s got other responsibilities out there, and once assured Lin is in a more stable place, that others will be there for her in a way that helps, she has to take care of them. She has to be with her own people, has to make sure they are safe, keep an eye on the world beyond. She’s gone like a thief in the night, and Lin has to learn how to navigate the world without her, furthering the balancing act between them returning to normal. Hel rode off on her big black horse and no one cna say for sure when she’ll be back. She comes and goes through the kingdom like a storm, staying just long enough to cause problems but gone with the slightest shift in atmosphere. The horse comes back only weeks later. Its rider does not. Instead, perched upon that black stallion is a familiar crossbreed, tattered but hanging in there.

Hel saved her, at the cost of her own freedom. What can Lin possibly think about that?

So it’s a flurry of Lin campaigning for her sister to send a party to save Hel, Nev saying that she can’t do it yet, possibly as she is is too busy with the fracturing of her own kingdom to lend the men. All the same, she forbids Lin from going off and doing something drastic. Tells her younger sister to stay with her daughter and help Yorshka heal. She needs it. Which works bc we have that big dramatic Hel returning to the castle drenched in blood and falling cinematically into Lin’s arms. It’s the drama these wlw deserve. 

And as we know, Lin insists on being Hel’s own caretaker while she recovers. To the point she scrutinizes every move Lothric’s physician makes in checking that the newly returned Death isn’t badly injured. Lothric thinks he stays winning because now Lin’s doing the same ‘demonstrate love but don’t speak it’ bullshit that Hel is so adept at. He’s buying his physician drinks after this despite her protests that alcohol does not sit well with her--

Hel eventually recovers enough from the strenuous battle and escape to start moving around the castle more. She confesses that, despite gossip saying this was some act of passion to show her devotion, she didn’t do this for Lin. She did it because it was the right thing to do, because Yorshka was in danger, and it had nothing to do with her mother. Something that breaks Lin’s shell completely because it proves Hel is still the woman she fell in love with. She didn’t risk her life and return the one Lin loves the most as a hollow token meant to win her heart again, she did it because her conscience has never steered her wrong. 

Now try this one on for size: One day it dawns on Hel that something is missing. She tears up her room seeking it only for Lin to finally be That Bitch and hold out her exes wedding pendant -- one she found that Hel never stopped wearing, if the fact it was still around her throat when Lin stripped her of her bloody dress is any indication. Hel’s been found out. Lin’s about to start asking some serious questions.

And if one of them can finally confess at this point that whether the love stopped or never did they feel it now just as they did before, that’s not the end. That’s not reconciliation. Because the fact remains that they broke up over an act that Hel considered pure evil, when Lin helped decide the ultimate fate of Lothric. Reconciliation is going to depend wholly on how AU we want to go, if Hel and the revived Artorias are able to convince Lin that this is heinous and even if it is what her father would have wanted, it isn’t right, it makes her just as terrible as he was. If Lin can finally see to reason or at least sentiment over legacy and duty, then I can see the pair moving towards actual reconciliation and spending at least the last days of a dying world together and at peace with their ultimate fates. If not... Oof. There might be other ways to make it work once Lothric goes rogue and says he won’t be kindling, if Lin can admit that yes, that means all the cruelty was for nothing and she was wrong (like her sister does), then maybe some slowburn reconciliation could take place.

But ultimately it’s going to depend on both character development on Lin’s part, whether by choice or in spite of resistance, and Hel proving that all the things Lin has accused her of (changing, being untrue, being corrupted by heresies) are untrue. Changing and steadfast characterization in tandem. Barely even friends (after the divorce) then somebody bends unexpectedly--

#howl at the moon i'll come for you [GWYNDOLIN/HEL] #i can no longer close my eyes while the world around me dies [V: DARK SOULS] #usedhearts #THIS IS A NOVEL FSDAGSGD

[perpetuelledaydreaming]

Back to you (Chapter VI)

Summary:  Y/N Stark and Peter Parker are unconditionally and irrevocably in love with each other, being friends for years was just the step before making it official. BUT, just the weekend they did, Thanos and the snap happened, leaving Y/N broken: without friends, avengers family or Peter Parker. So, she has to move on, at least that’s what everyone’s telling her and she really tries to do it and who better to help her than Harry Osborn. But, has she really let Peter go? What if Tony Stark -genius, billionaire, playboy, and philanthropist- knows how to bring Peter back? And what happens when he does? Is Y/N going to avenge again? Who’s going to lead the avengers now? Who is she going to choose? Harry or Peter? and who the hell is mysterio? *He doesn’t even go here

word count: 10.5k

author’s note: May was a really hard month for me and with everything that’s happening in the world, I didn’t even know if I should be writing? It seemed so pointless. But here we are anyway, it helps my mental health and that’s why I was so late with this chapter. I was going to make it longer but I think we covered our foundation here. Anyway, please if you are in USA be careful with everything that’s happening and I’ve been seeing some resources on instagram. I’ll try to post more here or on insta

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“A pleasure to see you, Stark” Nick Fury stated as you shook his hand with a stone face. 

It wasn’t that you didn’t like Nick Fury, Tony, and Steve trusted him and in consequence, you did as well -at least the majority of the time-. He was the one that had brought them together but also with the fall of SHIELD, it wasn’t like before. Either way, you knew he was going to be part of this and you complied because you needed all the support that you could find to get the avengers together again. 

“So, what’s this about?”, you asked as you turned back to see an old Steve sitting down in the conference room already. 

It had been two weeks since the funeral and the world was going back to normal again, clearly as best as anyone possibly could. For you, it had been a busy couple of weeks with your non-profit and trying to figure out how to decipher Tony’s USB. The days you spent at the office were chaotic while the nights you spend them at your lab restlessly trying to find what Tony had left for you. 

No one knew about the USB, it simply remained between Strange, you, and H.A.P.P.Y while you tested every possible combination to unlock it but your efforts have been in vain. Regarding your non-profit, relocating the children to their parents had been a rather a bitch of a process. The protocol that your volunteers had designed, which was overall great and easier, had been hijacked by the government that decided to intervene and just add more paperwork and more time; which annoyed you because kids wanted to be with their parents and this was just another way of keeping them apart. 

Thankfully, Pepper and Harry had been helping you deal with everything and tried to see a foreseeable future for the non-profit and their facilities on the east and west coast. The facilities were still useful for kids that were in foster care of the kids who had lost their parents regardless of the snap, therefore, Pepper had managed to snatch a meeting with the president to discuss a possible alliance to keep the facilities working with their help. 

Truth was that you felt better if the government gave you a hand, it had been a full-time work for you and now it didn’t seem possible to handle it all since you wanted to go to University. Stark Industries would permanently have a percentage; after the sale, it would be smaller than the one the government had but the non-profit would keep working and that was your main goal. 

It was the only reason you had to agree to meet with Fury at the moment because you knew that now you would have the time and it wasn’t difficult to foresee what he wanted from you. 

“You need to be the new head of the Avengers, Y/N”, Steve finally said with a stern look. 

It was hard to see Steve as an old man when you had spent the majority of your life seeing him as this strong, young superhero that could have the mannerisms of a really old person. It was fun to make jokes about it and everyone did it, sure, you had picture Steve just like this for a Halloween someday but now it was too real. In all honesty, you didn’t want to judge his decision but somehow it pained you that he hadn’t chosen to stay with you and help you in this transition. Yes, he was there but not like before and it felt like you had been left alone by the other most important person in your life. 

“What about Sam or Bucky?”, you asked. “They are older”

“They became fugitives after SHIELD crashed down”, Fury explained. “We need you”

You knew it. You knew that neither Bucky or Sam were approved by the government and it annoyed you to the core because Sam was the best option along with you but now it wasn’t possible thanks to a couple of white old men in suits that didn’t know how was it out there.

“I saw this coming”, you sighed as your eyes connected with Steve’s. “Isn’t it too soon?”

“The world is going to look up to you since your father saved the universe”, Fury answer, and you turned around to watch him walk silently. “It’s up to you to keep the Avengers alive”

You remained quiet for a few seconds. The guilt and the burden swinging over your head as the words of Fury stuck in your head while you watched him. 

It was up to you and although you had tried to escape it and have a little peace of mind the last few weeks it was an irreversible fact that you were in charge now, whether you liked it or not. Pepper had let you go back with her to the cabin and she had tried not to push it, but the talk was brought up either way.  

…

“You do know you don’t have to do it if you don’t want to”, Pepper said as she brought you your cup of tea while you sat in front of the fireplace. 

“Thank you”, you answer softly as you took the cup in your hands, warming them. “The way I see it, I don’t have many options now that Steve made his choice”

She sipped on her coffee as she watched you carefully. Her eyes gleaming with fear, you knew she didn’t want this for you and neither did Tony, that’s why they try to avoid it as much as they could but now you were at this crossroad. It was even harder now to accept this new burden considering how your father’s story had turned out. 

“I mean it, y/n”, Pepper insisted, her voice stern making you turned around completely to face her. “You don’t have to do this. Tony and I once hope that you would be the CEO of Stark Industries, that you could leave that life behind.”

“Pepper…”

“Y/N, I don’t know if you realize this but you are not Tony,” Pepper said, as she placed a hand over yours. “Your father, because of who he was didn’t have a choice, but you do.” 

You shook your head. 

“But I am like him”, you said quietly as you took Pepper’s hand into yours. “I can’t brush off his legacy and you know how much I wanted this since I was a kid”

“You also wanted to run Stark Industries like me”, Pepper said as she raised her brows. “But avenging, it can’t be your whole life”

“And I still want to”, you assured her. “I know it can’t and I don’t want to live as Nat or Steve did, I just don’t want to let dad down. I feel like everyone knows it’s on me”

Pepper remained quiet for a few moments and she sighed, she squeezed your hand as her gaze went to the fireplace in front of you. 

“You are not letting him down Y/N, you could never do that and I know what you mean because Tony felt somehow the same and that’s why he fought so hard”, Pepper replied quietly, she sucked in a breath as she turned around to watch you again and gave you a soft smile. “I’ll try to be okay with any decision you make, but I want you to still go to university as you had planned before, your life can’t be on hold anymore”

“You know I want to go; you don’t have to ask me that. I started sending my applications after what happened”, you said as you took a sip of your tea. “Thank you for understanding”

“I dealt with your dad for a long time, I know better”, Pepper said with a chuckled while you giggled. 

“You really think I can be like him?”, you asked. 

“Y/N, you don’t have to be like him. You have to find yourself and whatever makes you feel okay”, Pepper replied honestly. “If you believe you have to do this, you can do it kid”

“Thank you, mom” 

You knew you wanted this; you knew you had to do this because you wanted to make Tony proud. He had believed in you, Nat too, and know it was your chance to prove everyone that you were succeeding and that Tony’s legacy was still alive. 

… 

But now sitting in that conference room with Steve and Fury, you couldn’t help feeling as if you were suffocating while they watched you carefully waiting for an answer. Maybe the feeling would go away, you were just starting but what worried you is that the feeling didn’t stop. 

“Mrs. Stark?”, Fury’s voice woke you up from your thoughts and you blinked trying to get back into the conversation. 

“Sorry”, you muttered as you cleared your throat. “I get that we need the Avengers alive but we are only five. It’s less than what you guys,” you signaled Steve, “had when you started it.”

Nick Fury looked at you with a smile as he took out from his trench coat a couple of folders and threw them on the table, his only eye gleaming with satisfaction, as if he was proud, he already knew everything as if he hadn’t snapped and was still aware of everything that was happening. 

“We have some ideas for recruits”, he said smugly. 

You rolled your eyes and took a hold of some of the folders, your eyes followed the letters and the pictures on it and you couldn’t help but feel a shiver of fear as you read the profiles of this people. It was becoming too real and although you were great at making things work you couldn’t help but feel responsible for them.  

But at the end of the day, they were exactly who you needed to make it work. 

You nodded your head and turned around to watch Steve. “Do you agree with all of them?”, you asked as you raised the folder with your hand. 

Steve remained quiet for a few seconds. “I think they have what it takes”

“Then we need to call them in”, you stated as you stood up, your heart thumping on your chest. 

It probably wasn’t a good idea for you, to have Peter at the meeting. But he had become an official Avenger when both of you decided to go to Titan with your dad and he was the most beloved hero of New York City -apart from you-, it was obvious that you needed his help to do this. 

But clearly, he wasn’t thrilled. 

You were walking through the hallways of Stark Tower; you had just finished a meeting with the volunteers of the facilities to thank them all for their help during this time and now you were late to the Avengers meeting. Honestly, the anxiety of the meeting hadn’t slowed down, the ache in your stomach got worse as time passed and you felt like your mind was somewhere else as you checked over and over again the points of the meeting. 

It wasn’t any news that when you were distracted enough you became a klutz. So, as you ran through the hallways of Stark Tower to get into the meeting in time, you unexpectedly collided with the brown-hair boy with chocolate eyes with specks of honey that made your heart stop. 

It wasn’t at all the meet-cute that it could’ve been. 

Peter, obviously with his super-strength didn’t even flinch as you fell forward on the floor as people gasped as they saw you there. It was as if you had wanted to run over him but he was a wall, so as you hit his back you were the one flying over. Papers everywhere, the screen of your iPhone probably cracked, a sharp pain on your shoulder and the ankle that Thanos had injured was throbbing a bit. 

“I-I’m sorry”, Peter managed to let out as he helped to collect the files that you were carrying along with your phone while you sat down on the floor wincing. 

“Don’t worry, I was the klutz”, you replied and it seemed that Peter froze as soon as he heard your voice. 

Maybe he hadn’t even noticed that it was you but the face when he realized it was you, it wasn’t pretty. 

Not even because of his hostile expression but he didn’t look well. He had bags under his eyes, the shadows made his usually big eyes become smaller, his brown curls weren’t styled as he liked but they were over the place and he seemed pale. It was as if he hadn’t sleep in…

“When was the last time you slept more than two hours?”, the question came out of nowhere and you wanted to hit yourself in the face because it wasn’t even appropriate. 

But you knew him, you knew how he sucked in everything around him. Peter’s sense had dialed to eleven since he was bitten by the radioactive spider and along with his anxiety thanks to the sense of responsibility he had after becoming Spider-man. You used to think that you overthink a lot of things but when you met Peter, you realized that it wasn’t half as bad. Sleeping together, your voice, your hands on his curls, your laugh, and holding your hand were things that helped him blow the anxiety away. Nonetheless, he couldn't do it anymore. 

Peter stayed quiet, examining you. You looked like heaven to him: rosy cheeks, your hair a bit messy but now more styled, the black turtle neck you were using looked elegant but casual by wearing your force 1 with them, he could tell that you were tired but the shadows under your eyes didn’t overshadow your y/e/c eyes, and those lips, you had just placed some Chapstick over them and he could tell. Peter decided right then and there that growing older suited you, you looked so good and he just wanted to kiss you right there and then. He wanted you to hold him and tell you that he hadn’t slept since you fought, he wanted to tell you that he missed you and that you two were meant for each other. 

But as much as he wanted to kiss you and tell you that he loved you, he didn’t do it, the angered and sadness clawing their way into his heart. 

The last few weeks had been confusing and tiring. He had returned to Midtown to all of your friends asking about you and while he didn’t say anything about Harry, he had to break down to them that you weren’t together and that you weren’t returning to Midtown either. 

…

“Do you mean she’s abandoning us!?”, Flash exclaimed dramatically as they all sat down in the lunch table while Peter only rolled his eyes. 

“I don’t know what she’s doing but she’s going to be 21 in a couple of months”, Peter explained. “She’s not coming back to school”

“Well, we are leaving in a few months to college”, Betty intervened. “We just have to take the final exams again but this fall we are going with Y/N to college” 

“These are the most important ones!” Ned cried. “Where the memories are made!”

He was barely holding it together and Betty was just playing with his hair, in an attempt to calm him down while MJ remained quiet, as if she was trying to process what was going on. Peter had wished that you were the one who told them but he understood that they had questions and that you wanted to keep to yourself. It was usually the thing you did when you were feeling down, still, he couldn’t help to hate it at the moment. 

But as always, MJ came out with the logical response and wisest answer. 

“She’s not abandoning us Flash,” she snarled as she gave him a side glanced and then looked back at Peter. “She has grown and she just lost her dad. We don’t know what was like to live without us, so let’s just give her time and she’ll come back to us”

Peter rolled his eyes, not in an obvious way but enough for MJ to notice and see red. 

“And get over yourself Parker, yes, she broke up with you but we don’t know what her life has been like for two years!”, MJ grumbled. “You know how much we can change in even six months?”

“MJ it’s not about me and y/n as a couple but-”

“-as best friends”, Peter and Flash said at the same time. 

Flash looked back and forth between MJ and Peter while they looked at him bugged eyed. 

“Shut up, Flash. You just literally became part of the group”, MJ grumbled and she stood up from the table as she faced Peter. “Stop being butthurt with Y/N and give her time”, she said walking away. 

All of them remained quiet for a second.

“Are we going to do what MJ said?”, Flash asked quietly. 

“When do we ever do something that MJ doesn’t say”, Ned replied as he placed his hand on Betty’s shoulder. 

“What if it’s too much time?”, Flash asked once again. 

“We just have to wait, Flash, don’t worry”, Betty replied.

But Peter remained quiet as he looked away, zoning out. It was actually something Peter saw coming, he knew that MJ and you had become close before the snap, and MJ was a fierce and loyal friend while you were as well. It didn’t surprise him her reaction and he also knew she was right, but he couldn’t help but feel still angry over what had happened with you and at that point he didn’t know if he was even mad at you but at the fact that he snapped away and you didn’t. 

…

It had been a few weeks after MJ snapped at Peter, he thought maybe his anger would die down but as his eyes focused on you, it still hurt so much. At the moment, Peter could’ve said a lot of things but why? Did he wonder if you really cared about him? What were you possibly going to say that would make him feel better? Would telling you off make him feel better? Of course not, he would feel awful if he said anything bad to you. Therefore he didn’t answer. 

“Peter, please”, you pleaded as he helped you stood up by grabbing your hand. 

But he didn’t budge, he didn’t open his mouth. He simply walked past you towards the conference room and you turned around, with a bleak expression, seeing him walking away.

It hurt. 

You had heard that some people preferred someone yelling at them and telling them off rather than to have someone not saying absolutely anything. Honestly, you didn’t understand and it was maybe because Tony had always said what was bothering him, he never stayed silent and neither did Pepper, so you didn’t understand until now how hurtful it could be. You winced at the realization you had done it to others, it was your preferred mechanism to disappear and stay with yourself, it was easier for you since you liked being alone but now you realized it was even worst. 

Your phone buzzing took your eyes away from Peter before he made a right to make it to the conference room. 

“What now?”

The screen turned on, with a small crack over it, and you couldn’t help but smile as you saw the MIT email on it. 

We are pleased to inform you that you had been admitted to MIT undergrad programs of electrical engineering, physics, and business …

You couldn’t contain your excitement as you watched the screen. It was something that Tony had always wanted, he had a pull-on MIT and had wished that you were going to his alma mater, along with Peter. It was a bittersweet moment for you, one day you had picture yourself there with Peter and Tony picking you up on the weekends to New York to spend time with Pepper, training with Nat and Steve, visiting your friends. 

But everything had been erased and now you were here, being head of the avengers and already definitely late for your meeting. 

The race to the hallways was rather quickly and in no time you were in front of the conference room but before you opened the door you took a deep breath. 

The ache in your stomach didn’t budge one bit, your feet couldn’t stop tapping on the ground as you bit your inner cheek.  This was your first move as head of the Avengers and you needed to play the part;  Fake it till you make it, you thought to yourself as you fixed your hair as best as you could and straightened your outfit; taking a deep breath, you walked in. 

It seemed like one of those dreams when you watch yourself, from another place, like a scene of a movie. At least that was how you felt as you tried to catch in on all the people who turned around as soon as you walked in with determination and the poker face that Tony had once taught you, but it felt like you were gasping for air as you saw from the corner of your eye Fury glaring at you. 

“You are late”, Fury stated. 

“I’m running a multimillion-dollar non-profit and was in a meeting with a correspondent of the White House, and I’m going to run this show,” you stated as you walked next to him, in front of everyone present. “So no, I’m not late”

It was a bold move and you prayed internally that it worked as you had a stare-down with Nick Fury, which you couldn’t even picture in your wildest dreams, and although you knew it was a lie about the White House, it was a way to assert your leadership. 

“Let’s begin,” you said by dropping the folders on the table and turning around to face everyone.

If Ned could be right there and then, you knew he would’ve passed out. 

Peter was sitting at your right, a bit slouched but he was in, next to him Wanda was sitting down as she winked at you, Lila Barton was sat down next to her with Clint by her side. On the other side of the table, there was Steve, Bucky, and Sam -or how your dad liked to call them The Army Bros, Steve and his kids, Ménage a Trois, among others-, then Harley was next to them smirking at you, Cassie Lang was also with Scott who seemed a bit in awe with the view in front of him. 

It was exciting seeing them together in one room, you could see a team forming here; you just hoped that it didn’t have to happen with an alien invasion followed by a significant battle in New York. 

“You have been called here because The Avengers are not done”, Steve said sternly as he looked at all of them. He might have been over 100 years but the force on his voice and the sense of leadership in his eyes didn’t go away for a second. “We still need to have a future.” Steve gazed at you as he finished and you sucked in a breath. 

It was your cue. 

“There was an idea to bring together a group of remarkable people, they did become something more and fought the battles that we couldn’t win”, you explained seriously, watching how Nick Fury turned around to see how you cited each one of the words he had said to your father. They had stuck with you all these years and you didn’t see why you shouldn’t bring them up now. “We need to be the next generation of that group, maintain the legacy, we have a responsibility with the world”.

Your eyes connected with everyone’s in the room, except for Peter who immediately looked away. 

“That’s the reason that we call you in”, Fury intervened as he walked towards you and Steve. “You have the abilities to save the world”. Everyone stayed silent as they watched him. “Y/N Stark or Iron hea-”, Fury began by dropping the first folder that contained your profile. 

“-don’t even say it, it’s just Stark”, you interrupted as you raised your hand for him to stop, Fury simple rolled his eye with a still stone-cold face drawn. 

“Spider-man”, he said looking at Peter, folder dropped. 

“Scarlett Witch”, Wanda sucked in a breath as the folder dropped in front of her. 

“Winter Soldier or White Wolf should I say?”, Fury asked. 

Bucky remained quiet as he gazed at the folder that Fury had thrown on him, clearly bigger than any of the others. He just sighed and nodded. 

“Falcon, the new Captain America”, Fury said and Sam smirked as he placed a hand over Steve’s shoulder while Bucky rolled his eyes. 

“Iron lad”, Fury said gazing at Harvey who seemed like he wanted to pass out as he quickly took a hold of the folder and began reading it full speed. 

“Statue”, he said looking at Cass while Scott looked at him with panic. It was clear that he didn’t want Cassie there but by the way, Cassie was excitedly looking at the folder and what was written about her, it wasn’t his choice to make. 

“Finally, Kate Bishop”, Fury finished as he nodded at Clint who was sternly looking at you.  

Cassie quickly turned around to look at her, bug-eyed. “Thought that you were Lila Barton?”, she said confused. 

Before Clint or Lila could even respond, you interrupted them. 

“It’s Lila’s secret identity”, you explained with a smile. “No one can know she’s related to Clint. It can risk their cover and we don’t want anything happening to them”. 

“Thanks, Y/N”, Clint said with a tight smile. 

It was clear that you would’ve to talk with Clint and Scott soon and calm them down, they reminded you of your dad and well, Lila and Cassie reminded you of you at that age and how much you wanted to follow your father’s steps into becoming an actual hero. They wanted to be in it so badly that they went behind their parents back to make it happened and it was the same as you began to build your suit without Tony knowing it. 

Lila had talked with Fury at the funeral, she had sneak from Clint and Laura while Fury was having a word with Carol. She had explained to him that she was good with the bow and arrow, maybe even better than her dad; and most importantly, she had realized that she wanted to do something good if she knew how to do it. On the other part, Cassie had been begging Scott, Janet, Hope, and Hank to let her into the team, Cassie was smarter than Scott and in the few years that had passed, she was sure that she wanted to follow her dad’s steps after actually losing him. Although Hope and Scott didn’t agree on it, Hank and Janet had a soft spot for Cassie and had given her a suit, after a few trials they had realized she was really good. It didn’t take long for Fury to hear the word and contact them. It wasn’t a pretty discussion with Hank or Hope, but Janet and Scott more or less got where Cassie was coming from, finally convincing them it was a good option. 

Lila was fifteen while Cassie was fourteen, approximately a year younger before your first mission; it seemed like it was time to train them although a part of you wanted them to stay training for a little longer. 

“What about the other ones?”, Peter asked as he looked at Steve, drawing you back to the conversation. “T’Challa? Or Captain Marvel? Where’s Thor?”

You winced at his remark, it stung that he was unsure about this new plan and this new era. Did he wanted to be there? Steve had been the one calling him and knowing how much Peter respected Steve, you were sure he was going to say yes. But now that you were actually listening to him, at the dead tone he had, at the way he was avoiding you or even zoning out, you didn’t know if it was the best idea to have him on the team. 

But Peter wasn’t doubting you. He didn’t doubt you for a second, in his heart he knew that you were going to be a great leader, but as he gazed at you, it became too much. 

“They’ll come when they are needed but we need a response team, the foundations,” Steve said as he signaled the room. “You are that team” 

Peter nodded in response. Truth was that Peter felt proud that he had been called, he remembered like it was yesterday when Tony had officially made him an avenger. How you had jumped into his arms and planted a kiss on his lips as if you didn’t care that you were going to a new planet and facing the scariest villain that you had met, all that it mattered was how official this was. But that was it, it came back to the fact that he wanted to stand up with you and hold your hand and be your support but he couldn’t do it. 

“Anyway, newbies you are not official members yet”, you stated as you signaled to Cassie, Harley, and Lila. “But we need to start training you and we will begin next week”

“How much training?”, Harley asked concerned since you knew he was about to finish college this semester. 

“Don’t worry, we will start on the weekends. You’ll be flown here from Boston and San Francisco by one of our quinjets”, you explained. “Lila, you’ll come every two weeks since you train with Clint almost every day and there’s no better teacher for your specialty”

Lila nodded excitedly as she gazed back at Clint, who simply smiled and placed a kiss on her forehead. 

“We are going to train in the tower again?”, Peter asked as he looked at you, he was really looking at you, you gaped for a bit by the way his eyes were looking at you. 

“Ye-Yes… I-uhm- until the compound it’s -uhm- I already ordered to rebuild it”, you stumbled through your words as you tried to maintain the first eye-contact that Peter had given you. “It’s on my name now”

Peter nodded quietly and you smiled as a response but it didn’t last long as he quickly gazed back at Fury as he began to explain the regime that you were going to follow and how the group trainings were going to go, especially since Sam and Bucky had a special mission in Europe for the next month or two. Harley along with Cassie were the ones doing the most questions and most of the talking regarding the new initiative, Lila asked a few questions but it seemed like she was more familiar with the spy language that you were using. Wanda, Sam, and Bucky took on the role of mentors as they sometimes intervened and explained how things worked, along with you and Steve. Peter talked a few times as well, but he stayed quiet for most of the meeting, he knew the protocols and the plans so he didn’t have many questions. He was zoning out as he looked at you when you weren’t looking, god, he was trying to avoid it because it created a lump on his throat the more, he looked at you and knew that nothing was going to happen between you two again. 

So, when you lifted the meeting, he stood up as fast as he could and walked out of the room. 

“So, what’s up with him?”, Wanda asked as everyone began walking out of the room and you stayed alone picking up the papers and giving a nod to Fury as he told you that he was going to be in contact. 

Wanda was a big part of your life. She became like a sister after Ultron and although she was a couple of years older than you, it was a matter of time before you became best friends. The nights that you stayed at the compound and that Peter spent with Aunt May, became official girls’ nights between you two and sometimes Natasha (although she wasn’t a fan). You knew she was the first person that realized you had feelings for Peter and it was the first person you told about your first kiss after Scorpion attacked you. She also told you about Vision and you were there as she slowly let her guard down with him, at the end falling head over heels for him. 

Their relationship was sweet and authentic, neither of them was trying to be someone that they weren’t and they accepted each other with everything they came with. When you lost both of them to the snap, it somehow made you feel okay? That they weren’t living without the other because they seemed so meant to be together, Vision adored her. Nonetheless, when Wanda came back and Vision didn’t, you knew it was going to take a toll on her. Wanda had been staying in the tower since all of you came back, she hadn’t left her room and she hadn’t been herself as she tried to deal with the grief of losing Vision, Bucky had been overprotective of her the last few days of her and Bruce checked up on her every day, you also visited her as much as you could and you had heard that Peter had swing by a couple of times as well. This was the first day that you had seen her out of her room and you were beyond happy about seeing her like this. 

“I thought that he had told you when he came to visit”, you said as you turned around and wrap your arms around Wanda who hugged you back. 

Wanda and Peter were good friends, she saw him as a little brother and she messed around with him when she had the opportunity. They used to try to sneak up on him with Vision sometimes, but Peter’s spidey sense was too strong for them to win; at the end, Wanda resorted into levitating a few things when Peter wasn’t looking and it would annoy him before he would shot his web to the object that would be flying over his head with a red halo or in another place of the room. 

“He didn’t do much talking actually, he just listened”, Wanda explained as she let go of you. “So, what happened?”

In all honesty, you were somehow dreading this part of telling Wanda about Harry, you remember how happy she was when you told her about Peter and was all over your team even after older avengers were kind of apprehensive about it. 

You sighed as you leaned on the table. “You know Oscorp Industries?” 

“I don’t like where this is going”, Wanda bit her lip, wincing as she watched you carefully and you nodded in response. 

The memory of Peter’s eyes gleaming with tears as they fell from his cheeks while you spat out that you were with someone new hunted you. Your heart sank more and more was you thought about it, it was one of the worst things you had to do. 

“It’s not that I forgot about Peter, but I was just so lost and everyone was telling me to move on”, you shrugged as Wanda sat on one of the chairs next to you. 

It was true, you never forgot about the boy with chocolate eyes. It just happened that when you were getting better, Harry appeared in your life and just made it easier. It was easy and calming to be with him, he was everything you would want on a boyfriend. 

“I know the feeling”, Wanda mumbled and you felt guilty that you were talking about your love life when Wanda’s significant other had passed away. “So, what’s he like?”

You huffed as you tried to find words to describe Harry. “He’s gorgeous to look at, he is kind and humble. I just like to be around him”. 

Wanda eyed you suspiciously for a few moments and it scared you because you knew how good she was at reading you and knowing your feelings. It scared you that she might tell you that you were making the wrong decision. 

“But he’s no Peter”, Wanda stated as she looked at you intently. 

No, there was no way that Harry would compare to Peter. And it was unfair to do it because they were too different, the only thing linking them together was that they cared about you. 

“No”, you answered honestly as you closed your eyes, pinching the bridge of your nose as you tried to find the right words to fight Wanda’s gaze. “He isn’t but I do care about him, a lot. You can’t understand how much he has help-.”

“-do you love him?”, Wanda interrupted and you became stiff as she mentioned love. 

It wasn’t that the fact that neither Harry or you had said it, he knew how delicate that was for you and the fact that you had only told Peter that you loved him had maybe restrained Harry to actually mumbled it out. But on your part, you knew how your heart felt warm when you saw him and how you automatically smiled, he made you laugh and made you feel okay; still, you hadn’t said it. 

“I think I do”, you answered honestly. 

Wanda rolled her eyes as she stood from the chair and splayed her hands on the table, a straight-face as she eyed you again, as if she was in an interrogatory, “It’s a yes or no answer Y/N”. 

And you felt the pressure like she had meant you to feel it. “Wanda, stop”, you felt your cheeks growing warmer and even maybe a headache as you looked right back at her, but you knew better than to avoid her questions and you finally answered, “I can’t give you one”. 

Wanda finally looked away as she passed a hand through her hair. “So, what are your feelings for Peter then?” Wanda sighed. 

“I love him”, you stated without any doubt on your voice, making her shoot a look at you of confusion. 

What’s it weird to say that you love your ex-boyfriend but doubt that you loved your current one? Maybe, you thought as you hopped off the table. 

“If you are so sure then why don’t you go back to him?”, Wanda asked, annoyance lingering onto her voice. 

You smirked as you watched her because it was too obvious who she was going to choose, “Oh, I see you are Team Peter on this”

She gave you a light smile back. “You know I love Peter but Y/N…”, her lips pressed for a second as she tried to fix her words, “I remember when you told me about Peter for the first time and there was something inside you that you couldn’t control”, she said as she walked closer to you, “It was as if this bright feeling was filling you, everything inside you shined.” 

And you remembered it, you remembered how you felt golden when you were with Peter. How your heart fluttered on your chest as his lips pressed against your body and then against your lips. How his hands would always seek your body and how on the nights you would spend together, you would fall asleep to the beating of his heart. 

“I’m not disputing that,” you stated curtly, as you recollected all the folders with a little more speed than you would. “but I have Harry too and he helped me during the time I lost everything and we just get along so well. It would be unfair for me to simply toss him after Peter came back”

Wanda’s gaze was burning your back and you could tell she was swallowing somethings just to get off your back because she noticed you were getting riled up. 

“I understand,” she finally said as you sighed and looked back at her. “But if you want this team to work, Peter and you have to keep being the best friends that you have always been”

At that very moment, Peter was thinking about the same thing. 

Was it even worth trying to work for this new team out if you weren’t on talking terms? No, it wasn’t. You were his partner and he was yours, even if years had passed for you and you were with someone new, nothing could change the fact that together you guys worked. Together you worked better than anyone in the team, Peter even believed that you guys were more connected than Nat and Steve at some point before the snap. It was the actual true, Peter knew your every move and you knew him; most importantly, you would do whatever was needed to keep the other one safe. 

But how?

“How what?”, a voice snapped Peter out of his thoughts realizing he had said it out loud. His eyes followed the husky voice, recognizing that the elevator at Stark’s tower had been emptied while he had been thinking about you. 

His eyes found this boy, should he even say boy? No, he was a man. Peter was sure that he could be confused with a model, his almond eyes were green-ish or grey-ish, he couldn’t tell and were accompanied by a sharp jaw with well-groomed facial hair. He passed a hand through his dark hair and Peter realized how tall he was. 

“I…”, Peter mumbled as he rose a brow. “It’s nothing, uhm- which floor are we?” 

The guy simply nodded and smiled simply at Peter. “We are arriving at the penthouse, right now.”

Before the doors opened, F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s voice could be heard in all the elevator. 

“Hello, Harry”, the AI said smoothly. “And welcome back Peter, Mrs. Potts wanted to see you”

Peter blinked in surprise; he felt his body stiffened as he heard the name. It wasn’t that Peter had been stalking you or trying to find who you were dating. Just casually some days prior, Peter had recruited Ned to find out and without a doubt, Ned worked faster than the FBI. 

…

“There are no photos?” Peter mewled as he walked through the walls of his room while Ned was furiously typing on his computer.

Peter wasn’t per se proud of how fixated he was on it, but he just wanted to know who had been the guy that you had actually opened your heart to that wasn’t him. You weren’t too much into relationships since he met you, you were focused on avenging and school; relationships other than your close friendships, and later, Peter’s were the things occupying your mind. 

You had gone out on a couple of dates with both boys and girls before Peter, but nothing more than a friendly chat or maybe a kiss happened between you and them. Peter tried not to be jealous but the relentless flirting did annoy him, and sometimes he let shades of it through. 

You noticed it, so when the girls would come by to talk to you at lunch and play with your hair while Peter watched, you tried to be as nonchalant as you could. With boys, you simply and politely most of the time (if they weren’t being an asshole) asked them to get lost or refused their advances. And always after the fact, Peter would be in an unusually high good mood. 

So, now with Harry, he was clearly on a mission. 

“No man, apparently his father wanted him out of the spotlight,” Ned replied as he rubbed his tired eyes. “Not that this Norman Osborn appears on many things. Remember that I had to do a presentation about him? There was barely any information”

Peter huffed. “Well, then what did you found?”

Ned glared at him as he began typing again, his fingers moving faster than Peter’s eyes. “Well, he is a billionaire and a philanthropist, he had projects in Latin America and Africa on bioengineer which he’s pretty good at”

Peter rolled his eyes, he knew how much you cared about doing your part in the world, you understood your privileges and tried to do something good about it. You didn’t like to be a girl with daddy’s credit card, there was nothing more annoying to you than when people assumed you were vapid and frivolous because of who your father was. 

“Perfect, what else do we know about Mr. perfect?”, Peter snarled as he began descending from the walls and sat next to Ned. 

Ned opened various tabs on the computer that seemed like it was going to burst with information at any point. “He has won several awards about bioengineering and as an activist. His mother was from China but he lived a few years in Malaysia as well, he went to a snobbish school and speaks English, Malay, Mandarin, French, and Spanish”

Peter’s eyes rolled to the back of his skull. “Can he be any more perfect?”, he whined and stayed silent for a few moments. “Is there any information about him and Y/N?”

Ned eyed Peter for a second, contemplating him in silence. “Do you want me to tell you that?”

Peter’s eyes connected with Ned’s, he was so tired of crying every night but it was almost impossible for him to stop. When he closed his eyes, he could only see you, you were a trigger for him. 

“No, let’s leave it alone for the day”

…

“Aren’t you going come in?”, Harry asked slowly and Peter simply nodded as he followed him to the large living room. 

Peter’s mind was running as if he had sipped four coffees without any milk, his jaw tightened as he watched Harry comfortably sitting on the grey sofa where once Tony had sat Peter to tell him stories about his fights, to explained him new plans, to finally confront him and you about your ongoing relationship that you had kept a secret for almost six months. 

He felt himself growing hot and his anxiety flew out of the charts. Peter, who seemed so innocent in his jeans, white shirt and black hoodie began thinking about the many ways he wanted to toss Harry out of the apartment without a second thought. 

Maybe you were his trigger, seeing you in that black dress was telling him that you were with someone else was his trigger but now Harry had become his new one. Now he could only picture you with Harry; Harry who looked like a model and was also a genius, Harry who had been there for you when Peter wasn’t and eventually took his place, maybe Harry was everything that Peter wasn’t. 

Peter only realized how worked up he was getting when he began to shake, his eyes widened as he looked at how his hands had formed into a fist and now were red thanks to all the pressure. He cleared his throat as he placed his hands on the pockets of his jeans and started walking away from the living room, maybe he could go to his old room in the tower although if he was being honest he wanted nothing more than to go to your room where he stayed most of the nights years prior.  

He remembered how you would open your window for him, especially designed for him to swing through swiftly. He remembered the nights where he would just crash your lips against yours and you would hum in response as both of you fell into your bed. He remembered also the early moments of your friendship, how you would go back to the penthouse excited after Tony had let you tried a new piece of tech, or maybe one of your works had worked. He remembered your laugh most of all, bouncing off the large walls and windows, how it would warm him up. 

But then Harry’s voice stopped him, “Woah, Woah”. Peter snapped around to see the tall boy walking towards him, “You can’t go anywhere big guy. Mrs. Potts doesn’t like it when not close people walk around”

Now it was a fact, Peter wanted to rip Harry apart. 

“I don’t need permission from Pepper to be here”, Peter retorted. He was a little bit glad that he was on a first-name basis with Pepper and Harry still weren’t, pried filled his chest as he looked at Harry staring blankly at him. 

It lasted a few second, Peter watch how Harry was examining his face and his stand. Then his eyes opened like plates and he gaped at Peter.

“Wait”, Harry muttered. “Are you-”

“-Peter Parker”, Peter stated as he glared at him. 

Was he being a little bit too standoff-ish? Yes, but at the moment he didn’t care, because it was his territory. He had been living in that penthouse for three years before the snap, he was basically family to the Stark’s and not even Harry could take that away from him. 

“I-Uhm- It’s nice to meet you”, Harry muttered as he offered Peter his hand. 

Peter looked down at it, somehow doubting Harry’s move but at the end of the day he knew nothing good would come up if he wasn’t polite. Hell, Peter was even polite to villains, although Harry had become his one. 

“It’s nice to meet you too”, Peter replied as he shook his hand, firmly. 

Harry pressed his lips into a tight smiled as he nodded. “Y/N, she talked about you, a lot.”

It wasn’t a complete lie. Harry had forgotten to even ask about Peter after the snap and since you never brought it up, it never crossed his mind that the love of your life was back. You had talked about Peter a few times, most of them ended in tears from your part and Harry had seen your social media was filled with pictures of Peter Parker, as well as the penthouse where Tony had photos of the three of you and all the other avengers. He knew how much Peter meant for you and now, although Harry wasn’t one that got nervous, he felt a shiver of panic running through his back as Peter let go of his hand.

“She talked about you; you were -uhm- are extremely especial for her”, Harry muttered.

Peter stared up at Harry, jarring silence filling the room as his heart rate increased. Harry’s eyes were blank and Peter felt stiff and uncomfortable, but another part of him felt a slight jolt of joy as Harry had mentioned how special he was for you and by how Harry was acting. Peter wanted to take the small charm that had the Iron-Spider-suit and jump from the window, maybe even swing from building to building while screaming of joy. You had talked about him, to the point that it seemed to make Harry uncomfortable. 

“Yeah…”, Peter said simply as he gave a step back. “I’m going to leave now…”

Before could even turn around completely, he bumped into Pepper. 

Pepper had this thing about her, she could be serious to the point of scary but she could also be the sweetest woman on earth. Pepper had become an important mother figure to Peter, and she got extremely well with May (who at first wasn’t a fan of Tony) to the point they would have a few talks over the more humanitarian side that Stark’s Industries needed or any new project that had Pepper busy. Moreover, Pepper was always there for both Peter and you, after every mission or school project, she had managed to make time for the both of you, which was impressive being CEO of SI. Peter was sure that Pepper knew he had feelings for you since he first arrived, she would give him these looks and he was sure that they had talked about it with May. 

When you finally told both Tony and Pepper, she was there to help Tony get more relaxed about your decisions and she was the one that gave Peter permission to sleep on your bed when Tony didn’t feel very comfortable, she would keep him off your room for the time that you guys were together. 

So, when Peter saw Pepper again (since he hadn’t really spoken to her at the funeral) he felt his heart clenching on his chest, the ache didn’t go away as she watched her. He hadn’t said anything to Pepper since Tony had died, anything. He hadn’t acknowledged the women who acted as a mother to him, how much she must be suffering from Tony’s death, and now your sudden role as leader of the Avengers. 

“I have been leaving messages, Peter”, Pepper said sternly, pulling her blonde straight hair behind her ears and he was sure he winced at her voice. 

“I’m -I …”, Peter stumbled through his words as he tried to phrase how sorry he actually was. “I’m sorry Pepper”, he finally said. 

She stared at him; a blank gaze was drawn but after a few seconds her features soften as she looked at the shy chocolate eyed boy. 

“It’s okay”, Pepper muttered giving him a light smile as she patted him on the shoulder and pulled him in for a small hug, which was short-lived as Pepper quickly turned to see Harry awkwardly standing there. “Harry, I’ll take Peter away but you can wait for her in the living room”

Peter watched Harry carefully who seemed dumbfounded at their recent interactions but as soon as Pepper talked to him he straightened himself and cleared his throat, giving her a charming smile. 

“That would be perfect”, he replied with a nod, muttering a quick ‘thank you’ before he turned around and walked to the couch again. 

Peter felt like a masochist as his eyes followed Harry, analyzing the way that he walked and wondered how you two actually looked like but Pepper didn’t give him much on an opportunity to ponder on his suffering from you. Quickly, walking away and telling Peter to follow her which forced Peter to remove his eyes from Harry who was taking a seat of the large living room again. 

“So, how have you been?”, Pepper said as soon as they got enough distance from the living room, the only sound on the hallway was the clicking of her heels. 

Peter smiled tightly at Pepper; he was not okay but he didn’t want to have any sort of conversation with Pepper where he would be the one to feel bad for himself. Not when Pepper had lost Tony. 

“I’m okay”, Peter lied.

Pepper contemplate him as she wrinkled her nose, “Well, you don’t look okay, Peter. Have you been sleeping?”, she replied as they got to her office. 

Peter wanted to answer and assured her that he had been sleeping and feeling well, happy to be back and grateful with Tony who had died for him to be there. But nothing came out, he simply shut his mouth and nodded.

“Yes, that was what I imagined”, Pepper chuckled as she opened the door. “Come in, I have to introduce you to someone”, Pepper said. 

Peter stood there for a few moments when Pepper moved, she could see the tiny human that was laying down in fairly modern and beautiful playpen. The toddler wiped her head around as soon as she heard Pepper and Peter and he felt like crying when her big-doe-brown eyes locked with Peter’s. 

Peter had not paid much attention to Morgan at the funeral, he was thinking only about you. He guessed that he would meet her eventually after you talked but it never happened. Nonetheless, he could tell that the little child was the spitting image of Tony Stark, Peter could tell that she was going to be smart beyond her years just like you and Tony and that she would have both of your wits and humor. 

“So, you want to meet your goddaughter?”, Pepper muttered as she looked sweetly at Peter.

Peter’s eyes opened like plates.

“Am -I am her godfather?”, Peter stuttered as he entered the large office and walked towards baby Morgan who watched him intently. 

“Yes, Tony wanted you to be the godfather and so did y/n”, Pepper answered and Peter felt her heart-warming, not even looking at Peter quickly kneeled to say hi to Morgan.

Peter didn’t know Morgan, he was afraid she was a little apprehensive because of how rapid he had kneeled and offered his hand to her. 

“Hi baby Stark”, Peter whispered at Morgan, who quickly responded with a wide toothy smile and she giggled. 

Opening her arms, she signaled for him to grab her from her playpen, and Peter followed suit at her request with a smile. She was as light as a feather to Peter, almost lighter and he easily placed her on one hand as she took a hold of his face and began examining him closely while Pepper watched wistfully. 

“Peter!”, Morgan suddenly blabbered and Peter was stunned, he wiped his head quickly to Pepper who laughed at his reaction while Peter chuckled too. 

“How -uhm?” Peter began but was cut off by Pepper. 

“Tony told her stories about you, so did y/n”, Pepper explained as she walked towards the large white sofa in her office and patted the space next to her for Peter to sit down. “Y/N wanted her to know who you were, so for the night stories she would often tell her about you and her.”

Peter felt his heart on his throat as he heard Pepper’s words. Every word that came out of her mouth was exactly what Peter wanted to hear, he was holding on to any hope for you and him, although deep down he knew he had to respect your choice, whether he liked it or not. 

 “I know that you are not okay Peter”, Pepper sighed, a woeful expression drawn on her face. “I’m so sorry you had to find it this way and everything that happened”

Peter nodded, trying to hold on to whatever sense of stability he had on him but it was useless as his eyes locked with Pepper, who had seen him both at his best and his worst. Peter sank on the couch as he placed baby Morgan on his chest who kept playing with his features, he felt like he had exhausted all his tears the last few weeks. 

“It’s just… everything hurts when I think about Y/N”, he whispered, his voice breaking. “I thought that… I just can’t deal with her choice”

“It was not entirely Y/N decision”, Pepper quickly said as her hand quickly ghosted his arm. She looked down biting her lip, Peter could see she was unsure of what she was going to say. “But you can’t understand how broken she was without you.”

Peter sniffle causing Morgan to stop playing with his features and watching him carefully, finally turning away from him to face Pepper. 

“Mommy, what happened?”, Morgan’s tiny voice made Peter’s heart skip a beat. She was so smart already and he let a genuine smile out. 

Pepper smiled too as she picked Morgan from Peter. “Uncle Peter is a bit sad, that’s all”, she explained, and then her eyes returned to Peter’s. “The first six months after the snap she just… she shut down Peter. We didn’t see her and nothing could get her out of that bed. We were so worried about her for months, we didn’t even know if she was going to make it. ”

“What?”

Peter had seen you after the fact, he had heard you when you said that you didn’t forget him and how Harry expressed how important he was for you, but he never expected you to be so lost without him. Peter always believed you were the stronger one on the relationship you had, he was the one following you like a puppy since he first met you and from then on, his feelings just grew to a point that when he finally kissed you and told you his feelings, he was sure his heart was going to explode. He had harbored his feelings for so long, he struggled to maintain them in a line when they were finally out. But you, you were so elegant and delicate with your feelings for Peter. He knew you loved him but being trained by spies from an early age may be helped you conceal your feelings longer or because of your personality, you seemed to be the master of limits. Peter never picture that you would fall apart so badly without him. 

“I’m not going to tell you that you aren’t allowed to feel that way”, Pepper continued, clearly shuddering at the memories of you at the time. “But I just want to say that you should forgive her because this world wouldn’t be right if you two aren’t together, at least as friends and partners”.

Peter stayed silent for a few seconds. It felt like the poisonous anger and the debilitating sadness that had overcome his body the last few weeks were being dissipated by Pepper’s words. The common anxiousness that overwhelmed Peter was neutralized by a second as he quite literally felt like he could face all his emotions, trying to immerse in processing the new information. He realized that you may not have done what he would do, he realized that being angry about the fact that he had snapped and you didn’t wouldn’t help anybody, he realized that not talking to you was being more hurtful for both of you. He realized that if he claimed to love you so much, he would be there unconditionally and he felt ashamed he hadn’t. 

Peter nodded, finally embracing every feeling he had and confronting himself. 

“I under-”, were the only words that Peter managed to get out of his mouth before the hairs in his arms quickly stood-up, he could feel the goosebumps erupting in his whole body as his head snapped at the windows that reached both the ceiling and the floor. 

He stood up without a word as Pepper watched bug-eyed, holding Morgan a little bit tighter. 

“Whats happe-”

Screamed began coming from the streets, they filled the room, and then a roar shook the city.

---

TAGLIST: @erindanus​ @spideylovin​ @zlamaneserca​ @bethanystan​ @cedricisnotonfire​ @eridanuswave​ @babebenhardy​ @lyzalovealk​

#spider-man #spiderman #spiderman imagine #spiderman series #peter parker spiderman #spiderman far from home #spiderman homecoming #spiderman into the spiderverse #spider-man fanfiction #spider-man fluff #spider-man mcu #spider-man angst #peter parker #peter parker headers #peter parker avengers #peter parker headcanon #peter parker fan fiction #peter parker oneshot #peter parker one shot #peter parker fanfic #peter parker fic #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker fluff #peter parker angst #peter parker masterlist #peter parker mcu #peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x stark!reader #peter parker x you

[invertedfate]

Random Ask Dump - Anniversary Edition (50+ REALLY OLD ASKS!)

Going through OLD AND CRUSTY ASKS to try and chip away at the inbox. HERE WE GOOOO...

That’s an interesting idea, and I could run it by Cake, but I think it would honestly be a LOT to track from a programming perspective. Especially ‘cause killing Sans is gonna result in a “bad ending,” so to speak.

An attempt was made by Undyne to have all three hang out at the same time. Papyrus was SUPER EAGER. ...but one thing led to another and there were many messy explosions of chemicals and lots of smoke. Alphys had to step in before things got out of hand. It was all very daunting for her. Pap and Undyne are VERY LOUD, VERY AMBITIOUS PEOPLE.

I actually have some ideas of some side comics I may do at some point! :o It’s just that right now there’s a lot going on.

I need to poke Carni about that at some point. He’s just been very busy with other projects!

Clearly he’s standing on the “out to lunch” sign.

I wanna say that it’s very possible in theory. :o It probably affects them differently since monsters’ emotional state affects their magic and their physical state.

I do like little easter eggs like that, though I’m not sure where I’d fit it in atm just ‘cause I already showed Pap’s room, haha.

I made the chase theme for Mad Dummy as well as Mad Mew Mew’s battle theme. @pinewsun​ made the battle theme for Mad Dummy, and @thomasthepencil​ made the Season Dude battle theme and MD’s overworld theme. :o

That’s a really fascinating conundrum! You’re absolutely right- if IF was a standalone game, then from a writing standpoint, having more subtle implications would make sense! The reason I chose a different approach for IF is because it’s set after Flowey’s already known to be evil and I like to give different POVs rather than stick to just Frisk’s.

That’s an interesting thing, actually- both fights lean heavily on the fourth wall. Both are treated as climaxes for their given routes. It’s funny because Asriel’s fight is a lot more straightforward and less meta by comparison.

I agree! The thing with Papyrus is that he’s extremely powerful- he just doesn’t want to kill. But it’s a deliberate choice not to kill- he’s able to force his attacks to do next to no damage. He’s also pretty darn crafty, as he made the Gauntlet himself. It really is just a case of Undyne’s personal biases and concern for him.

That was a deliberate choice. :O Papyrus is very influential toward Frisk. He is best skeleboi.

Papybot loves you, anon! He just wants to feed you WHOLESOME SPAGHETTI!!!

It is possible to whistle through teeth. ...alternatively, magic. As for the music, Undertale implies that the music is heard! Maybe it’s just... a thing that exists in this world. Or it’s just meant to be a silly meta joke. I try to keep it somewhat ambiguous other than occasional nods to it. Chara’s pants are lighter because I just... felt like it, I guess? Haha. I wanted their feet and pants to stand out more from each other, so they have khaki pants. As for the Undyne fight being animated, well, this ask is old by now, but Sparks was the one who was down for it.

Well, the teaser’s been out for a long time now, but that’s the idea! It’s also why this has been in production for so long. The Determinator has some really over the top attacks (that weren’t even shown in the teaser), and Sparks animated in Photoshop. That’s how hardcore he is.

Shhhhh. Don’t give me ideas. I’m already slacking on Tem Village. :P

Sometimes I do have slumps and burnouts (see Antipode’s lengthy hiatus), but breaks lead to me being refreshed and coming back with even more enthusiasm than before!

Oh, there are a lot of these throughout the comic. For instance...

Flowey appears in a few background shots in the Ruins!

When Sans says “or maybe...” he looks at the empty flower pot. This was one of the earliest bits of foreshadowing about who created Flowey, and nobody noticed it at the time!

The MTT vending machines initially look like this but have helpful items.

And then they look like this, with an angry face and pose- Mad Dummy has possessed them!

As of Part 38, it’s been revealed that he did first meet Asgore as “Santa.” As for whether or not he knows the truth, time will tell. :o

Oh, these are excellent suggestions for calls! I’ll try to keep these in mind.

So, I believe Glyde uses the Mysterious Door motif. Jerry uses the motif in its battle theme- I believe it’s a mix of original motif and Wrong Number song?

Sans is a master of power napping. He probably gets a decent amount of sleep, though.

There are a lot of ways to interpret Pap’s lack of sleep! In IF, he can get by without it, but he also has a lot of reasons to avoid sleeping. Some reasons include productivity but also due to a looooot of heavy baggage. More on that later.

I think sleep can definitely make monsters healthier. Rest = better mental health as well as physical health, and with how important mental and emotional help is for monsters, that’s very important!

They just really like socks. Socks are warm. Socks are slinky. And googly eyes are the best. So they took on the form of a really eccentric sock puppet and sock collector. Scandalous.

It also has Alphys’ motif, as the two are the leaders of the royal guard!

I would say the lack of Asgore as an influence has left Undyne slightly less grounded? Like, she had Toriel and Gerson in her life, but her relationship with Toriel is... definitely not quite as close? Like, Toriel by that point kept people at an arm’s length due to losing multiple children (including one from old age). So, while they were on friendly terms until the aftermath of the DT experiments and the tapes’ release, it was more like mutual respect and a sorta professional relationship with Undyne admiring Toriel and wanting to spare her from more heartache.

That is a really interesting idea. While that didn’t happen, I do need to maybe revisit the grumpy dog at some point or another. He’s still a lil’ salty.

I think in terms of layout it won’t change much, but there will be new/different content for sure. :O

Mad Dummy’s base design is mostly original, but she has a wig + headband from DIO from Jojo Part 3! Fun fact: While MTT has Kamina shades, Papyrus’ goggles are loosely based on Simon from Tengen Toppa Gurren Lagann in terms of color. :O

So basically, when Asriel defeated Frisk, he had the power over the timeline to reset it as he pleased- in theory. However, that power was overwhelming for him, and due his lack of understanding OF said power and one last ditch attempt at resisting from Chara, things went wrong.

There is a track that takes some inspiration from Rage Awakened. It’s not released, and it’s not exact, but it won’t be released for a WHILE. Like until the part comes out.

I think it’s just the fact that tacos are so random. Like, my biggest beef in that regard was that OG Underswap had a lot of arbitrary replacements for things in UT and not all of them made sense. Like, if Sans was to make a foreign food, ramen would’ve made more sense due to Alphys being weeb trash, haha.

Okay, so the rough timeline iiiis... Falling: - Cyan - Green - Orange - Blue - Purple - Yellow Dying: - Cyan - Orange - Blue - Purple - Yellow - Green

You know, it’s funny because this ask is super old, but that’s basically sorta what happened. :O It became a beach-themed resort.

Never forget MTT fangirl Temmie’s pool escapades.

I think Forgespring for me because I had to make the tileset myself (it took a few months, I think?), but Aquarius was definitely in the works for a while. But once I had the tileset from Fours, the rooms were very easy to design!

That woulda been pretty rad! Maybe I can find another spot for it one day, haha.

I think for Dohj, I’d have to check with Fours, but I’m certainly not opposed at some point? Right now, the following chars can take questions: - Frisk - Papyrus - Sans - Undyne - Alphys - Napstablook - Mettaton - Asgore - Chara - Flowey

Cyan appears in Part 45! :O No answer about orange for now, tho.

I do have vague ideas for Tem village. I just haven’t had time to go back and do it.

Stay tuned and you may find out! :O

Hmmmm... I had a lot of fun with MTT SPIRAL and the Determinator, tbh. They were both very time consuming, but I love how they came out! Also, buff Jerry.

Turnabout Storm. :)

It’s a really awesome fan crossover that works way better than it should. :P

None taken! We know that with headcanons, everyone is gonna have their own interpretations. These are just the voices we liked for Fireglobe Production, but everyone has their right to their favored interpretations!

Yeah, Knight Knight is one of the coolest CORE mercs in the original game. It was fun to repurpose them for Inverted Fate as royal guards. :o It made room for unique encounters in the CORE in the form of them robots- as Undyne would rather use machines than other monsters to do her work.

Personally, I see it as an Asriel motif, but I also acknowledge that at one point it WAS gonna be an Asgore motif. Toby has a habit of just using whatever music works for a scene (see sans. at the snail farm.)

I do have a few ideas, though I won’t say for what yet. :o

He’s likely made blueprints for that train. :P

It probably would just have different flavor text/progression!

So basically, I treat the starting motif for BAaTH/Power of NEO is just a “true hero” motif.

MTT is definitely major in IF! As for whether or not he’ll have a hangout, time will tell. There’s definitely more to resolve with him, though.

I’m gonna remake at least a few of the older tracks, including Regret. My goal is just to bring the OST to a similar standard of quality.

So, animated parts coming up: Part 47, Part 49, Part 50. There may be some other parts, but we’re gonna wanna scale things back for a little bit for the sake of all our sanities.

I go with both. ;)

Honestly, probably fairly similar to the bully fight in the Ruins- which is why I ultimately decided not to do one. Both fill similar archetypes, though I think if I did do a battle, I woulda still had Flowey interrupt at the end and scare them off.

It’s a very emotional scene. Far more tragic than her geno death, IMO.

Well, the main goal in that regard is the remasters (Part 9 is in progress). Otherwise, I do think these hiatuses are good for working ahead. I’ve still gotta do more work, though, because my buffer this time around is a lot smaller from the trial-hiatus buffer. Alas!

Honestly, the website is the best thing to happen to IF. It’s allowed us to do so much with the comic’s presentation that would be impossible with imgur. NORIX IS THE BEST...

#inverted fate #ask dump #asks #undertale au #behind the scenes #undyne #frisk #papyrus #asgore #sans #alphys #lore #toriel #fallen humans

[summerspn]

Felicity

Tv series (1998-2002)

Spoilers...

I’ve gradually been watching Felicity for the past few months & have completed watching the series. I gotta say it’s charming & oddly addictive.

At the beginning of the series Felicity (Keri Russell) is an extremely shy & introverted character. She’s adorable. We see her proudly graduating high school but also feeling some trepidation about it. Naturally.

She sees her high school crush, Ben Covington, (Scott Speedman) at their high school graduation & decides to just go & talk to him. She regretted not getting to know him before. So she fixes that. Her yearbook had some sort of printing issue so they gave it to her on graduation day. So she asks Ben to sign her yearbook.

Surprisingly he sits down & writes a very thoughtful message to her. It’s sweet & inspiring. She decides to follow him to New York & she gets into NYU.

In tv land one can get into school in just a couple months - ya know completely ignoring the hundreds of people waitlisted lol That made me chuckle when watching. No big deal though.

Felicity gets to school & realizes Ben was just a nice guy & wasn’t in love with her of course. So she gets a bit of a reality check.

She makes a few friends & lives in the biggest dorm room on the history of planet Earth!

My room in my old dorm was ‘big’ and it had 3 feet of space between the beds...much bigger than my sister’s dorm lol

Felicity is likeable because she’s sweet, smart, shy & confused & just trying to figure her life out. All she knew is she didn’t want med school as her parents kept trying to shove it down her throat.

Ben is a nice guy who struggles with feeling stupid sometimes (though is actually really smart). He struggled with some of his classes & lacks a clear path for his major.

Occasionally Ben has these lines & that message in the yearbook which made me stop & go ‘you’re a writer’. I kept thinking he was going to become a writer...then in season four he decides to be a doctor. Okay...it was an alright decision & I like his academic plot lines in season 4 so no real complaints there.

We meet Noel Crane (Scott Foley)who is super dreamy. He’s smart, nice, outspoken but sensitive. A straight laced student & Resident Advisor (RA) who becomes Felicity’s friend & has a crush on her.

Throughout the series that’s the love triangle. It was interesting but there was far too much emphasis on it. Often it overshadowed the more interesting storylines on the show, IMO.

Noel pines for Felicity & loses sight of his life then soon graduates without a plan then later develops depression. I thought that was a great storyline. Noel’s family history of depression was compelling & how the character described it was very well done.

Back then tv shows didn’t talk about mental illness but this was handled delicately.

Noel gets help & gets better. He gets his life back on track, pursuing his dream of graphic design. There’s a line where he gets teased for liking computers...ya know as only ‘nerds’ like that stuff 😂

Felicity’s roommate Meghan Rotundi (Amanda Foreman) is a bit of a goth/Wicca practitioner. Every other character wear clothes I assume that are from The Gap so Meghan looks very different in her black mesh clothes & dark makeup. Nice contrast but I feel like Meghan’s development was overlooked for the most part of the series. She’s very blunt, unapologetic, sometimes mean...but she also cares for others even though she’ll deny it.

In her romantic life there’s growth but not academically. It’s only in the end of the last season does she realize she wants to pursue psychiatry. I think there were some missed opportunities there.

Though I will say I like that her uptight parents accept her for her quirks & clothing choices.

Sean Blumberg (Greg Grunberg) ...I have mixed feelings about his character. He’s an ambitious inventor & sort-of businessman. He owns a loft where Ben sublets /shares with him. Sean’s nice, caring & excitable. He’s also several years older. Around 5 or 6yrs difference I think.

His age difference was brought up several times, as if it were supposed to be important. In my last year of school I lived with a woman who was 15 years older than me. So what? Not a big deal. I’m not sure why the show kept pointing it out.

The only issue with his age is that at one point he’s 27 and STILL has no steady job. None! He’s all-in with his inventions that make no money & his family isn’t rich so how does that work now? He has a loft in New York with zero income? One episode talked of him owing money but come on, get rid of the loft, downsize then get a job, even if part time. *sigh*.

At the start of the series I liked Sean but then they turned him into a pathetic leech who gets mad & throws tantrums easily. He became incredibly annoying.

When I was near the end of the series I started to think that Sean would actually make a good salesman. Imagine him trying to sell cars, just the right amount of pushy. Though they put an episode in that made him look like a buffoon when making a sales pitch. So I feel like the writers were confused or trying to sabotage his character because he still ends up leeching off his buddy Noel & they end up business partners. 🤷‍♀️

Sean & Meghan date & eventually marry. I thought they were cute together at first but not as long term. I feel like Meghan would murder him due to being sick of his shit.

Elena Tyler (Tangi Miller) becomes a good friend to Felicity. All the ladies care for each other a great deal. Elena is very intelligent & a hard worker. She had a few romances & nearly got married. But I’ll be honest I found her boring. Not sure why. I think the most interesting part of her character was that she chose not to marry her fiancé Tracy. I thought it was a very smart move. And I found her background with her mom interesting but they didn’t do much with that.

Richard Coad starts out as an annoying member of the dorm. He & Noel become friends then later gets befriended by the group. Richard is a neurotic, blunt talking mess. He’s somehow still kinda adorable though does have some rough spots. I really liked him up through season 3. Season 4 he was in much less and then the writers turned him into a racist moron. Even if he had those thoughts I feel like his character would be more subtle & not as rude due to his overly developed sense of self preservation. Plus he’s not stupid, just blunt & a bit disconnected.

He did apologize but still it felt just so...wrong. Out of character even.

In any case I think the writers should have made him a little more like Rob Benedict, the actor who played him. Rob’s loveable.

Javier Quintata (Ian Gomez) is the owner at the coffee shop Dean & Deluca. He’s the boss but becomes very close with everyone, especially Felicity. I really liked him at first. Eventually his personal favours become outlandish & his stories started to make my eyes roll.

He & his devoted husband break up over non-issues. Why? It added nothing to the plot. Javier also wants to pursue acting at NYU. He’s really not good so it came off as a dumb idea & all scenes in acting class become annoying. I feel like the writers didn’t know what to do with him. I’d have preferred if he pursued a different dream- one that made sense. Like maybe all the years working with coffee & pastries inspires him to want to be a chef? 🤷‍♀️

Felicity. Throughout the series she’s shy, gradually getting more of a backbone. She admits to loving art & wants to pursue it. Her parents constantly pull her down , try to talk her out if it, even bully & manipulate her. She is for the most part uncompromising. I loved that! She held her ground & from a person like her, who always kept the peace at the expense of her own happiness, that’s amazing.

We see her grow though she spends far too much time angst-ing over Ben & Noel. Often she seems tortured with very few moments of being free & having fun.

I loved how in season 4 she befriends fellow artist Owen. I feel like that was huge. I loved how they went to galleries together & talked about their art & life. It was refreshing. I love that Felicity’s honours art class was so important to her & everything around that plot.

I hated however, how she always put others first.

So...I have to mention Felicity’s haircut from Season 2. I didn’t find it that bad...but apparently Keri Russell got death threats from it. Complete insanity!

Though I do think as it was 1999 back then, people were more uptight with personal style. If she had dyed her hair pink instead people would have flipped out too.

I do think there were better hair styles to choose from though. I think if she had a cut her hair to chin length & straightened it it could look pretty & still have a big impact. Something like that.

But honestly it’s just hair. I had a horrible haircut one year in university but it grew out on a few months & was fine. No big deal....but I wasn’t on tv so no one cared I guess 🤷‍♀️

In the ‘series finale’ , Felicity abruptly chooses medicine. Why??? That uncompromising love for painting just gone....And back to medicine? I wanted her to be an artist!

Every artist has a day job to support them. Felicity was acting like she was going to starve because she couldn’t sell her paintings.

I wish they found her a day job she really liked to support herself. I wanted her to be all-in.

Or they could find her a middle ground. That internship at the architectural firm, she could have realized she wanted to be an architect or something. Something other than medicine.

I really like though that she chose herself finally. Then Ben follows her to school. That was perfect. I just wished she didn’t want to be a doctor. I feel like that goes against everything she wanted.

Overall a great series. I love how they approach mental health - Felicity’s too. She was getting therapy regularly. It was nice to see. Very healthy.

I like JJ Abrams’ work but I (like everyone else) question the last several episodes. Nonsensical & out of place.

Personally I think the show should have put less emphasis on the romantic relationships & drama & more on self discovery by all characters. That’s more interesting...then sprinkle in a few moments here and there. A few episodes on love etc each season. We didn’t need the constant longing looks & drama of Will they won’t they.

I know I’m in a minority when it comes to such things but I feel the media - tv & movies especially focus WAY too much on the romance.

Then of course people like me who are borderline Asexual (except when it comes to fictional characters lol), I find it exhausting to always be bombarded with romance from all angles. However, if Felicity (and other shows) just used it occasionally & not every single episode I wouldn’t mind.

It’s just hard to care about a show if it just feels like it’s only about relationships and not much about life. But that’s just me.

The storylines that had me intensely interested in this show were:

- Ben’s relationship with his dad

- Ben gaining self confidence & realizing he’s actually smart

- Noel’s graphic designs & career

- Noel’s mental health

- Meghan’s rebellious nature & wanting to see what happens when she gets over the need to rebel (though we didn’t see much of it).

- Felicity’s parents’ attitude - I wanted them to see that they were wrong & admit it to her (though they don’t) 😞

- Wanting to see Richard find something he was really interested in & good at (which never happened)

- Wanting Felicity to have fun! Random silliness or parties...they rarely partied or did weird outings to things like paintball or bowling. College is for doing a million things. I wish tv land would do more if this

- Wanting Felicity to stop making decisions because of her love interests

- Wanting Felicity to go on a summer trip or internship to Europe on her own (never happened)

- Wanting Felicity to choose art (also didn’t happen) & support herself with either a job she simply likes (dog waking, tutoring, retail etc) or something in the art field (art therapy, illustrator etc)

To me these should have been the priorities & add romance occasionally...

But overall the series was good. The acting was really good from everyone. Even minor characters had pretty good actors. So well done!

The actors are great in other projects too. Keri Russell was in The Americans, even the Rise of Skywalker. Never saw them but I heard great things. Personally I really liked her in Austenland, August Rush, Mission Impossible 3 (small but great role), and I LOVED her in the movie Waitress.

Definitely give the actors a watch in other projects, even if you have mixed feelings about them in Felicity. They’re all good.

#felicity #felicity porter #keri russell #tv #tv serials #entertaining #ben covington #noel crane #scott speedman #scott foley #tangi miller #greg grunberg #amanda foreman #ian gomez #rob bennedict #jj abrams #drama #donald faison #college #love #90’s shows #the rise of skywalker #waitress #clueless #underworld #scandal #mission impossible #castle rock #lovecraft country #star wars

[jae-bummer]

Take the Lead

Request: Hey! Could you write a college au with Dino from Seventeen? Maybe with coffee shop study sessions that turn into not-actually-studying study dates? Thanks! -🌺

Pairing: Seventeen’s Dino x Reader

Genre: Fluff

You glanced apprehensively to your lab partner, hearing his voice for the first time all semester. 

“Your notes...?” he questioned again, slowly this time. He tilted his head to the side, emphasizing his request with the mere plea of his facial expression. 

“Right,” you said slowly. “My notes.” 

“From yesterday?” he trailed, now eying your binder. 

You gnawed on your lip as you followed his focus, glancing down to your notes as well. 

So you weren’t the best note taker, but your approach worked for you and that was what mattered. Doodles and different colors of ink decorated your page, emphasizing the sections you would pay the most attention to when you studied. 

You tried to ignore the small and awkwardly photo realistic sketches of your professor as a merman. 

“I can photo copy them...and bring them back for the next class?” he tried, looking up to your face again. 

You brought your attention back up to him as well, continuing to chew on your lip. The last thing you needed were copies of this mess circulating the halls of your university. 

“Or I can just...write everything down,” he hummed. 

Yes, yes, that was much safer. 

“Okay,” you said meekly, unclasping the rings of your notebook and sliding the pages over to him with a wince. “Sorry about all of...that.” You motioned vaguely to the paper. 

“No, no,” he chuckled shyly. “You have to stay awake in this class somehow.” 

You looked down to your hands in your lap and sighed. Chan, or as his friends called him, Dino, hadn’t been your first choice in lab partner. There wasn’t anything particularly wrong with him, you just didn’t know him. He was thin, toned, and conventionally handsome (if you were into dancer types....or well, men in general). He seemed kind and relatively quick at learning things. Somehow you had operated in the lab without speaking on most occasions, communicating based on body language alone. 

He was a dance major and you were not, both of you in this class simply to fill an elective. He was shy, mostly quiet, but laughed loudly where his friends were concerned. You had seen him around campus a few times, and you were pretty sure he was also in your English class. 

Overall, you didn’t have much to do with one another. And both of you seemed to have little issue with keeping it that way.

“Right,” you chuckled, letting an awkward silence last entirely too long between the two of you.

He nodded politely before tucking your pages in his notebook and looking up towards the professor’s lecture.

Glancing at Chan through your periphery as you did the same, you silently cursed at yourself. Could you be any more awkward?

.

.

In the following days, you had spent the better part of your time dwelling on all of the social missteps you took in your conversation with Chan. Your anxiety was hard at work with making you realize what an embarrassment you were, but nothing could make you feel any worse than what would happen in your next session.

“Thanks again,” Chan said with a tight smile as he slid your notes back toward you.

“No problem,” you sighed, giving the pages a quick glace before completely turning your attention to them. “Are...are these my notes?”

The paper you had turned over a few days ago was colorful enough, covered in various inks and designs, but this was completely different. Marring the blue and white lines was red ink. Everywhere.

“Sorry,” he hummed. “I took a few liberties of supplementing your notes with what I had read in the book and what I had heard from a study group I was in. By the time I realized what I had done...it looked like I stabbed your paper.”

“No kidding,” you hissed, glancing over the words. You could hardly see your own writing anymore, but quickly became preoccupied with Chan’s now covering the page.

“Some of the things you had...” he trailed, looking away from you with a blush on his face. “Were...uh...how should I say this?”

“Out with it,” you groaned, the annoyance of the whole situation prickling your skin.

“Inaccurate,” he said bluntly with a sad smile. “By not by a lot! Just small things here and there.”

That would explain your grade then.

You let your face fall into your hands and let out another groan. “I just can’t comprehend this stuff.”

“Have you thought about joining a study group?” Chan inquired. “I’ve been in one since the class started. I’m a dance major, so science isn’t necessarily-”

“Anatomy,” you muttered. “Science does help with dance. The way the muscles move and-”

“This is biology,” he hummed with a smile. You lifted your face and gave him a side eye. “I’m not sure what the life cycle of a banana slug is going to do for my modern dance final.”

“I haven’t thought about a study group,” you muttered finally. You didn’t feel like making a fool of yourself in front of multiple people.

“What about studying with me then?” he blurted, his cheeks instantly turning rosy with the suggestion.

“I don’t know,” you sighed. “I don’t want to burden you and you seem so busy...”

“So busy?” he chuckled. “Since when do you know my schedule?”

Okay, your turn to feel the tense heat of embarrassment begin to envelop your face.

“Meet me at the coffee shop by the student union,” he nodded. “We’ll go over these notes.”

All you could manage was a blank nod. “Right.”

.

.

You eased into an overly plush chair and began spreading out your books. He was late, or maybe you were a little too early. Fiddling with your pens nervously, you glanced around the small cafe. You had hardly spent any time here, except to run in and get the most energizing drink they could legally make for you.

Chewing on your lip, you glanced over the menu options. Maybe you could buy Chan a coffee to make up for him having to tutor you.

Study session, you mentally corrected yourself. That’s what he had called it.

“Hey,” Chan’s now familiar voice carried over the smooth jazz playing on the coffee shop’s speakers. He set down two cups on the table and smiled.

He was effortless. Even with his hair a mess and glances hiding his slim, angled face, he was handsome.

But you couldn’t think about that. You had to think about science.

And the fact that now, you couldn’t reward him with a coffee.

“I hope you don’t mind,” he hummed, sitting across from you. “I decided to get us both something while I was waiting.”

“I don’t mind at all,” you breathed, reaching toward the cup closest to you. “I did want to get your coffee today though...you know, payback for...this?”

“You have nothing to pay me back for,” he grinned. “We are the blind leading the blind, helping each other.”

“I think you may be a little more well versed in leading,” you sighed, looking over the notes he had written over yours.

“Maybe,” he chuckled, his cheeks turning pink again. For someone who was a trained dancer, you had assumed he didn’t mind a little flattery or attention pushed his way. Over the course of your brief interactions with him, it seemed to be the opposite. He was charmingly shy, and almost as embarrassed at the awkwardness of your interactions as you were. “You ready to get started?”

.

.

As the study sessions continued, so did the ease of your exchanges. It wasn’t long before the two of you had found a cadence in your meetings, finding yourselves in the coffee shop nearly every Saturday afternoon.

What had first began as uncomfortable hour-long blocks, slowly evolved into stretches of three to four hours, beginning with science, and ending with just about anything else. You grew to genuinely enjoy Chan’s company, and you had hoped that he grew to enjoy yours as well.

“Hey,” you greeted, stepping up to him as he waited for you outside of the cafe.

“Hey,” he grinned, readjusting his book bag on his shoulder.

“So today is photosynthesis or something?” you chuckled, reaching for the handle of the door. Just as you were about to pull it open, Chan’s hand found your wrist.

Looking up at him in surprise, there was a silent question on your face. Why?

“Uh...” he trailed, dropping your arm and instantly looking away. He ran a hand along the back of his neck before grimacing at the ground. “So I was thinking...”

“You don’t want to study with me anymore?” you croaked, your worst fears confirmed. It made sense. The semester would be winding to a close soon, so he wouldn’t need your assistance anymore. Any glimmer of hope you had to have been able to pursue a friendship...or something more...was snuffed out.

“Yes,” he sighed. “Well, no! Well, I don’t want to not study with you.”

“There were so many double negatives in that, I’m honestly not sure what the outcome was,” you sighed, crossing your arms.

“We can study for the classes we’re in together if you want,” he explained. “But I don’t want to just study with you.”

“You want to...?” you questioned, tilting your head.

“I want to go on dates with you too,” he nodded slowly. “In my head...these turned into study dates awhile ago...and I wasn’t sure how to transition it into...actual dates?”

“Actual...Actual dates?” you whispered, your eyes growing wide.

“I mean - if you don’t want to,” he quickly backpedaled. “We can just be study partners. We don’t have to like...hang out, and cuddle, or like hold hands or anything.”

“Is that what we’re to do on actual dates?” you chuckled, attempting to hide your amusement.

“I mean...I don’t know,” he grumbled. “I’m not good at this.”

“Sure you are,” you smiled. “You take the lead on most things, remember?”

“Not this,” he sighed. “Please quit torturing me. Would you like to go do something instead of study this afternoon?”

“I would love to,” you said, without letting a silence linger between the two of you. Chan’s shoulders immediately relaxed and a small smirk played across his mouth. “So where to?”

“No idea,” he grinned. “This is as far as I got in my head. If I thought any further, it would suck more when I got let down.”

“Did you seriously think I was going to say no?” you laughed.

“I don’t know,” he groaned. “It was a variable I wanted to prepare for.”

“If I said no, I assume our study sessions would become very awkward,” you teased. “And frankly, I can’t afford to fail this class.”

“Oh gee thanks,” he grinned, pointing with his chin to a miscellaneous spot in the distance. “Let’s get you a good grade then.”

#dino #lee chan #seventeen #seventeen fluff #dino fluff #chan fluff #dino scenario #dino fanfic #dino oneshot #dino drabble #dino college au #boyfriend dino #dating dino #chan scenario #chan fanfic #chan oneshot #chan drabble #chan college au #boyfriend chan #dating chan #seventeen scenario #seventeen fanfic #seventeen oneshot #seventeen drabble #seventeen college au #boyfriend seventeen #dating seventeen

[suicidalcatz]

Dog Days Are Over : Chap 3

AN : hi guys! A longer chapter in which we get to meet Jake for real. I had fun writing it, especially the dialogues, I hope you’ll like it. Next chapter will be next week, I’ll be abroad again but I’ll have more free time. I think we can categorize this as a slow burn / friends to lovers fic. The more I write ideas the more I know where this is going. Feel free to leave me feedback!

Pairing : Jake Kiszka x reader

Genre : College AU

Previous parts : Prologue ; Chap1 ; Chap 2

Masterlist : here

Chapter three : Mind if I join you ?

By the time I finished my assignment, birds were chirping and sunrays were piercing through the scraggy branches of the December trees. A pleasant fog had settled around school, covering  the park and the fields in a white blanket. Sitting by the windowshill, legs against the radiator, I was sipping my first tea/coffee of the day, but not of the night. My eyes were pricking with the familiar sensation of tiredness. Boy I knew this school was elitist but the amount of homework was impressive, I already missed sleeping. That was the main reason Mandy and I kept skipping parties, to be honest. I went half of the time to keep in touch with people, and be a little social. Mandy went more often and I didn't know how she could cope with that already infernal routine.

We were so busy painting and sewing that we napped whenever we had the time, every minute counted, we literally had no time to waste cooking or cleaning up the room we lived in. And the worst is that it wasn't even an excuse to our laziness, it was real.

Fabric of different colors and patterns were scattered accross the floor, a huge pile of canvas was pushed to a corner, our walls had my digits on them in the form of black dots because I didn't wash my hands after doing some charcoal drawing, and Mandy's sewing mannequin fully clothed in the middle of the kitchen always threatened to give me a heart attack whenever I went to the toilet and saw it in the corner of my eye. The good thing was that living together on campus and sharing a room was way cheaper than renting a place, and the legend was true ; art students really are broke. Sure it was smaller than we had expected, especially after filling it with all of our stuff, and we had to share showers and toilets with the other residents of the dorm but hey at least we had a little kitchen.

My phone alarm started ringing softly, and I immediately set if off, still gazing outside the windows at crows eating yesterday’s french fries and students already chatting, displaying posters for the Christmas school festival, and smoking in the designated area. Mornings really were for coffee and contemplation.

It turned out that my work paid off. Receiving compliments by the teachers was harder than expected but when they did congratulate me for my work, it felt twice as good. But that gigantic illustration got me running out of paper for the next assignment. Going to the school supplies store with a portfolio half my size was a pain in the ass, and feeling this enormous thing tug on my shoulder all day long was worst, but I had no choice. It was so unpractical that I accidentally kicked someone with it.

- Sorry I wasn't paying attention.

- No prob- Oh hey it's you.

- Josh ! Hi.

It was weird hearing his voice for the first time or at least talking for the first time, after having exchanged so many notes. I got cold just by looking at him, it's like he didn't even know it was Winter. Aside from a red and white flowered jumper, who definitely didn't seem warm at all, his tight jeans were cropped and he looked as extravagant as always. He had a very unique sense of fashion and I loved it, he really didn't look out of place in this school. A glance at his hands and I saw he came to buy some guitar strings. Before I could make small chat about it in order to break the ice, he saw me and addressed it, lifting the package in front of his face.

- That's for Jake, my brother. Playing the guitar isn't a part of my numerous talents.

So his name was Jake. Nice. I've been honestly so busy with work I had forgotten about him for a moment, but noneless mentally thanked Josh and his seemingly sixth sense for making things easier for me. The clerk was grumpy per usual, so we got out of the store before he could yell at us, and continued chatting in the hallway. It wasn't anything interesting, just getting to know each other a little. Much to my surprise, it wasn't awkward like I may have imagined it to be. Josh was a nice guy with great conversation and seeing him being at ease made me feel less shy too. He suddenly got in front of me and put a hand on my shoulder.

- So sorry about that ball of paper the other day, my pitcher skills are rusty.

- Not one of your talents either ?, I teased.

His expression softened before a small grin appeared on his face, nodding and shaking his finger like I just made a point. He gave me a light tap on the shoulder as the bell rang, cue for us that we should be in front of our respective classrooms.

- Let's meet here and have lunch together with Mandy, I'll show you real talent. We get out at 1 !, he added, running in the corridor past students to go to his next class.

Fuck, I really have to tell Mandy.

Having luch together wasn't exactly what I expected. But somehow, it made sense ?

After texting Mandy something along the lines of « Saw Josh while buying paper, he wants to eat lunch with us today ??? », I wondered how he knew our names and then remembered the teacher calling us last time because we were ''disturbing class''. Yeah no wonder Jake doesn't want to hang out with us. My eyes were on the clock the whole time I was in the workshop. Even without having to meet Josh, they were always. The atmosphere was heavy, nobody was allowed to say a word, not even « bless you » when another student sneezed. And it lasted four full hours. Thank God we could eat, drink and listen to music while painting (never understood this teacher's sense of priorities) otherwise I would've fell asleep on my canvas.

By the time I got out of my misery, Mandy was already waiting for me outside, assaulting me with questions. After little deliberation we thought it was best for us to run to our room to change, one of the pros of being in a boarding school. It was noon, and Josh said he'd go out at one, that let us some time to talk and wash away the paint from my arms.

- He said we had to meet them in front of the shop, I called from under the shower.

- What do you mean « them » ?

Turning off the water, I scrubbed my eyes. Yeah, what did he mean « we » ?

- I have no clue, he was in a rush. We should ask his number next time, if he wanna meet again.

- It'll save us three a lot of paper.

Letting out a snort, I got out of the shower, catching a clean shirt Mandy threw at my face for me to wear before going to meet Josh and whoever was with him. Boy oh boy was I not disappointed when I saw Jake's silhouette from the other end of the corridor. Panicking a little and trying to be discrete, I quickly glanced at the door behind me but Mandy caught it and put her hands on my shoulders to keep me from escaping this situation. It was so uncomfortable. The hallway was painfully long, just next to the cafeteria so sometimes someone would go out and slow us down, making things even more embarrassing. They made no move to meet us halfway but Josh interrupted his conversation with his brother to wave at us with a wide movement, shaking his arm in the air, which we replied by the tiniest gesture ever, the one you make at the supermarket when you see someone you really don't want to at the moment. That tiny wave of the hand, exactly.

- Hi ladies, I took the liberty of inviting my brother to the party, as he was feeling lonely without me.

- Not really, Jake interjected.

He greeted us with a smile and a charming nod, wearing actual winter clothes, in comparision to his twin. The dark oversized sweater and grey denim jacket looked good on him, like literally everything else, and I tried not to stare.

- Hi, I'm Jake, he said to cover Josh's pouting and complaints about him lying.

- I know, I half-whispered.

I got so busy staring at his brown eyes that I replied without thinking and now he was standing in front of me with a puzzled expression on his perfect face. Mandy poked me in the ribs, trying to save what was left of the chances of him wanting to have anything to do with us.

- Josh told us about you, she said with a convincing smile. Shall we eat ?

Not very subtle, but nice attempt to change topics.

- Oh yeah, let's go ! I have found the perfect place.

The ever enthusiastic Josh took the lead and we all followed after him as he showed and introduced every corner of the school like a real tour guide, only saying bullshit instead of real historical info, but judging by his interest in Art History class we weren't really shocked. What had us three surprised however was the place we were in when he exclaimed « Voilà ! ».

- It's a staircase, pointed out Jake.

- It's a place full of possibilities, corrected Josh.

Mandy gave me a look like they were both crazy and I could tell by her face she wondered how we got into that mess. Josh sat first and his brother, defeated, did the same, sitting by his side and motionning for us to join them. The patterned floor tile was cold as hell beneath me and I had so many questions I wanted to ask but didn't dare to do so-

- So why are we eating on the stairs ?

For a second I thought I had thought out loud but it was Mandy who broke the silence.

- See ?, Josh said to his brother, Told you eating in the park was best.

Jake shook his head like he couldn't believe it before looking at us.

- This crackhead wanted to have a picnic. It's literally freezing outside.

- So eating inside was your idea ?, I asked to made sure I understood.

With a nod, he took his backpack while speaking, unwraping his lunch from its aluminium foil.

- Yup. Looks like I'm the reasonable one. Didn't know we were gonna eat here though, he added with a little apologetic gaze.

- Well excuse me sir I did my best, Josh chimed in.

We couldn't help laughing a little, as Josh angrily tore the aluminium of his sandwich. What I also couldn't help was stealing glances at Jake who was sitting in front of me, by the window. It turned out the boy was less intimidating that I first had thought. Talking to him was nice, I had the feeling that he really care about what I said, looking me in the eye and nodding, listening intently before replying. He sounded like a quiet, composed, and cultured person, and I found his presence soothing. His low, raspy voice had a serene je ne sais quoi that I couldn't really explain. To top it off, his smile, just like his brother's, was mesmerizing.

- Still, said Mandy with his mouth full after someone made them move to use the stairs, you know we could've eat at the cafeteria, right ?

She teased and Josh started shouting again that he wanted a picnic, which made us all laugh because it was the hundredth time he had to justify his poor life choices.

- Oh yeah, I just remembered !

In a second, he calmed himself and his face lit up with the look of someone who just got a great (or terrible) idea. One thing I learned is that with Josh, it could've been both, we never knew. He fumbled in his bag in search of something, squirming, making a mess, giving his half eaten sandwich to Jake for him to hold and almost knocking him out with his elbow.

- I told you I'll show you real talent, he said with his head in his bag.

Four curious eyes turned to meet my gaze and I shrugged.

- He did ?, Jake wondered.

- Yeah, it made me freak out a little.

A little laugh escaped from his lips, and it was the cutest thing I had ever heard. Not that I'll admit it out loud. Thankfully, Josh interupted my staring contest with his twin and threw a bag of cheese balls our way. The sound it made almost covered the « Oh, not again » complaint from Jake and I quirked an eyebrow. Mandy opened the bag like she was asked to.

- Shoot, I'll catch.

Jake face palmed while Josh was already in position.

- That's the talent you were talking about ?, Mandy asked unsure. I don't know why, I should be surprised, but I'm not.

He was actually pretty good at it, if that was even something to be proud of. I could see her having a good time throwing chips his way and booing the rare times he missed.

- I swear they have after school contests with our brother.

Hearing Jake talking to me made my head jerk off of Josh. Brother ? Mandy caught the same info and paused the ball throwing to look at him.

- Do you guys have another brother ?

I took a sip of water while they were explaining, taking this opportunity to look at the hour just to make sure we won't be late to our next class as we were all in different buildings.

- Oh yeah, Sam, he's studying music too, but we're not in the same grade, said Josh. People often mistake him and Jake for twins even though he's the youngest.

This info almost had me choking on water imagining another Jake but fortunately, they mistook it for outrage that people would think that. By the time the bell rang, we learned that they all were staying in the dorms too, in another building. The twins shared a room together, whereas Sam and Danny, their best friend, shared theirs. We didn't exchange numbers, since Mandy forgot to ask and I was too shy to, but when we parted ways, they both left saying « See you later ».

#gvf fic #gvf x reader #gvf imagine #gvf fanfic #jake kiszka x reader #jake kiszka fic #jake kiszka imagine #josh kiszka fic #greta van fleet fic #greta van fleet imagine #greta van fleet #jake kiszka

[pceoxtgrlscout]

[ NICOLA PELTZ, 22, CISFEMALE, SHE/HER ] welcome to the du pont institute for the young & gifted, [ SCOUT ROTHSCHILD ]. you have been accepted as a [ REGULAR ] student from [ USA ], going into your [  SOPHOMORE / YEAR ] and majoring in [ DANCE ]. your peers at the institute say that you are [ +CONVIVIAL & +ZEALOUS ], but being [ -AUDACIOUS & -TURBULENT ] may be the reason why the police are asking about you. did you think they wouldn’t find out that you were michael’s [ BLACKMAILER ]? 

// heyooo !! i’m gray ,  ur friendly neighborhood bi girl. bear with me here bc it’s been a Very long day & honestly  i just hope this makes sense in the end. anyways here’s scout ,  i’ve played her a couple of times before but a little bit differently , so i’m still figuring her out !!

tw: death, drugs & alcohol, eating disorder mention (kind of?)

mini bio

fair warning --- this is a fuckin’ mess.

she was born in the wealthier side of brooklyn, her parents owned and operated a small business that kept them a little more than comfortable, around upper-middle class. being an only child, her parents spoiled her at every opportunity.

she was a troublemaker from the start, so her parents decided to enroll her in ballet classes when she was 5 years old as a way to teach her discipline from an early age. she took surprisingly well to it, loving it more than she thought she would have, and all of her teachers were surprised at her natural talent & flexibility. she stayed with it through adolescence / her early teens , but as the training became more vigorous & the pressure to be the best got more intense , she pushed herself too far & fell into a very unhealthy state --- little-to-no sleep , not enough eating between practice in the studio , not drinking enough water, isolating herself from everyone around her, etc. it wore on her physical state as well as her mental state, and her teachers & parents had no choice but to pull her out of dance so that she could recover. she went, practically kicking & screaming. the only thing that could get her to calm down was the promise that she could return if she got better. what she didn’t know , that was even at the end of her recovery , her parents would refuse to let her go back to dancing, regardless of how much she wanted to go back. this only made her already festering resentment towards her parents worsen, leaving her confused and angry and having to rethink her entire future.

her parents tried to make up for it by buying her nice, expensive things but it just made her angrier. nothing could replace the joy she felt while she was dancing.

from then on, scout was determined to put them through hell, doing every rebellious act she could think of. staying out past curfew, going to parties, drinking, cutting her hair, doing drugs, etc. they had put her into public school at that point, thinking placing her in a ‘normal’ environment would ‘fix’ her, but instead she was able to find others who would encourage her ‘bad’ behavior. she struggled to find her way at first, having spent her previous years at a private ballet school where every student you pass holds their chin up like they’re better than everyone else. her designer clothes & pretty face earned her popularity fairly quickly, but she didn’t quite have the social status to make it to the ‘top of the pyramid’. she had more friends than she could count on both hands , but only a few that she considered close.

when she turned 18 , one of her friends (!! possible connection) convinced her to get into stripping. she wanted to make her own money, completely separate from her parents, something she did for herself. she also saw it as a way to finally dance again. her flexibility & strength from years of being a ballet dancer made it easier to learn pole dancing, which she ended up taking classes for --- she wanted to be the best after all.

she got really heavy into drugs & alcohol again, it being hard to stay away from it when she’s surrounded by it at her workplace. she falls pretty easily into peer pressure when it comes to stuff like that, but mainly because she wants to feel good & so she treats it as an escape.

she sees sex as just one of the many pleasures of the world & she doesn’t think anyone should be judged for how much sex they have or don’t have. like if sex is your thing, cool, if it’s not ? also cool. it’s def her thing. it doesn’t bother her that she shows her body to complete strangers every night , she knows she’s in control & she loves it. she’s had her fair share of bad experiences at work --- ie. men touching her in places they shouldn’t, trying to take advantage of her, getting her drunk in hopes they would sleep with her ( & sometimes she would if she wanted to lmao ),  she’s been followed home on a couple occasions. that’s why she learned how to defend herself, picking up little tips from other girls & even going to a few self-defense classes. she’s been through enough to know that you can only really depend on yourself these days.

when her parents discovered what she was doing after hours, they were determined to put a stop to it. they knew they wanted to send her to school, and when they found du pont they knew it was the perfect choice. the only way they could get her to agree to go is if she could finally study dance again. they reluctantly agreed, making a few calls to the admin department to ask that they keep a keen eye on her to make sure she didn’t overwork herself like she has in the past. although her ballet technique was rusty, she was more interested in other forms of dance so it didn’t matter. as long as she could have the freedom to learn everything she can about becoming a professional dancer.

what her parents don’t know ( and won’t ) is that she never stopped stripping, loving how empowering it makes her feel. she doesn’t hide it from anyone else, not being the least bit ashamed about dancing. she’ll gladly teach any girl who wants to know how to pole dance as well, having built up quite the level of skill over the past few years.

the only person in her family that knows she still dances is her older brother, only because one night he and his buddies decided to go out to the strip club. it was horrific for both of them when she came out on stage in next to nothing, especially since she didn’t realize that he was there until he approached the stage and hissed her real name under his breath. it took all night and a few rounds to convince him to keep his mouth shut about it to their parents, even though he didn’t exactly approve of his sister taking her clothes off in front of strangers every other night. he knew he wouldn’t be able to stop her from doing it, even if he told his parents. he didn’t want to jeopardize his relationship with his little sister by taking away the one thing that keeps her going.

i’ll make a separate post about scout’s connection to michael, just working out the details first !! 

#dupont.intro

[dammitadolfnomorecake]

Caramel skin under a vanilla sky

Daibazaal, the planet of purple and black that seemed designed to keep Keith constantly off guard and directionally misplaced. Living in what was once Zarkon's residence still refused to sit well with him, even a year and a half after the fall of Honerva and the return of the planet he now called home with his mixed up family. Woken from his first real nights sleep in a phoeb by Axca's persistent knocking, he held his temper as he dressed. They were all exhausted. His team at any rate. Running relief missions was fulfilling in its own ways, but since had started to spread through the known universe he'd felt himself pining for the glory days of Voltron. The thrill of the fight. The feel of his lion beneath his hands. The constant bickering of his adopted castle family. It was all gone now. They'd all started to go to their seperate ways yet despite swearing to be friends forever. It wasn't like they didn't regularly catch up, weekly phone calls were very much a thing, and when the Atlas was close enough, he'd take the time to swing by to catch up with Shiro and Curtis personally, as well as Hunk and Shay, sometimes Pidge if she happened to be on board too. Dressed casually, Keith whistled at Kosmo to follow, his hands jammed into the front pocket of his black jeans as he wandered through the busy halls, a step behind Axca the whole way. Working with Axca, Zethrid and Ezor was rewarding, yet it failed to thrill him the way Voltron did, then there was the whole crush thing Axca had been nursing for him, which he'd been blind too until she'd asked him out and he'd known in the moment she was absolutely not the one for him. No. He'd fucked things right up with the one person he'd liked back on Earth and learned his lesson from his mistake. He didn't need to love anyone outside the weird collection of friends he'd made over the past few years in space. Sighing to himself, Axca turned to smile at him "You would think they'd let us rest" "Yeah. But you know mum and Kolivan. If you're breathing, you can take a mission" His mother dating Kolivan was another reason not to come back home as often as he did. It wasn't that he had anything against Kolivan at all, he didn't know how to act when they were holding hands or leaning into each other. Kolivan was still the same hard taskmaster he'd always been, and his boss... who was now dating his mother, which lead to mental images he definitely didn't need. Following Axca into the control room, Kolivan and Krolia were waiting for him. Kolivan frowning deeply as he approached with Kosmo, earning him a nudge in the ribs from Krolia "Keith! I'm sorry to wake you, but we need you for a mission immediately" He'd already deduced as much. Following the pair over to one of the tables, his mother started pulling up files on its holotop "We have a missing operative. He was on his way to an arms deal when we lost contact with him. He's now over a movement late reporting in, and no sign of him has been seen at any of the rebel camps in the Ghazex quadrant" Reaching down, Keith manipulated the files with his finger tips. It seemed all above board, the sellers of the goods honestly not caring where their clientele came from provided they paid up front and collected the goods from the designated coordinates "You want me to head out there and check for signs of life?" "We've been in contact with rebel forces and they found nothing. The weapons themselves aren't so important as the intel that could be gained through interrogations. There've been a number of odd occurrences in the sector space, that's why the meet was arrange there. Guile felt sure there was a link there between these occurrences and the gun runners" Guile barely looked older than Shiro, despite being four times his age. Nodding, Keith transferred the files to his wrist communicator "I'll leave immediately" Looking up from the table, his mother and Kolivan shared a long look at each other as they silently communicated, Kolivan giving a small nod of his head, granting his mother permission to continue "Keith. We're sending you alone on this one. You'll need to stay below the radar. If it proves to be nothing, then take your time coming back. You're supposed to be on standby as it" "I'm fine. You worry too much" "I'm your mother, it's my job" He was already 23, practically 24, he didn't need his mother's constant worry. He ran his own team, had fought in countless scuffles before their lions had left, and afterwards. He really didn't need his hand held. Quiznak, he'd even been nominated to rule the whole damn planet... Crossing his arms, he frowned at his parental figures "I'll be fine" "Why don't you give Shiro a call once you've checked things out? It's been a while since you saw any of the others" "Mum. If there's something you're trying to say, say it already" "I'm not trying to say anything. It's simply been a while since you spent some quality time with them" "I talk to them every weekend by video call. They're all fine" "But when is the last time you saw them?" "A few weeks ago? Before the last mission?" "You've only seen them once since Allura's memorial. Curtis is driving Shiro crazy" Keith raised and eyebrow. That couldn't be right. He distinctly remembered dinner with Hunk and Shay, with Curtis and Shiro casting enough sideways glances at each other to make Hunk blush in second hand shame. After the death of Adam, Keith knew his adoptive brother was capable of moving on, despite how deep the wound ran. It'd only been a matter of weeks between Adam's death and their return. As Adam's brother, Curtis understood Shiro's pain in a way Keith couldn't. Curtis had been there for Adam, he'd been there as Adam had fallen apart over their broken engagement, Shiro's disappearance, the reappearance of Sam Holt... and somehow along the way they'd bonded deeply yet both were hesitant to take the next step so as to not tarnish Adam's memory. Keith personally thought Adam was a dick for breaking off the engagement when all Shiro wanted was one last trip to space. They'd both hidden from him how much Shiro had suffered with his condition, Keith not noticing the subtle small ways Adam would check how Shiro was fairing with just a touch or a look. Now Curtis was the one to cast Shiro those subtle looks, his people skills having sharpened drastically since he'd first left Earth. That's what happened when you had a loud mouth like Lance for a best friend and right hand man. Out of all of them, Lance was the one who'd constantly surprised him, such as his choice to say goodbye to space in order to be a farmer "How do you know about Curtis and Shiro?" "Because unlike you, I've spoken with him. Take some time off after this mission and go see him. It'll be good for both of them, and for you" "I was going to take some time off now that we've returned" "Excellent. Look into the disappearance then take your break" Right. The mission. His thoughts definitely shouldn't be shifting towards Hunk's fine dining skills which left everything he'd eaten since lacking. There was a whole planet out there, yet food goo still seemed to make up the basis of most long term supplies for the Blades "Keith?" Huffing at his mother, Krolia continued to stare at him "I'm going already. I'll call you when I find a lead" Axca fell in behind him as Keith left to pack "I could come with you, if you need an extra set of hands" "You heard Krolia. I need to stay below radar" "You have a habit of getting into trouble when left alone" You fly the ship in the wrong direction once and they never let you forget it "I'll be fine Axca. Take your time to relax. We've been working nonstop this last phoeb. Maybe you could take some time to check in with Veronica?" "She's busy" Keith could hear the pout in her voice. Axca had formed a firm friendship with Veronica during their time on Earth. Despite having confessed her feelings for him, Keith was sure that Axca was harbouring a crush on his so called rival's elder sister. With Zethrid and Ezor in a long term relationship, he wasn't sure what was stopping Axca from seeking out the same happiness "Then call her again" "I have. Twice. I don't think she's accepting my calls" "Have you tried since we returned?" "No" "There we go then. Kosmo, take us to my room" Grabbing a fistful of his wolf's fur, the jump across the palace was instant, saving him from dishing out more bad relationship advice. He'd had plenty of stupid crushes that had never amounted to anything more than a momentary fixation that served to confuse him even more. The highlight of his nonexistent dating life had been receiving the sex talk from Shiro who'd been just as red as Keith was by the end of it. Unfortunately, he'd had to suffer through the same talk with his mother... with Kolivan present. A two phoeb relief mission hadn't eased his embarrassment over the whole thing, as he'd found himself unable to meet Kolivan's eyes for longer than he'd cared to admit. Grabbing out his go bag, he packed light. Most of his things were already aboard his private ship on the off chance he'd be randomly evicted like he was currently being. His ship was nothing like Black. There was no magical mental bond to keep him distracted or reassure him when things went wrong, but it had been a gift from his mother so held some sentimental value "Ok, boy. Let's go before I give into the urge to crawl back into bed. Can you believe they're sending me out again so soon?" Yipping and teleporting across his room, Kosmo had far too much energy. Or maybe he was getting too old for all of this shit. His bed was a crumbled, yet inviting mess, that almost begged for him to crawl back beneath the covers for at least another 6 to 12 vargas of sleep. Catching hold of Kosmo as he teleported again, his wolf teleported him straight into the cockpit of his ship "Good boy. Let's get this show on the road" * With 9 vargas between him and his destination, Keith took his mother's advice. Pulling up his com's list, he thumbed through his contacts where he accidentally hit Lance's name. Each time he'd talked to his friend had been hard. Keith unable to forgive Allura for hurting Lance like she did, despite understanding her sacrifice had been necessary. Her death had shook Lance to his very core, and had left him shaken for months after the fact. Being Lance he'd cried, cracked jokes, then announced he was staying on Earth. His best friend's parents relieved to see their son not leaving again, and the term Voltron was spoken in hushed tones right up until the day they'd left him behind. Lance hadn't even come to see them off. "Yo! Leandro, turn that thing off" Catching sight of bright neon lights, what looked like some kind of club, then an awkward downward angle of two sets of legs, Keith rushed to apologise for the misdial, only Lance cut him off first "Hey. Sorry man. Now isn't good. Talk later" With that the call was dropped. Keith frowning down at his communicator as his brain kicked into gear. That was definitely Lance's voice... but who the fuck was "Leandro"? And that city... it didn't look like it was on Earth, though it had been some time since last visited. Earth was recovering and rebuilding, it didn't make sense to concentrate all their resources on the planet when other smaller planets were in greater need. Besides, Pidge was there, her family having taken over training and building the next generation of space fighter jets. If they needed the help, they could always recall the Atlas. Shaking off the weird call, he was extra careful not to click Lance's name as he scrolled back through his contacts, first thinking of calling Shiro, then remembering he'd probably wish to talk about Curtis and that he'd be no real help there, scrolling back up, he tapped Hunk's name as he pulled the call up onto the ship's screen. It was only a few short tick's before the former Yellow Paladin's face filled his screen "Keith! Hey man, is it that time already?" That time being their preorganised once a movement call "No. I was going to call Shiro, but Krolia filled me in on the Curtis situation" Sighing deeply, Hunk nodded "It's driving all of us mad. Anyway. What's up?" Hunk was clearly in the kitchen, Keith could hear the soft sounds of a blade against a chopping board. His communicator must have been placed on a shelf or something so he could take the call "If you're busy, I can call back?" "No! No, man. It feels like its been ages" "You know what it's like, one mission after the next. Axca's been trying to contact Veronica, but she hasn't been taking her calls" "Things have been crazy here. That and she's been dodging calls from home" "That sounds like something Lance would do" Hunk nodded "That's exactly what he's been doing. His mother wants her to go check in with him in person, but Veronica insists Lance is doing what he needs to do" What now?" "I thought he was on Earth?" "No? Didn't he tell you? He took a job on Erathus not long after Allura's memorial. Being his best friend, I thought he would have told you" No. Lance hadn't said anything... that was what... at least 5 phoebs in space and he'd said nothing. Forcing a smile the best he could, Keith nodded back at Hunk "It slipped my mind. Have you heard from him?" "No. He took a job working security, and apparently he's been having a blast. He can't call all the time, but I know he keeps in contact with Veronica" "You're not worried?" Looking into the camera, Hunk gestured with his knife "We both know how messed up he was after Allura. I feared he'd given up his dream of space completely. If he's enjoying his new line of work, then good for him" Messed up... was one way to put it "Yeah. Anyway, I'm going to sign off, you know a Blade's work is never done. Krolia's insisting I take a vacation after this mission, so we might be catching up sooner than you think" "Please come talk some sense into Shiro over this Curtis thing" Snorting, Keith shook his head "I am the last person who should be giving relationship advice to anyone" "Don't sell yourself short, man. You're the number one bachelor in the universe" "Now you sound like Lance" "What can I say, he rubs off on you. Take care of yourself, and I'll let Shiro know you called" "Thanks, Hunk. You too" Signing off, Keith slumped back in his pilot's chair. Lance was in space and he seemed to be the only one who had no idea. Did Pidge know? Probably. Leaving Earth required notifying the Garrison. If Pidge and Hunk knew, then Shiro would have to. Did Axca know? If she didn't before, she would now. And why was Lance on Erathus? Erathus was the playground for the rich. Kind of like the Hollywood of old reborn with the boom in interest when it came to all things Earth related. Earth wasn't exactly the closest of planets, so a barren planet had been cultivated then gifted the Erathus in reference to their Earth. None of this should be bothering him as much as it was. Lance had made it clear where they stood. Attempting to make his best friend feel better after the loss of his girlfriend, they'd gotten wasted on Nunvil and fallen into bed together. It was sloppy, they hadn't even had sex, just some awkward alcohol driven mutual masturbation as they made out then passed out drunk without cleaning up. The following morning Lance was gone. Keith know that for Lance it was an ugly mistake that never should have happened, his own heart felt as if it'd broken when Lance acted like nothing had happened, then admitted that the whole night was a blank when Shiro had teased them over drinking. So rejected by his crush, Keith had pushed his pain down to be there for Lance, only for Lance to decide he wasn't coming back to space. Coran had coaxed him as far as Altea by requesting his help in erecting Allura's monument, and speaking of her to the people of Altea, but if it wasn't Allura related it seemed to mean nothing to the Cuban now. Whining softly at him, Kosmo nosed at him with his wet nose "I know. I'm being pathetic. He already rejected me, yet here I am thinking of him all over again. Come on, let's get some sleep?"

#Omega Lance #vld #klance #Laith #bottom lance #top Keith

[meshkol]

Day 5 of Kinktober 2018: Shotgunning

Tags: shotgunning, marijuana use, drug use, unrequited love, angst

Pairing: Stony

I have no idea where this came from.  It was originally going to be WinterIron, but then this just happened.  I don't even know.  I like it though.  Unbeta'd as per usual, and there's no character bashing here, just so you know.  Enjoy.

Also read on ao3!

He slips out of the party for fresh air and a moment’s quiet.

He gets why it’s going on of course – they’ve won the war, and everything broken has been repaired, and pardons have been issued, and peace has been achieved – but there’s only so much schmoozing he can do before he uses up his seemingly infinite well of patience and needs to take a moment for himself.  That infinite well has been running dry for years because once he’d found out that Bucky was alive, he hadn’t allowed himself to rest or recuperate until he had finally found his best friend, and after that his entire reality had gone to hell.  The split with the Avengers over the Accords, needing to always be comforting and a strong leader for the people he had brought down with him, Thanos...it’s been non-stop, and he hasn’t had a moment to himself for years, giving every iota of himself to his team and eventually to the entire universe itself.

But now he can take a moment, suck in a deep breath, rest.

He wanders through the Avengers compound, the dark corridors silent and still under FRIDAY’s watchful eye, and recollects himself, allowing himself this moment where he can just be without having to put on a mask of power and justice and collectedness. It’s nice to just wander around in a place he now calls home, every fibre of carpet and every molecule of air familiar and safe, and not for the first time, he feels bone-deep gratitude that he’s able to be here, with the people he calls family in this facility that makes him feel secure, despite everything that’s been thrown at its inhabitants over the years.

He’s not sure how long he wanders, lost in his thoughts and gathering his mental fortitude to return to the party, when he smells smoke.

He pauses, tense as his sensitive nose breaks down the scent of it, and when he’s convinced that it’s simply the sharp, pungent odour of marijuana, he relaxes, because it means that nothing’s burning.  It’s an odd smell in this area of the compound, because the smokers have designated areas with air filtration systems to eliminate odour and this section of the compound – the Avengers training areas – don’t have one of those.  Those sections are sequestered near the living areas, the kitchen, and the staff areas, to eliminate a sizable walk for a cig.

It’s even odder here. Only a few people have access to this wing, as it houses and supports the Avengers directly, and none of the Avengers smoke.  Well, marijuana at least – he knows that Rhodes enjoys the occasional cigar, and Clint and Tony had partaken in the occasional cigarette back when Tony had been...well, going through everything.  Still, Rhodes is a stickler for the rules (and he’d been quite busy with Hope and Sam, all of them remarkably drunk, so he knows that it’s not Rhodes), and the other two are in a better place now, not resorting to vices like drugs and alcohol to cope with the horrors life keeps throwing at them.  In any case, he’s never smelt marijuana in the entire Avengers complex, and while he’s certainly for any medication use (including marijuana, courtesy of an hour-long lecture from Sam waxing poetry about how it can help so much for all sorts of people, including war veterans and trauma survivors), he hadn’t been aware that anyone smoked it.  Well, other than Tony, but that had been years ago.

Though, now that he thinks about it, Tony had hopped out of the festivities a while back and therefore Tony’s the only one that he’s not currently tracking.  It hadn’t been a surprise that Tony hadn’t stayed long; between being sober and the past years of trauma, shoving him in a room full of celebrating, drunken people isn’t exactly the best idea, as Tony had said with his usual, wisecracking nonchalance (laced with self-deprecating humour that Tony tries to hide but doesn’t quite have the strength to anymore). ‘Tempting a sleeping beast,’ he had said, grinning, but the wide smile hadn’t reached his eyes.

Tony doesn’t smile like he used to, and it’s a damn travesty.

Steve Rogers – little, bumbling Stevie, who volunteered for an experiment to win a war and came out looking like he does, but still doesn’t know how to use it all outside of a fight and doesn’t know how to really connect with people without it being about his image – takes a deep breath and follows the scent to the balcony.

He leans against the open glass door for a long moment, just observing.  Tony’s the first thing that he notices, leaning over the clear glass balcony and looking out to the distant New York skyline, a blunt in between his almost elegant but strong fingers.  Tony’s hard to miss, even in a crowd (always so big, his infamous personality and charm making him seem ten feet tall when he really is just a man, a man who’s been crushed by the weight of the universe and suffered for it), but here, alone in the very-early hours of an autumn morning, he’s utterly poignant. The perimeter lights illuminate him dimly and the smoke is curling round his head like a moth, and he looks so tired in the poor lighting (or maybe he’s simply washed off the expensive concealer that he liberally applies to the dark bags under his eyes).  Steve looks him up and down – short, compact body with that lean waist and strong muscles, greying hair getting longer now and slightly curling around his ears, and Steve can’t help but acknowledge for the umpteenth time that Anthony Stark is a handsome man.

It’s always been a tickling thought in the back of his head, wondering what it would be like to touch Tony’s skin and see him shiver, feel him pressed against Steve and Steve licked every millimetre of him, but it’s never been anything too distracting. Tony, despite his clear attractiveness and intelligence, had rubbed Steve the wrong way until he had been forced to examine the reasoning behind Tony’s every action and word, which had nipped any true possibility for attraction in the bud back then. Surprisingly, considering everything, it had been Wanda to explain it to him.  ‘I’ve been inside his head, for better or for worse, and for the most terrible purpose,’ she had said quietly, when he had been warring between guilt that he’d destroyed the lives of his family and the anger that Tony hadn’t listened, had fought people he called allies and friends once, had struck at Bucky, for God’s sake, a man who had been through too damn much himself. ‘He suffers, every single day, Steve, and when you live in a spotlight that the whole world is watching, you put on a mask.  The mask Stark wears is strong and hard and malleable with long use, but it is just a mask, and you do not know his mind like I do.  He is hurting, full of guilt and sorrow, and he fights just as strongly as you to give the illusion that everything will be fine, that everything will be better, even when everything is falling apart around you.  I have spent my entire life hating him Steve, but you cannot blame a man for doing what he thinks is right, even if you don’t agree with his actions, and in hindsight perhaps we should agree. However, in the end, he is human, and he is doing the best he can in a world that will do nothing but break him.’

Steve still doesn’t think he’s ever heard words that opened his world so dramatically since he’s come up from the ice.

Steve can see Tony for what he is now: a man who was shaped by traumas both old and new, who was trying to assuage his guilt by seeking oversight and giving reparations, who puts on a face to protect himself in his softest spots, and who overcompensates with sharp humour and tactlessness in order to assure the world that he is strong and unruffled enough to protect the innocent.

Steve gets that, because he does the same thing, albeit with different mechanisms, and that’s probably the reason why they were never able to really bridge the gap back then.  God knows it’s been better since joining forces to defeat Thanos, though, now that Steve can see underneath the mask Tony displays to the world, and surprisingly, they’ve come a long way since then. Steve, for the first time since meeting Tony Stark, can safely say that he would give his life for the man, can call him family and have it feel honest.

Though, if Steve’s current respect and affection he as for Tony means that he dreams about taking Tony apart with every trick he’s read about, then it’s not like anyone has to know. It’s not like anything would ever come out of it anyway – Tony wouldn’t touch Steve with a bargepole, and honestly Steve doesn’t really blame him.  Even though Steve knows that he’s made some right choices and Tony’s made bad ones, that sometimes he was right and Tony was wrong, it doesn’t change the fact that Steve’s made far more mistakes than Tony has, and maybe Tony’ll truly forgive him for it one day, but Steve can’t blame him if he doesn’t.  There are some things that Steve can’t forgive Tony for, so it’s only fair.

Tony Stark is not someone Steve can have, and while he thinks about him too often to be healthy, he’s still at peace with it.

“You curing your asthma?” Steve finally says lightly, after he’s glanced at the silent, dimly illuminated grounds and sees no other living soul around.  He’s not surprised by that either; with the revelry going on in the public wing, he can’t imagine that anyone would want to get away from that. Even Natasha is enjoying herself, having a few drinks and as she mends things with Bruce, both of them accepting that that relationship will never bloom now but wanting to remain friends despite everything.

Tony doesn’t jerk or startle with surprise, which figures.  FRIDAY had probably told him of Steve’s approach before Steve had even made the conscious decision to journey outside.  Instead, he brings the blunt to his lips and takes a deep drag, holding the smoke in his lungs for long seconds before exhaling slowly, the cloud of smoke billowing around his face.  Once it’s all but dissipated in the slightly chilled breeze, Tony says in a low murmur, “Must’ve been a hell of a time, growing up in the forties, when they gave you smokes and weed for lung issues and heroin for everything else.”

“It had its moments,” Steve says, then adds, “though a lot more people died back then, from cancer and who knows what else.”

In profile, Tony’s lips quirk, and then he turns to lean against the glass railing so he can face Steve directly.  “I can���t imagine you stoned,” he says, chocolate brown eyes scanning Steve’s body as if trying to do just that.  It’s oddly exposing, being looked at as if he’s being dissected by Tony’s genius mind, and Steve almost wants to look away and wrap his arms around his body.  Tony continues, “Were you paranoid as hell or did you smile more instead?”

Steve purses his lips, trying to work out Tony’s angle, and then huffs.  “I’ve never done it, so I wouldn’t know.  Does it make you smile more?”

Tony shrugs one shoulder, takes another lingering drag, and then steps forward.  His gait is steady and strong, but as Tony gets closer to the brighter lights in the corridor, Steve can see that Tony’s eyes are a bit glassy and bloodshot, even if he doesn’t look worse for wear.  He turns when he’s too close and heads to the chairs nestled in a corner, dropping into a chair and draping himself lazily in it. He motions to the other chair pressed against the building as he flicks off accumulated ash into a metal ashtray, and Steve meanders over, relaxing a bit into the white cushions and turning a bit in Tony’s direction.

Finally, Tony admits, “Not really, but I do think really deep thoughts.  I can get a remarkable amount of brainstorming done, and God knows I can stomach SI board meeting better.  Here, try it.”

“It won’t work,” Steve says, eyeing the proffered blunt.  He’s not adverse to smoking – he had used his ‘prescription’ for asthma when he was growing up, not realising that the cigarettes were actually making his health worse, so he’s certainly no stranger to it.  He also knows that marijuana is relatively harmless (and it’s not like Steve can get normal illnesses, thanks to the serum, so he’s safe no matter what he decides to put in his body outside of napalm or something) and after hearing Sam’s lecture, he’s all for anyone using it.  Knowing Tony, who’s practically allergic to therapy, he’s probably using it to cope, and Steve can’t fault him for that, especially when he could be falling back on his toxic habits of alcohol and prescription drug use. Still, Steve’s pretty immune to pretty much everything, and he doesn’t see the point of trying it if it probably won’t work.

Then again, maybe it would, and maybe the voices in his head screaming at him for the choices he’s made will finally go away for a blessed moment.

He takes it and lifts it to his mouth, pulling deeply and trying not to think about his lips wrapping around something Tony’s own have touched.  His lungs are strong enough and his muscle memory vivid enough that he doesn’t cough, and he mimics Tony’s long pause before he blows it out smoothly. It’s weirdly flavourful in his mouth, something very...earthy and sharp.  He can’t really explain it, but it’s much nicer than the ashy, bitter flavour of the cigarettes he remembers from the forties, and he smacks his lips as he tries to connect it to something familiar.

“Huh,” Tony says, and he sounds a bit taken aback.  His arm is still outstretched towards Steve, fingers lax in surprise.  “I didn’t think you’d actually do it.”

Steve fights the urge to roll his eyes and brings the blunt back to his lips.  He inhales once more, this time the pull a bit hotter and biting as he burns it closer to the end, and reaches to snuff the nub out in the ashtray.  He rolls his tongue in his mouth, tasting pleasantly sharp flavour of the smoke, and then exhales as he says, “I might be an old man without a lot of real-life experience, but I know my way around this sort of thing.  I’m not nearly as stuffy as you all make me out to be.”

“This coming from the man that made me and Hope shake hands after we got into a bitch-fest and constantly tells us to watch our language,” Tony mutters as he reaches to a small tin on the little table between their chairs.  He opens it up, revealing one last blunt, and lifts it to his lips, lighting the end with a deep inhale and offering it to Steve once again.  Steve takes it, ignoring the tingle in his hands and his fingers brush Tony’s, and inhales as Tony continues, “Still, it’s weird. Good-weird, I guess, even though I guess I shouldn’t be egging you on, but still weird.”

“You didn’t egg me on, Tony; I’m a grown man capable of making decisions, and we both know that I’m too stubborn to be goaded into something like this,” Steve says around his mouthful of smoke, and he actually quite likes it, the taste and the smell and the way it feels in his lungs.  He can’t feel anything, which isn’t surprising, but when he glances over, Tony’s smiling, one of his big grins that brightens his eyes and takes years off his face, and maybe it doesn’t matter that Steve can’t get stoned.  He hasn’t seen Tony smile like that in literal years, and he feels a bit lightheaded at the fact that it’s directed toward him of all people.

“You are stubborn.  Probably why we drive each other so batshit all the time,” Tony says with a laugh, but there’s something in his eyes as he watches Steve take another drag.  If Steve was being gracious, he’d probably call it desire, but it’s probably just appreciation that Steve’s relaxing a bit and letting this private interlude be soft and light instead of heavy and filled with ghosts.  Nevertheless, seeing those dark eyes focus on him, bright with amusement but half-lidded and focussed on Steve’s mouth, is actually rather arousing, and he can’t help but swallow thickly as he blows out the smoke. He crosses his legs as naturally as possible, even though he’s certainly not hard, but he still feels the longing in his blood.

“Gimme, you good-for-nothing bastard; you’re hogging my weed,” Tony says and Steve laughs himself, not able to tear his eyes away as Tony wraps those shapely lips around the end and pulls.  Tony’s eyes close, long lashes fluttering against his cheek and casting shadows along his face, and Lord, is Tony gorgeous. Perhaps Steve is feeling something, because he feels a bit tingly and lightheaded, but it can’t be, because no painkillers or alcoholic beverage has been able to affect him since the serum.

A flash – Tony on his knees, wide mouth stretched around him, or Steve on his knees instead – of fantasy, and then he has to look away as he jokes back a bit thinly, “You offered, and besides, you’ve had more than I have.”

“I bought it, I smoke it. Get your own green,” he snarks back, and he almost sounds like his old self.  He slumps even further into his chair, grin tapered off into a small quirk of his lips, and asks, “Do you ever wonder how it would’ve been if we had started like this, instead of how it did?”

Steve sighs, relaxes back against the soft cushions of his own chair, and replies heavily, “Every single day, Tony.  Every single goddamn day.”

He expects a jibe at the language, but instead Tony says quietly, “Me too.  I think I could’ve...”  He trails off, looking a bit wistful, and Steve wants to hear the rest but he can’t bear the thought of hearing it at the same time.  Steve regrets a lot of choices he’s made and stands by the rest, but he can’t stomach knowing what could’ve been had he just opened his eyes sooner, what he’s lost because of the path he walked down.  He thinks it would kill him if Tony could have reciprocated even a tiny sliver of the emotion (it’s love Steve, don’t deny it) Steve feels for Tony, had Steve just looked underneath the underneath instead of the bombastic self-defence Tony wears as a second skin.

They sit in silence after that, passing the blunt back and forth, and when it’s almost gone, Tony clears his throat and asks, “Can I do something?  To share the last of it, y’know?”  Steve tears his eyes away from the silent grounds, something in Tony’s tone making Steve hold his breath, and looks at Tony for a long moment before nodding.

Tony stands, makes his way over to Steve’s front, and then falls to his knees, right in between Steve’s legs.  Steve can feel the warmth of him and he shudders at the sensation as well as the sight of Tony, right in front of him, pupils large from the lack of light and the marijuana.  “Just once,” Tony murmurs almost absently, as if he’s trying to convince himself of the truth in those words, and then takes the last drag of the blunt before blindly snuffing it out in the ashtray and reaching for Steve.

The first touch of that rough hand is electrifying, and feeling Tony pull him close is almost unbearable.  It’s a slow pull, hands cupping Steve’s cheek and bringing them nose-to-nose, and Steve realises what Tony’s trying to do a split-second before it happens: masking the tentative question behind the flimsy excuse of sharing that last drag.

Tony pauses, his nose brushing the side of Steve’s, waiting to see if Steve’s okay with this, waiting to see if Steve will meet him halfway, and oh is Steve more than willing.  He lifts his own arms and then wraps his arms around Tony’s neck, pulling him the rest of the way and slotting his lips against Tony’s own.

They open their mouths in unison and then Tony’s blowing the smoke inside, slowly and intimately, and it’s singlehandedly the most intoxicating thing he’s ever experienced in his life. He inhales as Tony exhales, taking it into his lungs, and then he slowly deepens their connection into a proper kiss, holding his breath and he winds his tongue with Tony’s own.  Tony groans, his other hand gripping Steve’s thigh for leverage as he leans upwards, mouth and tongue moving so fluidly against his own that it nearly breaks Steve’s heart to know that he’ll never get to have this outside of this single stolen moment.

Steve exhales but he doesn’t break the kiss, the smoke practically non-existent, and he pushes closer, wanting so much to make this moment count.  Tony meets him, so much unrestrained passion in his kiss, lips smooth and tasting like smoke, and Steve wants, he wants so much, and he can feel in the shudders of Tony’s body that it’s a mutual longing.

When they finally break apart, both of them panting against each other’s lips, Tony whispers, “That’s what I thought.  Thank you.”

“I’m sorry we can’t have more,” Steve breathes, heart aching as he also acknowledges what could’ve been.

“Me too,” Tony says, voice cracking in the middle, and then pulls away with an obvious hesitance, getting to his feet.  He looks at Steve, takes in every line and angle of Steve’s body as if committing it to memory, and then smiles, something sad but honest, before he turns and walks away, disappearing back into the compound and once again untouchable.

Steve hurts.

#kinktober #kinktober 2018 #kinktober18 #tony stark #steve rogers #stony #rowan writes #shotgunning #marijuana use #recreational drug use #unrequited love #angst

[free-falling-grenade]

The Gazebo under a cherry tree

Chapter 4. Its here too ao3.

Chloe was startled back to the present as she desperately blinked back the tears, hiding it quickly with one of her signature bright smiles. Her soon to be husband wore a worried expression seemed to notice her zoned out state, "You okay?"

"Yea! Just had a tiny headrush. I should definitely not have drank a lot last night. I think it's finally taking effect. " She covered up enthusiastically, her excuse slightly valid enough or so she hoped.

Chicago's brows furrowed, not entirely believing her but decided not to push. He merely released a slight scoff and smiled adoringly at his fiance who kissed him on the cheek before skipping off to help out with more decorations. He merely shook his head letting out a sigh, his expression falling slightly as he stared at where Chloe went then switching his gaze where Beca and the other Bellas were laughing amongst themselves. The soldier's guts filled with worry but decided not to let his assumptions overtake his thoughts.

xxx

Once Beca returned to the mini bar with the Bellas, she was immediately bombarded with questions.

"B! Where did you go?" A slightly tipsy Stacie asked.

"Was with Chloe."

The Bellas suddenly going silent as they all give each other worried stares. The brunette noticed this and waved them off.

"Nothing crazy. Just catching up. You guys wanna hit the spa next?"

The ladies decided it was safe to just leave it alone for now. They all agreed to go to the spa as they followed Beca all fuelled with alcohol in their system.

Unexpectedly, her phone started ringing, Theo's name flashing on the screen. She excused herself from the Bellas who was already at the spa lounge waiting for their turns.

"Yes, Theo?"

"Hey Beca. I know you're on a small vacation right now but we got an emergency in the studio."

"What happened? Did you set it on fire or something ?"

Theo scoffed at the other end of the line, "No. Luckily. But Sarah almost did while she tried to heat her instant noodles."

Beca let out a chuckle. Sarah, a sophomore in college, their intern was a little bit of a clutz but she was creative and passionate with a strong ability to learn quickly, the reason why Beca agreed to take her in the first place.

"Seriously though, DJ Khaled and the other big bosses is holding an emergency meeting. Regarding what, I'm not so sure. They just need everyone to be present there or else apparently."

The producer let out a sigh, she knew there were consequences but she had luckily never missed a meeting to know what they were. "Its that important?"

"You know they barely hold meetings like this out of the blue. So I guess there's not much of a choice here."

With another sigh, the petite woman came to a decision. "Alright. Well, do you mind picking me up around tomorrow afternoon or something? I can't miss this, you know that."

Theo smiled sympathetically for the brunette, understanding the importance of the wedding. "Got it, boss. I'll do my best. I'll give you a call when the driver arrives tomorrow."

Beca was half glad and half torn. Not having to witness Chloe and Chicago actually getting pronounced as husband and wife was a blessing in disguise however, also the fact that this was her bestfriend, despite barely talking for 2 years, she cared deeply for her happiness and was hopelessly in love. It was tearing her apart but it would kill her if she made the dick move of leaving right now.

So the decision to get the next flight tomorrow is so she would be there a little during the wedding not to miss the entire thing and just make her presence still known. Surprisingly, Theo's lack of persistence to get back immediately made her wonder how much of an emergency it really was.

Beca luckily had a friend like Stacie who packed formal business clothes which she asked her why, the tall brunette merely winked. She lent her a black silk blazer to go with a matching pair of midnight black formal pants and Flo's black heels that she had lent the brunette as they had the same shoe size. The unfortunate part was that Beca only had a white casual v-neck t-shirt to act as an inside. She couldn't wear the outrageous orange bridesmaid dress. That would totally ruin her image as a producer once she flew back to LA wearing it.

Fortunately for her, all the Bellas understood how Beca felt about the wedding, especially Aubrey. So she made up a reason for there being too much up in the small altar so only certain girls would be up there with Chloe. Stacie, Jessica, Emily and Aubrey herself volunteering to be infront which Chloe agreed to after a slight confusion.

After their spa sessions, the girls had decided to all pass out early to get their beauty sleeps right before the wedding day. Which took Beca an agonizingly long time to fall asleep as she fidgeted the whole night, mentally giving herself a prep talk repeatedly till it lulled her to sleep : No tears. No pain. Just smile. Move on.

xxx

Day 3 of Wedding: Speak now or forever hold your piece.

As the wedding started, Beca was stood all the way in the back row which she guessed was where all Chloe's other friends and coworkers sat. The petite woman was trying to keep her distance to physically restrain herself, not trusting her own actions.

Waking herself up earlier was already physically too much. She didn't know if she was ready for the closure. She didn't know if she was ready to move on, not knowing anything beyond the thoughts of Chloe that haunted her 24/7. She didn't know if she wanted to.

As she stood there infront of the bathroom mirror, the other Bellas all ready in Cynthia Rose's and Flo's room, she took in her appearance. The dark circle around her eyes still visible through the foundation she applied to hide them, her smile trembled trying its best to carry the weight of the reality, her hair braided by none other than the self declared hairstylist of the Bellas - Cynthia Rose and her outfit not matching the other girls as she wore the business outfit ready to leave for the meeting as soon as possible. She let out a deep, long sigh.

Aubrey stood at the door, noticing the brunette staring at the void reflection of herself. The blonde gritted her teeth, cautiously knocking on the door to make her presence known.

"One final heartbreak, huh?" The hoarse and vulnerable voice almost knocking out Aubrey.

She formed a tight lipped smile, "One final heartbreak." The blonde repeated firmly

Beca turned to her friend, her eyes dangerously glassy as she offered a wide empty smile and walking out to join the Bellas.

She tried to ignore the sound of millions of pieces that fell from her now shattering heart, the bonds she had used to keep it together now falling apart as she saw Chloe approach in her beautifully tailored one shoulder, white laced satin wedding dress, accompanied by her father. Beca's breath completely caught in her throat as crystal blue skies met the midnight sea locking gazes briefly, but it was gone as fast as it started, failing to read each others expressions.

Beca internally scoffed at the traditional wedding instrumental playing in the background. She let out a small sigh as she watched Chicago's eyes sparkle at the sight of chloe. Honestly, whose wouldn't. Chloe Beale who was the epitome of all the wonderful things the world was lucky to have, all of her now within the soldier's reach. Beca swallowed back the venom rising from inside her.

As the preacher began the ceremony, the world around her suddenly gets muted. The pang in her chest seemed to grow larger, swelling from the pain of holding in the water works that kept persistently trying to push themselves out of her eyes. Her fist clenching and nails digging into her palms every time she watched the couple smile at each other, looking at their hands intertwined caused hers to burn like acid being poured agonizingly slow on delicate skin. As the anguish in her heart start bubbling over the surface, burning every part of her skin that Chloe Beale had once touched, boiling red, seeing black; if this was more painful than death then she prayed to the gods for them to take her now. Her heart shrivelled smaller and smaller.

The vibration in her pocket startled her back to reality forcing her clenched fist apart as she politely got up her seat, slightly bending down to not attract any attention to herself. Lucky enough, everyone was focused on the couple. She stood right by the entrance, as she finally answered the phone call.

"Mitchell." She responded with a quiet but firm tone.

"Beca. The driver is outside the resort up front. The private jet is waiting. I'm sorry I had to call at a time like this."

"No, it's fine." Beca silently replied. Her eyes closed for a minute as the echo of the minister's words rang in her ears,

"If anyone can show just cause why this couple cannot lawfully be joined together in matrimony, let them speak now or forever hold their peace"

She took a deep shaky breath, exhaling it out slowly. The world under her suddenly trembling, begging for her to do something but her feet suddenly felt like it was glued to the floor.

"Beca?"

"Coming, coming. See you there." She hung up without further words and shoved the phone in her pocket. She swallowed thickly exhaling one last breath as she made her way out towards the exit. She didn't dare to look back.

. . .

She texted Aubrey to let her know she had left for her emergency meeting. She had told the girls about it once Theo had called.

Beca sighed as she made herself comfortable on the plane seat. One of the good things about becoming famous was getting your own private jet. It wasn't hers per se, but it was designated for her when she needed it. She didn't need to worry about other people cramped up in a tight plane with a crying baby on board. She thanked the hired stewardess for the water before she left her alone. She gazed out the window, evaluating how things came up to this. If she just knew earlier, or back in Brooklyn, if she could've just sucked it up and told her before the USO tour, how her life would've been much better.

But of course, she wasn't Beca Mitchell if she didn't live some type of cursed life. It was a give or take life she had. Have your parents divorce but get a nice DJ set for your birthday to make up for shattering your entire view of family. Have to tolerate college but get to meet all the amazing girls she was glad to call her family now. Somehow have your dream that you'd been chasing for years come true but have your bestfriend, that you're completely, hopelessly, excruciatingly in love with be taken away by someone else and watch them live a happy life.

How ironically amazing her life was; Living the dream with a broken heart.

She let her sulking drain all her energy as she fell into a deep slumber.

#bechloe #pitch perfect #beca mitchell #chloe beale #tguact #aubrey beca brotp #bechloe fanfic #bechloe angst #bechloe multi fic

[theparaminds]

It’s not as though Natalie Green knew what this year held in store or what would exist at the end of the road. Though, at every step of the way, he kept going. Embodied in both his music and his story of perseverance, is a rare example of an artistic soul that found peace where few would ever dream to look. It took months of learning and continued questioning of himself and what he wanted to be. But in the end, it resulted in a man anew.

With a new project taking shape in studio sessions that contrast his earlier life, Natalie Green is finding a voice he previously was nervous to share, speaking louder than before. The ideas, memoirs and anxieties he hopes to express have become clear. With every note, he continually finds himself as much as he does connect to those who battle the same confusions.

Natalie Green now stands with a new asset he hadn’t held prior, the ability to embark on the path he wants, not the one life throws him upon. He can stand and become the artist he visualizes, the artist he knows is essential to reveal to the world. For the first time in a while, Natalie Green is in control, with a steering wheel in hand and a road of possibility on the horizon.

Our first question as always, how’s your day going and how are you?

Things have been hectic, but good. Good busy you know? There are different kinds of busy and this one has been all positive.

On your last EP last year, it sounded like you weren’t fully at peace, do you find that you are now after a year of personal introspection?

Yeah for sure, when I was writing the EP, I was in a really terrible place physically, emotionally and mentally. It was a passion project when it came out, I didn’t have to think about it. Whereas now, I’ve got a place, I’m not just in my car anymore, I emotionally feel a lot more centered, I have my head on straight. I’ve found friends and people that I love to surround myself with. Everything’s been a thousand times better.

When you’re looking within this shift you’ve undertaken, where do you think you’ve personally grown the most, whether artistically or as an individual?

I think I’ve gotten more empathetic towards people. All people. As well, I feel more self-aware. What I realized when living in my car was that I didn’t know myself. Living in a house again with roommates made me, in a new way, learn more about myself, and where I needed to spend a lot of time mentally. As far as musically, I feel more confident, I think that’s apparent in my vocals and instrumentation, they’re far more personal in that sense.

With the new year in season, being a time of reflecting upon the past year, do you have any memories that stick out to you as positive through the difficult and turbulent times?

There’s a lot. I don’t know if there’s one specific moment, but definitely moving into the apartment. I also got to play a private show in my friend’s backyard for all my close friends. That was a big moment for me. There’s a lot of moments where I had friends reassure me, and believe in me when I wasn’t doing so myself. One of my best friends from back home came to live here a little while ago, that was really special to have him back. The whole tour with Roy, of course, was inspiring, to see him do all that and becoming closer to everyone I went on tour with will forever be in my memories.

With that tour, and even more so working on Cat Heaven, happening while you were working on your own projects, did they influence the way you approached your new work?

There are certain things I learn from other people I can implement in my own music later. There will be something I’ll figure out while I’m working with someone, be it a sound or a new style, I can kinda pull out later. A lot of it is just talking to others and learning their inspirations and how that reflects in their music. Then turning and comparing that to my own influences and seeing how I do the same. It’s all just inspiration.

To touch on that idea of inspiration, you’ve mentioned in the past how you have a wide range on influences in your life in terms on music, but in the last year, which artists have really been influencing the work you’re putting out?

There’s been a lot of really great artists I just got into this past year-ish, but a big one is Michelle Zauner, who’s the singer for Japanese Breakfast. I’m hugely inspired by her, the fact she directs her own music videos and does all her own creative output, it’s really amazing. I’ve also loved the movies of Michel Gondry and the writing of Charlie Kaufman, anything they work on is amazing and so intoxicating.

With this new album you’re ramping up to release, has there been a difference in approach to how you wrote songs and lyrics? And how does that process look like?

I mean it’s been different for almost every song, I tried to do the album the same way I did the EP, and it wasn’t working right. Every song I wrote just felt lacklustre or the same. So to change it up, I had to change my methods, like the first song I wrote, I did two guitar parts first and then I sang, then produced over. That is very different to the EP which was songs first then lyrics. There are certain songs where before I recorded, I had a guitar riff and just wrote the song in a very traditional way, just chords and singing. Maybe loops would be first at times, and then they’d be built off of. Everything has been different.

It’s interesting because it sounds like you’ve really been adding more to your skill set as an artist, would you say that if you had a tool belt of music, that you’ve been adding towards it in the last while?

Yeah, definitely. I’ve been doing that my whole life honestly. I started in bands, not knowing how to produce or anything, but I could play guitar and from then I learned the bass just to add of that. Then I learned production, and that is forever useful. Now I’m working more to be an artist and learn what that entails and requires. Every time I learn something new I really take that and hold onto it until needed.

If you could create your ideal music creation space, where would it be and how would it look like?

That’s interesting, It would really just need to be a secluded place. A place I could disappear and a place I could be as loud as I want as late as I want. No interruptions, all the equipment I needed. Some food, drinks and a bathroom, that’s all I need.

Over the year you’ve posted some concerts you went to, like Paramore in the summer. Are there other shows you saw live that really had an impact upon you and maybe changed the way you approach live shows yourself?

Well, of course, the tour with Roy, he’s been super inspiring in general and watching the man work is amazing. He has a lot of fantastic ideas and he goes through with them. I saw Daisy as well, and they’re so good live. Solange was also amazing with her stage design and her choreography. I also saw Soccer Mommy pretty recently, and it wasn’t too extravagant but it was so well done and exciting to see as a fan of the music.

When you’re on stage, even something like the backyard show you mentioned earlier, what’s the emotion you’re trying to achieve and what is the mindset that you find yourself within at that moment?

When I played that private show, I realized all my songs were pretty mellow and hard to dance or move to. All except for Beachwood didn’t translate very well. So with this new project, I want them to translate really well live, to feel energetic, to feel lively. The songs are just fun. But I keep that emotion in and make sure that I don’t lose what made the earlier work so special and important.

What’s been the overall message you’re trying to pursue this new work and what is it you’re hoping to convey?

I kinda just want to tell my story. Or a story of mine. If people learn things from that, its great, but I’m just saying what happened in my experience. What I realized is that there’s a lot of shitty things that happened to me in my life, but the truth is that things could be a lot worse, so far they’ve been pretty good for the most part. While I had those tough days, I’m still here kicking it.

I apologize if it’s a repeated question, but with the topic of your story, what’s the meaning behind the stage name you’ve taken upon yourself?

It is and it isn’t part of my story in a way. A big part of that choice was that I wanted to separate myself from my old name and work. I wanted this to be super new. The name is taken from two names of people I am very inspired by. And it also, to me, sounds like the quintessential hot girl from a high school, the girl in the coming of age movie they all go after.

If you had a message to artists out there who may find themselves in the same space as you have previously found yourself within, those who may feel as unsure, what would be your lesson to pass on?

I think it doesn’t matter if you’re as confident or as talented as you want to be, as long as you recognize what sounds good to you, just put out the song. It doesn’t matter if you think your voice was bad, just keep progressing as an artist. If you wait for that progression you’ll never put stuff out, you’ll never be happy. With whatever you have right now, just start putting something, anything, out.

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All Photos by Guthrie King