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#everyone has their favourites but to go out in public and insult - not just the characters - but the actors playing them???

still-a-morosexual-help · 8 months

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honestly tho om lucifer is such a comfort character

you know mammon's my all time all around favourite no contest but like

lucifer just hits different

he's so tired and he's so overworked and he loves his family so much it makes me sick he's willing to kill and die for them at any chance he made the misfits of the celestial realm his family despite being the perfect example of an angel himself he thinks his brothers are adorable he just wants them to have one quiet day

he's such a bastard he's arrogant and prideful and he'll willingly meow like a little kitty cat because his boybestfriend is sad

he's got daddy issues he's terrified he's traumatised his greatest fear is his father he spent years fighting a pointless war and never questioned his father about whether they ever even tried to find a way to end the war without just mindlessly trying to kill people who really aren't that different from them for a reason no one knows he's willing to be given piggyback rides by another high profile man in a public area

he's a dog person he's weak to puppy dog eyes from everyone he cares about he's constantly done with Mephisto's shit he gets jealous because one of his friends complimented their mutual friend's cookies

he's willing to villainize himself in the eyes of his family to keep them safe he's sadistic his first response to being cornered and scared is to kill anyone who's making him feel that way his love language with his brothers is being a little shit to them he's somehow connected to/the starting point of all the issues/trauma his brothers have he has empty nest syndrome even though all his brothers live at home he hasn't realised the extent to which his actions and words have fucked up his brothers and is constantly surprised and devastated by it when he realises

he has a son he pretends is his brother whom he only ever canonically acknowledged as his son twice which led to huge blowout fights one of his younger brothers bullies him into going to the pub with them once a week his son runs a club with his youngest brother dedicated solely to making his life miserable

he's sadistic he genuinely enjoys seeing people suffer he's so polite he'll allow himself to be poisoned by food he knows is bad he bought dinner for a whole restaurant because it was the owner's birthday he wore a silly outfit and worked at a themed restaurant as a favour for a friend he gets visibly more aroused when he's ordered around he insults his brothers but gets upset whenever an outsider does the same

he loves his human so much and he's so annoyed at them he's so frustrated with them he's so angry at them and he's so worried about them so protective of them so incredibly proud of them he has tried to kill them many many times

he's a borderline alcoholic he's immortal he's greying he gets migraines he forgets to eat and he sleeps at his desk he does the mom thing and orders takeout for his children when he goes out to eat without them he likes dad jokes his greatest wish is to visit a factory he likes good socks he's a grumpy old man

he's over 10 million years old he's an eldritch horror he's the personification of the sin of pride he needs glasses to read his childhood friend? ex-boyfriend? kind-of-brother? old coworker? brother in arms? calls him luci

he's a naggy paranoid perfectionist he removed the entire bathroom because one of his brothers forgot to clean it he had to literally be kidnapped to send him on a vacation he ripped out multiple sets of his own wings he doesn't like being seen shirtless he lectured jason voorhees about him not killing efficiently enough

he's a respected and recognised drag queen he believes love is love he's canonically so beautiful but no one ever makes a move on him because the whole realm thinks he's in a committed long term relationship he refuses to believe his best friend is in love with him despite multiple people saying so

he's the type of person you want to please the type of person you want to make proud the type of person you want on your side because you know no matter what he'll always have your back you're safe that as long as he's there everything will be okay the type of person you want to be held by while everything is falling down around you

he's even queer

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jamiewintons · 8 months

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Sex with Sanji would include…

Requested by: Anonymous Warnings: Smut (18+ ONLY) Sanji Tag List: @elizabeth-hatake @mhsofe @nubigenouss (Fill out this form to join!)

●Sanji is pretty experienced, which leads to him being incredibly skilled and confident in bed (or wherever else the two of you decide to have your fun). He knows exactly how to make you feel good, and he’s very proud of that fact, so he can’t help but be a little smug when he gives you yet another mind-blowing orgasm.

●He talks a lot during both make-out sessions and sex. Like he’ll often whisper in your ear, his voice lower than usual with arousal, telling you how good you feel and how much he loves being with you like this. He’ll talk you both to and through your orgasm(s), usually throwing a few ‘good girl’s in there.

●Sanji loves to praise you all throughout sex, calling you all kinds of pet names and constantly telling you how wonderful and beautiful you are. He can’t ever bring himself to degrade you, because in his mind, it’s not only insulting but lying. You’re an absolute goddess in his eyes, so why would he ever tell you any different?

●He could spend hours upon hours just worshipping your body, covering you in kisses and caressing every inch of you. Literally every part of you is perfect to him, and he’ll especially focus on areas that he knows you’re insecure about, because he needs you to know that you’re gorgeous.

●When he’s inside of you, Sanji pretty much always has his hands firmly on your hips, though he’ll sometimes have one free to trail down your back or to gently stimulate your breasts.

●Speaking of Sanji’s hands, one of he easiest ways to get him turned on (apart from like… existing) is to put his fingers in your mouth. Especially when you look up at him with wide, pleading eyes while you do it. Like the man will be hard in an instant.

●Expect Sanji to give you a lot of neck kisses, because he loves them. He also likes to give you a hickey or two so everyone knows that you’re his, and when he sees any of the marks he left on you when you’re in public, it drives him absolutely insane.

●He’s both excellent at and greatly enjoys eating you out. Like he could do it all day every day, whether he’s on his knees in front of you, between your legs in bed, or has you sitting on his face. He definitely moans while he’s doing it, and has probably cum at least once just from hearing the way you beg and moan for him while he’s going down on you.

●When it comes to sex positions, Sanji is happy to do whatever brings you the most pleasure, but if it came to picking his own favourite it would have to be when you ride him. There’s just so many wonderful things about it - it allows you to control the speed and intensity so you can prove how much you want him, the way your breasts move while you bounce on his cock, the perfect view it gives of your face when it’s contorted in pleasure…

●Sanji also likes to take you from behind, but only when you’re sat up with your back pressed against his chest with his strong arms wrapped firmly around you. He’ll have his lips pressed up against your ear, whispering dirty things to you and occasionally gently nibbling on your earlobe.

●Of course, with Sanji being the amazing chef he is, you can’t go wrong with a little bit of foodplay. He loves to cover areas of your body with whipped cream before slowly and sensually licking it off. You do the same to him sometimes, though things often escalate quicker during those times because you don’t have the same amount of self-control that he does.

●There’s definitely been times while you’re in the kitchen together while Sanji’s testing out a new dessert recipe, and he offers you a taste. You reject the spoon and end up licking batter off his fingers, which leads to him getting turned on… and then you have sex on the kitchen counter.

●Sanji absolutely loves it when you get all desperate and beg for him. Sometimes he’ll tell you to beg for him if you want him to continue, but nothing turns him on more than when you start begging for him without any prompting.

●He’s soooo sweet after sex, like he’ll cuddle you and pepper kisses all over your face and neck while he tells you how wonderful you were. He’ll stay with you as long as you want, and will be happy to run you a bath if you want one.

#sanji x reader #opla sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji x reader #black leg sanji x reader #opla x reader #one piece x reader #opla imagine #opla headcanons #mari's stuff #nsft text #x reader smut #x reader headcanon #x reader headcanons

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prosciuttulipa · 13 days

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Hello my dear, I want to try JJBA (part 3) match

• I am a girl and prefer men

• I am a very kind, caring and compassionate person but very insecure about myself and my abilities. I can have a temper, but I am pretty good at controlling myself

Though with strangers I am quiet and closed, but with people close to me I can relax and be as active, joking and goofy as I want to be. But if the situation calls for it I can get surprisingly tough

• About my likes and dislikes. I am obsolutely in love with animals (they are incredibly cute(≧▽≦)) and nature (open water, rain, wind make me smile)

But I really dislike cruel and dishonest people

About hobbies, my favourite music, anime/manga and cooking my favourite food is my life

• My love languages are definitely physical affection, words of affirmation and acts of service. I am a very affectionate person and really want my loved ones to be comfortable and happy

I accept any signs of love. Seriously, I cherish any sign of affection. But touch is very important to me

• The green flags in a relationship are a certain amount of care, attention to my and his feelings (I want to know that the relationship is going in the right direction and my partner likes everything as much as I do) and a good sense of humour (I really-really like jokes, but my sense of humour may not be understood by everyone(⁠｡⁠ŏ⁠﹏⁠ŏ⁠))

To me deal breaker is cruelty to me or any other people/animals/children(I know they can be annoying but they are just kids), insults and disrespect to my family or my hobbies. These are the two most important things in my life and no one has the right to speak bad of them

• I am a short girl 159 centimetres / 5.21 feet, I have a large build with broad shoulders. I am not thin, but I only have a few extra pounds. I also have dark green eyes, thin pink lips, and shoulder length brown wavy hair

I'm afraid I wrote too much, sorry if something is unclear english is not my native language. Anyway thanks, I'll look forward to it(⁠◍⁠•⁠ᴗ⁠•⁠◍⁠)⁠❤

P.S Your posts are incredible, keep it up!

Congratulations! You have been matched with...

You and Jotaro are two peas in a pod: closed off around strangers but warmer to their loved ones, wielding a bit of a temper, and a preference for actions to convey love. On the outside, people might mistake you two as not being particularly caring of each other, but that's far from the truth.

Jotaro Kujo

The two of you would have a slow start to your relationship, making small talk over your favourite manga and anime. But as time goes on, the masks you both wear would drop, revealing two individuals who felt more comfortable revealing their odd senses of humor and tender hearts. He's taken aback by how much you love nature, and finds himself the chattiest he's ever been in his life, trading animal facts back and forth with you. You're the one who encourages him to get into marine biology, a dream that he had always kept to himself because he was afraid of how it would be received. When he comes over to visit you for the first time and finds that you've cooked for him, he has to duck under his hat to hide his touched expression.

Even before you get into a proper relationship with him, Jotaro shows his interest in you by allowing you into his personal bubble, not protesting when you cling to him or offer him hugs. When you two become official, he becomes a lot more forward with touching you. In public, he'll always have an arm loosely wrapped around you, wanting you safe and close; in private, he's a cuddle bug, often dragging you into his lap to press his face into your neck. Although he's not much for speaking, he's big on being honest, bluntly asking you if the relationship is going well, and answering your questions in turn.

Dates with him would often involve going out into spots of nature, enjoying the sights in comfortable silence. If the weather is bad, you're both happy to chill and watch anime together. Overall, Jotaro finds a safe haven with you, someone who mellows him out and reminds him of the good in the world.

The Matchmaker's Gift:

A simple melody with sincere lyrics, Jotaro finds you as a source of inspiration to better himself and find the good in the world.

You send Jotaro this as a reference to his love for everything marine. Rolling his eyes fondly, he saves it to his playlist.

Intense and slightly sad, Jotaro hopes this song conveys how he'll be with you till the end of the line.

#—playing matchmaker!#—prosciuttulipa events.#jjba #jjba part 3 #jjba matchup #jjba matchups

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doomh3ad · 2 years

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I see you’re taking requests about pet play and what other slasher screams “pet owner?” None other than Asa Emory himself

YOUR MIND I WAS GONNA DO ONE W HIM THIS IS SO UNHINGED IM SORRY I KINDA WENT MAD

asa emory / the collector + pet play (nsfw under cut)

-you want a man that goes HARD with his kinks? here you go. he takes the roles very seriously and considers it to be a grave insult should anyone comment on why you're literally wearing a collar - a casual one, it could be mistaken for a choker - in public.

-asa adores how you look as his pet, and how far you want to take the kink is entirely up to you, but you're definitely getting referred to as "pet" or "my pet" in front of as many people as possible. everyone just assumes asa is old fashioned, but the sly smile he gives you tells you exactly what's on his mind.

-expect him to treat collaring you as a very serious aspect of your lives. asa is a planner by nature but he goes into overdrive, handpicking the material of the collar, the colour, the tag, and the matching leash, unless you have any specific input for what you'd like. asa sees collaring as something akin to marriage, it's a symbol of love and trust and shared desires.

-he'd quite like to see you in a thick leather collar with a chain, if you let him run wild - and a choke collar, because naughty pets who don't obey their master don't get treated nicely. you'll see the nitrile gloves slipping under your collar to pull you up to his height - but that doesn't mean you can look him in the eye, he hasn't given you permission for that yet.

-teasing bastard. whistles for you in a similar tone he uses for his actual dogs. don't worry, you're his favourite pet, though <3 tells you to "heel, pet" or do little tricks for your master - can his pretty puppy roll over like a good bitch? does his perfect kitten want to play?

-he does expect you to refer to him by title when you're playing. whatever it is you've agreed to call him, sir or master or even dr. emory, if you don't call him by that name, you'll soon be taking a walk, his hands wrapped around your leash as he forces you to keep up, until you say you'll be obedient with his proper title.

-loves petting you even in simple domestic moments. your head resting on his thigh, and he strokes a hand through your hair, murmuring about how you're always so good for him, so obedient, how he loves his perfect pet and, if he thinks you're actually asleep, how he hopes he's being a good owner.

-asa is secretly rather worried that he's too harsh, or too lenient, or too pushy, and you'll seek out someone else to satisfy you. that's why he's forever asking if there's anything more you'd like to get out of this kink, if this session was alright.

-he's a very possessive lover normally, but with the amount of trust you give him to engage in this? no one will ever touch his pet if he has a say in it. a hand resting on your collar, if you're wearing one, or on your neck in lieu of it. you belong to him, and only him, and if he has to brand his initials in every piece of clothing you wear to show people that he will.

-very into any costumes or anything you wear - cat or dog ears, a little bell on your collar, etc. you'll probably have multiple collars for different situations, with slightly different tags - "property of asa emory", "asa's pet" etc.

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womanofwords · 4 days

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The Poisoned Prodigy (Chapter 6)

Olympus Medical Centre had a lot going on. When I arrived there, I got into a long line of people waiting to be seen by the front desk. "You're a little young to be here," a middle-aged woman said.

"I'm visiting my friend," I said. "Am I not in the right queue?"

"No," she said, suddenly looking at the floor. "You're in the right place."

"Good." I looked at the line of people that were in front of me. "Wonderful."

:-)

Patton's room was full of flowers and cards. Not like he could read them, anyway. He was still on life support, thanks to Ernest.

Possibly Ernest.

This was proving to be more difficult to solve than I thought. I figured that when Patton named him just before he passed out, he'd basically solved his own murder. Knowing what I know now about the rivalry between him and Patton, it made sense. Scores of people would be able to talk about times when Ernest had insulted Patton in public; even the headmaster had seen it. And his own parents.

After further thought, maybe Patton wasn't the intended target. Perhaps the true poisoner was someone that hated Ernest so much that they would do anything to get rid of him, including poisoning Patton to frame him for it. Sally said herself that if she had to write down everyone that actually liked Ernest could fit onto a sticky note that was cut in half.

"Patton, everyone misses you so much," I said. I read somewhere that coma patients could still hear what was going on around them, so I did my best to talk without crying. "I hope that we can go skateboarding together once you're awake again. Also, Ernest DuBois got arrested for poisoning you. His mugshot's everywhere now."

The only response I got was the beeping of medical machines. Patton's eyes were closed, but his chest was still rising and falling. That was good. He'd live to see his real poisoner get arrested.

And as his best friend, I had to find out who that was.

:-)

Afterwards, I messaged Sally again regarding Ernest's reputation.

Did Ernest just hate Patton or did he do that stuff to other people?

There were other times, too. Rumour has it the reason he hadn't been suspended before that is because his parents pay for a lot of stuff the school has and they can't afford to lose that funding.

If Ernest is such a terrible student, how is he always being nominated for the scientific awards?

I have no idea.

"Vincent, how was Patton in the hospital? Did he wake up yet?" Umma asked me.

"No, Umma. He's still in a coma," I said.

"I hope Patton doesn't die," James said. "He's the only cool thing about Vincent."

"What?" I spluttered.

"James, be nice to your brother," Appa said.

"I'm just saying. I mean, we all see it. Patton's incredible and Vincent's the most average teenage boy in the world," James said.

Ouch. Painfully true, but ouch.

"James! Apologise to your brother!" Umma yelled.

"His best friend is dying and you're insulting him!" Appa said. "Damn rude. Your brother is hurting."

"Fine. Sorry, Vincent," James said, as insincere as ever.

"Sure, James," I said, going up to our room. I took my helmet off from where I kept it and held it. It was weird, but it was what Patton gave me for my birthday.

"Green suits you, Vincent!" he said, giggling as he put it onto my head.

I never had a favourite colour before Patton arrived into my life. I always thought that favourite colours were stupid.

But now it was green.

If you want to read the other chapters, see Masterlist.

P.S. Hi @emilynotfound! Heard you'd be following this series along. How are you finding things?

#creative writing #my writing #writing inspiration #writers on tumblr #writers #writing #writeblr #writerscommunity #the poisoned prodigy #murder mystery

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georgia-stanway · 1 year

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Could you please explain what the Real Madrid / Barca situation is? I see everyone commenting on it but not saying what happened.

OK I'm really not an expert so anybody please correct me on anything but basically laporta (Barcelona president) accused Madrid of being the regime's club, ie the fascist Francoist regime. This is a point of huge debate and while Franco did say madrid was his favourite club there isn't really any [conclusive] evidence that they particulaly benefited from Franco [edit: this is a little too conclusive a summing up for what is an incredibly convuluted and debated topic of which there isn't an easy conclusive answer. This tifo video goes into a bit more detail.] and like everyone else they experienced their fair share of suffering. Laporta was very wrong to say this. It uses an awful period of history to try and get one up on madrid and is very disrespectful to the victims of Franco.

However instead of being the bigger club, Madrid decided to go one step further in the irresponsible and disrespectful use of history and make a video saying that it was Barcelona that benefited from Franco. It raises things like Franco laying the first stone of camp nou and receiving medals from barca but completely removes them from any and all historical context. This was a dictatorship. You worked within the regime or you were destroyed. This is particularly the case because of barca's association with Catalan nationalism and just catalan culture in general, which was very much actively surpressed by Franco. The video ends with a quote from Santiago bernabeu basically saying fuck anyone who says that real Madrid is regime's club but it also conveniently ignores the fact that bernabeu fought for Franco during the civil war.

I don't know enough about the topic to be able to properly discuss the ins and outs of both clubs during this period. But I am a history student and I am a little bit able to talk about this from a public history perspective and basically it's bad. It's really bad. It presents a narrative by removing the context that people will take at face value. It is incredibly damaging to any attempt to help either club and Spain itself acknowledge and come to terms with the Franco era, something that it is very important to do both to honour the victims of the regime and because of the rise in fascism across Europe. It also has implications in discussions of catalan culture and independence. Many many catalans will tell you how they have been insulted and told not to speak their language by Spaniards. An active real Madrid player has literally said to 'bomb catalan and basques' for booing the Spanish national anthem. It is very disrespectful and actively contributes to anti-catalanism to insinuate that the Francoist suppression of catalan wasn't that bad. And in general it is just incredibly disrespectful to the victims of the regime.

To be clear both clubs are behaving very badly hear in using franco to try and one up each other, but madrid just made everything 10x worse by releasing a widely accessible propaganda video

#Again please please correct me on anything #I don't know very much on Spanish history or regional politics #I do see a lot of anti Welsh shit that's very similar to what I see people saying about catalan all the time #and I know that those people will jump on anything to insinuate that Welsh wasn't surpressed #Which sure Jan my grandmother didn't speak Welsh because her parents didn't feel like teaching it to her #But obviously it's not directly comparable #Barcelona #Real madrid

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fatgumsurpremacy-remastered · 4 months

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im trying to imagine if batman the animated series characters had social media- but specifically pertaining to the question: who would post thirst traps on insta or get caught being horny on main or smthn like that. i could sincerely see bruce wayne having a patrick bateman-like social media presence, but i feel like two face would too? for some reason? i feel like he would love the attention.

Oh Bruce and Harvey definitely have similar posts but Harv has those moments where he’s like - “kicking your grandma down the stairs, whatchu doin?” Posts where he then posts a picture of a box of raisins spilled on the floor. Random shit like that.

I feel like joker would post horny shit about Batman that everyone thinks is a gimmick until he says something majorly eyebrow raising and he has to pull out the, “you thought it was a joke???” He also posts those bad dad jokes and one really poor taste joke that no one actually thinks is funny.

Jervis would have a blog that everyone thinks is a misogynist page until they realize it’s just a kink side page and his main is an account of theatre posts and animals, reposts of like- baking channels and tea pages.

Harley, and Ivy have a couples page and their own page where they post about common signs of health, mental health issues, plant maintenance and where they’re going to see their favourite bands. But Ivy does chaotic story times with a straight face.

Clay face doesn’t have much of a social media prescience but when he does he says weird stuff or posts about the good old days of cinema, and pushes out like- three guys he thinks were stupid hot when they worked in silent films. Constantly has to post about allegations that he’s dating his manager and say they’re not true when they are

Scarface probably has a Facebook page where he posts very obvious mob activity, but people think it’s a joke until they find he’s been arrested.

I struggle with Mr. Freeze, but I imagine he makes really bittersweet posts about the time with Nora, followed by a bunch of reposts of motivational advice and baby care stuff. Then the occasional science video.

Crane makes very controversial science opinions and lives to troll several safety boards. He’s been blocked by half of them and has been warned against on several of their pages. Those that friend him are mailed a crow feather so he knows where they live so he has very few mutuals. Has a tumble account dedicated to pseudoscience and the frequent Elvira rant. Really sweet and offers actual advice to people who reach out in private to ask for help with their psychology work or diagnosis.

I know this is supposed to be a thirst trap thing but I feel like it’s devolved so I’ll just put in these next two

Penguin posts pictures of him and his wife on excellent dates, and is generally perveived well until someone (read: Edward) decides to insult one or call out his blatant abuse of power where he’s then met with several threads of how he’s so awful for abusing an old man… followed by an accidental admission to crime.

Edward mostly fact checks posts, and videos, offers help on game production and offers critique and beta testing. He runs at least two side blogs, one for how to protect your financial assets from big businesses (aided by Harvey) and one on the riddle of the day. When people get mad they harp on him and the then puts their approximate location in their inbox. He’s gone on one rant, ONCE in front of people about how Batman is stupid and got grilled but later was defended and brought back into popular public opinion. People frequently thirst over pictures of him when he was involved in projects or when he was in community theatre but he never indulges them, because he likes to keep them waiting. He’s made a couple of suggestive remarks his very small set of fangirls squeak over but only to stroke his own ego. Very short very blurred images of himself because he doesn’t know how to angle the camera and is almost always walking somewhere in his house to get a snack before walking around and talking with his hands.

His tumblr has multiple image boards of horror movies like reanimator or other science themes even though hes an engineering major. Which he reminds people of when they ask him about movie logic.

@virginstoner666

#Batman stuff!

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jentlemahae · 10 months

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the ending of the idol makes no damn sense. we don't find out any of jocelyn's motivations and instead of her regaining her own agency after everything she's been through we're supposed to believe she let tedros abuse her bc it was part of her plan all along??? and she made up the entire abuse by her mom or at least being beat up with a brush even though she was so emotional while talking about + xander & leia knew about this abuse as well so we're they just acting along?? at one point xander (troye sivan's character) is super brainwashed by tedros and frames jocelyn's ex as a r*pist following tedros' orders and he isn't on good terms with jocelyn he basically insults her saying she's worse than her mom and that she controls everyone around her (alluding to her lying the whole time i guess but it still makes no sense) but then everything is fine again all of a sudden after he sings a song like i'm not making this up this show is absolutely STUPID. it's like the first 3 episodes were basically p*rn and by the 4th episode sam remembered oh we actually need to tell a story here and just threw in this nonsensical twist so we basically saw lrd suffer and being humiliated for nothing bc turns out she's the evil mastermind and we're supposed to feel sorry for tedros??? GIRL BYE!!! the rivalry with jennie's character could've been the main focus and would've been a more intriguing story but they really just used jennie as a marketing ploy bc her character isn't properly explored or utilized AT ALL.

this gq article explained the horrible ending very well: "A better show might’ve teased out more of this complex villainy rather than dropping it right at the end, but the resultant whiplash leaves you scratching your rattail. You’re telling us that we’ve just watched Jocelyn nakedly sob her way through a litany of humiliations — enduring the abuse of a sad sack cringe merchant not only whose favourite pastime is getting his rocks off on Valentino but, much more pertinently, looks like his armpits could double as chemical weapons — because that was her master plan the entire time? That’s what was going to rejuvenate her career? Has she ever thought about taking a nice walk? And sorry, we’re meant to have sympathy for Tedros “the queasiest fuckboy of all time” Tedros? Pull the other one" (https://www.gq-magazine.co.uk/article/the-idol-season-1-finale-jocelyn)

sam lev and the weeknd are never seeing heaven - not only is that gross and misogynistic is SO many ways, but it’s also such lazy and awful writing im actually in disbelief that they managed to get it approved by such a big network. im sure hbo is embarrassed as hell to have platformed a show like that and to have invested money in a show that has flopped both commercially and critically in such a public way lol

and that quote is GOLD, i think it sums it up perfectly 🙃😐

#anonymous #sophie ask

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lucyhorner1 · 1 year

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Can we Guess if You’ve Discovered The One

Honesty, belief and integrity usually are not the virtues which have gone hand-in-hand with on-line dating for a very long time. In case you are searching for a mail order bride from a sure nation, then you definately probably know about all the peculiarities and cultural options of your potential bride. נערות ליווי בתל אביב You then fill out the qualities that you're searching for in a mate with the intention to slim the search. He simply says they're jerks after they drink and he overestimated them. ” she says. “I was trying to catch myself in a doom scroll of taking a look at folks and simply feeling discouraged.” Unfortunately, that doomscroll occurred far too often, more so than Guiser’s optimistic experiences on the apps. If she says something to the impact of, "They sound so funny/sensible/interesting, I'd like to meet them," then you may know it is time to take the next step. It's like rolling your eyes at their conduct (with out tipping your hand to your mates). Taking some time to ruminate about what she said will supply clues about whether or not it is time to convey her around your pals. Whether home is Boston, Seattle, Houston or wherever in between, at EliteSingles we offer regional dating guides to help you meet local singles who you’re compatible with.

During the large introductions, don't forget to offer a little public display of affection (PDA.) A PDA shouldn't go overboard (we're talking holding palms, not tongue-hockey), particularly in entrance of your buddies. And, in case you suspect your favourite man's evening hangout is just a little too lowbrow on your lady, suggest a compromise: Invite everyone to fulfill at a casual restaurant. Benny is upset, as it is Steff's occasion and Blane shouldn't be allowed to ask "just anybody." She claims Andie will spoil her night time - she curses and insults Blane for bringing Andie into the group. According to a later tradition, the Book of Documents was compiled by Confucius (551-479 BC) as a selection from a a lot larger group of documents, with a number of the remainder being included in the Yizhoushu. Soon after your buddies develop into acquainted with your girlfriend, you'll need to fly solo and do something with your group of guy buddies.

Let's minimize to the chase: How much time do you have to wait earlier than introducing your girlfriend to your buddies? You'll wish to bring your girlfriend to the place the place you'd normally hold with your buds, like a neighborhood sports activities bar. David Archuleta, like most celebrities, prefers to maintain his personal and romantic lives personal, so check again often as we are going to proceed to replace this page with new dating news and rumors. We'll continue to replace this web page with new dating news and rumors as IU, like most celebrities, tries to maintain her private and love life private. There's at all times the danger your mates will not like your girlfriend. Although you do not need to be clingy, it is a present of solidarity when your friends see you and your girlfriend present a united entrance. We're cool, however we never see each other anymore. Or, they could see her unfavourable actions and intentions slightly more clearly than you do.

Plus, if your mates get slightly boisterous with either their language or matter of dialog, you can give her hand or knee somewhat squeeze. It's sufficient to make you sequester your gal until your life collectively has progressed somewhat. Suppose you're excited about long-term relationships and finding a life accomplice. He sees it as him and her in opposition to the world, as they are the poor and odd youngsters, and he hopes that she's going to see they have the whole lot in widespread and so they're a match made in heaven. When Steff and Benny see Andie at Steff's celebration, Benny insults each Andie and Blane. Blane takes Andie to a social gathering with the rich kids, who're stunned and repulsed that she is there. Lizard Lick Towing co-manager and wife of Ron Shirley, who stars within the TruTV reality series that bears the company’s name. He remains to be reeling from his spouse abandoning the household.

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rafesmuse · 2 years

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Harry Potter as your boyfriend

pairing: Harry Potter x reader (gender neutral)

warning(s): none

masterlist // taglist

early stages

so you’ve been friends with Hermione for a long time

you’ve known each other even before going to Hogwarts

so when the both of you came to Hogwarts, you’ve started to get to know Ron and Harry

you became a friend group of 4 and hung out every day

you slowly started to develop feelings for Harry but you didn't want it to get in the way of the friend group

so you decided to not act on them

however

Hermione saw straight through you

she told Ron and he didn't notice a thing lmao so clueless

Hermione told Ron to check with Harry, if he has any feelings for you

he kinda? confessed his feelings towards you

well, basically he just said you look pretty and smell nice wtf harry

which was enough for Ron to tell Hermione he is deeply in love with you

sooo that's when Ron and Hermione started to play cupid

they were good at it though

eventually, Ron got Harry to ask you on a date

he was so nervous but eventually gathered his courage

with a bit of stuttering, he asked you out it was so adorable pls

and instead of the relationship getting in between the friend group, it actually made everyone closer (:

the relationship

harry is actually so goofy

he makes a lot of jokes when you two are together

is such a fun person to be with

he is a really good listener

he loves to give you his sweaters

don’t try to give this man hints because he is so clueless

you have to be 100% clear with him, whatever it is, he will not get hints so frustrating but so cute

listen, if anyone disrespects you, it’s over for them

he will get so angry at anyone who insults you

also, he doesn’t get jealous often, but when he gets jealous…

he becomes so quiet in public but will show you you’re his when you two are alone iykyk

okay moving on, you will always get him out of trouble

you always look out for him and he loves you for that

he trusts you so much

stargazing while having deep conversations with snacks are his favourite kind of dates

affection

he's not that comfortable with showing affection in public

he doesn't mind it when you initiate it though

however, in private he is so affectionate with you

he loves hugs

begs you for more hugs

you won't say no though because you just can’t resist him

kisses on your cheek

cuddling, lots of cuddling

he likes to be the little spoon

plays with your hand when he gets overwhelmed or anxious

arguments

he can be so stubborn

his stubbornness occasionally shows in arguments

it’s difficult for him to admit he’s wrong

sometimes this can get in between you guys

when it comes to that point, he makes sure both of you are alright though

he doesn’t want anything to get in between you

he will calm down at that moment and take a moment for you to calm down as well

he will make you a cup of tea

after that, he will hold you in his arms while you two talk about the problem you are dealing with calmly

during arguments where you end up crying, he will freeze and feel so guilty

he will dry your tears with tissues while apologizing constantly

thank you for reading!

join the taglist

tags: @okchijt

#❥ ari’s works #harry potter imagine #harry potter fanfic #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter headcanon #hp #hp imagine #hp headcanon #harry james potter #hogwarts #harry potter x reader #harry potter x gender neutral reader #harry potter x you #harry potter x y/n #harry potter hc #hp fluff #harry potter fluff

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beels-burger-babe · 3 years

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A Pain You'll Soon Regret - Pt. 2

Poly! MC Summary: MC and the demon lords get in a fight resulting in MC leaving. They planned on going to Purgatory Hall until things cool off, but they never quite make it there. Ft. Poly!MC

TW: Heavy Angst, Violence, I don't know what to tag this, but there is a pretty nasty verbal fight, Gore/Injury Vomit Part 1: HERE, Part 3: HERE, Part 4: HERE

Meanwhile at the House of Lamentation

Your leaving hadn't made the situation at the House any better. Asmodeus threw his hands up in the air and glared at the rest. "Great! Just wonderful! Now they've run off. Happy now?" venom filled his words, but he could feel his heart race in fear that he had just lost the one person who loved him for more than his looks. Satan scoffed, though he glanced at the door through the corner of his eyes. "Don't act like you're better than us. I didn't see you standing up for them." Levi growled and went straight to his room as Satan and Asmodeus began to argue. Beel took a step towards to door you had just marched out of and glance between it and his brothers. "Should we go after them? It's dark and they're drunk."

Lucifer lifted his chin as he crossed his arms over his chest. "Why should we? It's like they said, they don't want to depend on us anymore, fine. Let them see for themself how far they get without our protection," with those words, Lucifer turned on his heel and stormed to his office.

Beel sighed and looked at Belphie, "What do you think? We can go get them together?" Belphie stared at the door for a minute, a guilty look in his eyes, before he shook his head. "Give them space, Beel. They're probably heading for Purgatory Hall. Simeon and the others can take care of them for tonight. Right now we all just need to calm down before facing each other again," he patted his twin's shoulder before heading to their room; regret swirling in his stomach as he thought of how he betrayed you once more.

Mammon stood frozen staring at the door like he still hadn't made up his mind on what he wanted to do. His instincts screamed at him to get you back in his arms and keep you there. You were his human, reckless or not, and he had a duty to protect you both as your assigned protector and as your boyfriend. But for some reason, he couldn't seem to move his feet. His mind replayed the discussion in his head over and over again. He had once told MC that if they couldn't be saved by him, to make sure that they died. That he was the only one allowed to protect them. Tonight, as everyone was fighting, MC needed him to protect them, but instead, he pushed them towards the wolves. He let his greed get the best of him. "Fuck," Mammon cursed to himself as he shook himself out of his thoughts. He glanced over to see Beel restraining Satan from pouncing onto a sneering Asmodeus. He sighed and shook his head. They hadn't fought like this in a long time. You had always been there to put them into their place. Now look at them. Mammon groaned and ran a hand over his face. "Will you guys cut it out? MC is gone, okay? Ain't nothin' we can do about it now," to his surprise, his younger brothers actually stopped and seemed to be listening to him. Mammon huffed and began walking towards the stairs. "It's like Belphie said. We ain't in no place to make things better right now. Fightin' like this is what got us in this position, so quit it. Get some sleep. We'll figure it all in the mornin'." Beel, Satan and Asmodeus blinked at their older brother as he disappeared upstairs. Seeing Mammon mature and take control of the situation like that, was strange, but not unfamiliar. Asmodeus massaged his temples with one hand and fixed his hair with the other. "Ugh, all this fighting is going to be horrid for my skin," he glanced at the door one more time with a defeated look before heading towards his room. Satan clenched and unclenched his hands a couple of times, taking a few deep breaths, before silently nodding at Beel and walking away. All alone, Beel stepped towards the door. He opened it and looked out at the dark vast of the Devildom before him. With a heavy, guilty heart, he closed the door and pressed his forehead against it. He used one hand to lock the door for the evening, while the other pulled out his D.D.D. The others didn't want him going after you, but a message couldn't hurt, right? He opened your contact and wrote out his text, "Hey MC. I'm sorry for how things happened tonight. Things got out of hand, and I'm sorry for not doing anything to stop that. I know you and the others are upset right now, but I was hoping that tomorrow, once we're all calm, you could come back home and we could talk about it?" Beel sat by the door for half an hour waiting for a response, but none ever came. He frowned and glanced up at the locked door handle before shaking his head. "Maybe they left it on silent for a bit," he mumbled to himself before picking up his phone once more. "Text me when you get to Purgatory Hall. You don't need to say anything else. I just want to know you're safe." With that, Beel headed towards the gym. He wasn't tired. He wasn't hungry. He just wanted you home, but he couldn't have that. So in the meantime, he'd stay awake until he at least knew you were safe.

Only the morning came and went, and there was no word from you. The brothers were starting to get concerned. No matter what was said last night, they still loved you. You all needed to talk, yes, and things needed to be worked out, but that didn't change how they felt for you. They would never want to see you hurt. Lucifer had reached out to Simeon, while Asmodeus contacted Solomon and Beel texted Luke. Only Beel received a response. "Never contact me again. If you come anywhere near Purgatory Hall, I will not hesitate to smite you in an instant, you foul fiend?" Satan read out loud as he passed the phone back to a very confused and worried Beel. "What in the world did you do to him?" "Nothing. At least, I don't think," he thought about for a second. "I've stolen his baked goods on occasion, but besides complaining about as I did it, he never seemed to hold a grudge." Lucifer frowned deeply. "This is clearly about MC. Luke has taken to them as though they're his older sibling."

Levi scowled and pressed a few buttons on his game. "Sure they aren't dating him too?" he yelped as Asmodeus smacked him on the back of the head. "Stop it," Asmodeus growled. "I know you're the Avatar of Envy, Levi, but MC was open and honest with us. They told us that they loved us all and that they wanted a relationship with all of us. We all listened to what they offered and agreed. You agreed to this!"

Levi huffed and put down his game. "Because it was better than not having them at all!" he sighed and put an arm over his face. "I know that they love me, and them being with a-all of us doesn't change that, but it's so hard sometimes. I-I-I just-" "Want 'em to yourself?" Mammon provided. Levi blushed and nodded in response. Mammon shrugged and sat down beside him. "We all understand that Levi. This is somethin' new for all of us. When I see MC bein' sweet with you guys I get this urge to just rip 'em off ya and hold 'em tight in my arms where ya guys can never touch 'em again," he sighed and put a hand on Levi's shoulder, "but then I see MC smile at me the same way they smile at Beel or you or Lucifer. I know that when I'm holdin' them, they're thinkin' of me and they're there with me because they treasure our time together. It's hard sometimes, and it hurts to admit, but you guys make MC happy, and I can't take that away from them." He nudged his younger brother gently, "Neither can you." Everyone sat quietly as they thought of Mammon's words. "They always bring me snacks after my workouts," Beel said with a small smile. "They always seem to know when I'm hungry and would just whip out snacks out of nowhere." Satan leaned onto his knees from where he sat on his chair. "They ordered me their favourite books from the human world on Akuzon. They wanted to do a trade. I'd read their favourites and they'd read mine. That way we could learn a bit about each other just by reading something that the other loved and would understand one another a little better." Belphie tiredly rubbed his eyes and leaned against Beel. "They wake me up after all class and before any meals," he chuckled softly at the memory. "No matter how much I snarled or insulted them, they'd just put their hands on their hips and patiently wait for me to wake up so that I wouldn't miss any of my classes or any meals."

Asmodeus giggled and smiled brightly. "That alone proves how much of an angel they are. Your demon side really shows when you're woken up." The others laughed as Belphegor stuck his tongue out at Asmo. "They would always give me their opinion on my outfits. I know it seems impossible, but even I get torn between which outfit I should bless the public with sometimes. MC would always be the voice of reason to help me choose," his eyes softened, "Though they always said at the end that the most beautiful thing about me was my heart, something no one could see but radiated from the outside-in." Lucifer sighed, closing his eyes as he put aside his pride, and spoke. "They check on me in the middle of the night. I swear they have an alarm. They'll come into my office to see if I'm still awake. If I am, so long as the work isn't truly urgent, they'll poke my cheek and play with my hair until I give in and go to bed."

Everyone turned to Levi. The otaku's face was bright red as he avoided everyone's gaze. "Your turn, Levi," Mammon ordered. "Come on. I know that MC's super gentle with ya. Ya have to have somethin' to add." Leviathan pouted before mumbling. "They'll hold my hand when we're in crowds and in public because they know how anxious it makes me. If I start to freak out, they'll just gently squeeze my hand and pull me along until they can find a quiet space where I can calm down a bit," he groans and glares at Mammon. "What's your point?"

"His point," Satan began calmly, "is that MC loves us all equally. They take special care to do the little things to ensure that we all know that we are loved by them." Mammon nodded and pointed and Satan. "Exactly!" Lucifer hummed in thought. "Though this doesn't fix the problem of MC having no regard for their own safety." Everyone winced. There was no denying that. You admitted it yourself. You were reckless, and in a place like the Devildom, that kind of behaviour would get you killed one day. What would happen if you weren't with them one day? Just like you currently weren't. Memories of your storm out swirled in all of their heads, and concern pooled heavily in their stomachs. "Has anyone heard from them yet?" Belphie asked, looking uncharacteristically nervous. But then again, he was always protective of you as he never wanted you to get hurt again, especially since he had been responsible for so much of your pain in the past. Beel opened his mouth to respond when Asmodeus's D.D.D. went off. Everyone eagerly stood, as Asmo pulled out the device and answered it without checking. "MC? Are you alright?" "Put it on speaker!" Levi snapped, crowding as close to his brother as he could. Asmodeus nodded and quickly did as told. The voice that answered wasn't you, as they had all hoped, but rather Solomon. "I'm afraid they're not," the brother's felt their blood freeze at Solomon's words, as time seemed to stand still around them. Solomon's voice was cold and stern, showing his obvious anger at the demons. "I apologize for not contacting you all sooner, but I was spending every last second of my time and energy on trying to keep MC from dying of blood loss. That, and Luke is quite determined to keep the lot of you as far from MC as possible. If it was up to him I wouldn't even be calling you all right now. I, however, figured that you should at least be made aware of their condition." None of them heard a thing after the words "dying from blood loss" reached their ears. Lucifer took the D.D.D. from Asmo's shaking hands. "What happened? The last we saw them they-" "Presumably walked away from a fight with all of you and was trying to come to us. Yes. I'm aware. I read Beelzebub's texts on MC's phone," everyone glanced at Beel. His brows narrowed as he kept his eyes fixed on the D.D.D. "To answer your question, MC didn't make it to Purgatory Hall last night. They were jumped by a group of three demons who seemed to think that human would make a delectable midnight snack. What do you think, Beelzebub? Is that true? Is the taste of human flesh, really so delicious? I think I've heard you comment as much once or twice before you all began your relationship," Solomon spat the words accusingly. Fury danced on his tongue as though he was Wrath himself. Beel winced back and put a hand on his stomach as flipped inside of him. Belphie growled at the mention in his defence. "Stop dancing around the subject and get to the point. What happened? Are they okay?" The demons were surprised to hear a snarl come from the other end. "I already told you, they aren't. Luke had opened a window to air out some of the kitchens after he failed a new recipe he was trying out when he heard their screams. By the time we got there one of them had eaten half of their right leg, while was one biting along their shoulder, and the other was trying to choke them to death. Simeon and I were able to get the heathens off of them and incinerated them on the spot, but MC was already unconscious. While we were fighting the demons, Luke was just barely able to cast enough healing spells to stop the bleeding and stabilize them. Simeon and I have been working ever since on using every spell, charm, and potion that we know to keep them alive and somehow attempt to heal their injuries." At the mention of MC's leg have been mostly eaten, Beel turned and threw up on the ground. No one moved to comfort him, as they were too distracted by their own states of shock. "A-Are-" Mammon began to choke out before clearing his throat. "Are they

alive? Please tell me they're alive." The answer hung just out of their grasp. Waving dangerously above them like a deadly knife held up by a string. No matter what the response would be, all the brothers felt as though they may faint. "They're alive. Simeon had to use all his power to bring their blood count levels up to a healthy level, and their shoulder was dislocated, they most likely have a concussion going off of their head injury, not to mention their right leg was unsalvagable and had to be amputated, but yes. They are, at the very least, alive." Mammon joined Beel. Satan stood still, though he had changed into his demon form and the aura of pure wrath filled every cranny of the room. Asmodeus held a hand over his mouth as tears streamed steadily down his face. Leviathan had stumbled away from the group and was in the beginning stages of a panic attack. Belphie stared at the phone with a bewildered expression, his eyes pricked with tears, as though he couldn't believe the words coming from Solomon's mouth.

Lucifer was doing everything he could not to hurl the phone across the room.

Solomon continued. "Luke is currently watching them and making sure that they remain stable, while Simeon and I rest. As such, you will have no luck if you try to see them right now. I'll text you when I wake up and then you can come to see them," with that, Solomon hung up. Anxiety, grief, and remorse clung to each of the brothers like a new skin. Earlier they were arguing that all of them had your love, and because of that, all of them had nearly lost you. ***Duh duh duh!!! Part three to come. Part three will probably be the final part, but I don't know. Haven't quite figured out how this is going to end yet. Though a heads up, a may fill out another request before pt. 3 is up just to give me a break from the heavy angst. Thank you all so much for supporting me! And thank you to @millenniumofpain for the request!***

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absolutepokemontrash · 3 years

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The Brothers With an MC That’s Only Soft for Them

So, cute Headcanons are my kryptonite! Please enjoy, my fluff loving brethren!

Lucifer

We at Stupid Headcanons inc. recommend that MC does not inflate this bastard’s ego further, but if they choose to…

Lucifer, the morning star, a high ranking demon, does not need MC’s affection… that was a lie he C R A V E S it.

This pairing is actually quite complimentary, Lucifer is only soft for MC, MC is only soft for Lucifer, perfectly balanced.

MC shouldn’t expect Lucifer to be too reciprocal to their affections in public until they’re both neck deep into the relationship, but in private, hoo boy.

The “good job!”s, the hugs, the quick pecks on the cheek, all of it just made Lucifer practically melt. He adores all the affection, and it’s all for him.

Finally, someone in this house appreciates him…

“Lucifer, try not to overwork yourself, if you need anything, just ask, okay?” “Thank you, MC.” “Hey MC! I need help, pass me the remote.” “YOU CAN WALK OFF A CLIFF BELPHIE! Love you, Lucifer.”

And to be honest, some of the roasts are funny, but MC, dearest, please dial down the sass near Lord Diavolo.

Mammon

Of course MC’s favourite is the Great Mammon! Heh, who else would it be? Not that he needs this human’s affection or anything!

…screw it, please MC, give him more head pats.

Hand holding, hugs, resting his head on MC’s lap… Mammon’s really living the life.

In public Mammon is constantly trying to get MC to shower him in praise and affection in his own weird tsundere kind of way. It’s good thing MC is always willing to give their demon all the love they have.

It just makes him so happy that all of MC’s affection belongs to him, it makes his greedy little heart sing.

MC’s love and care tragically does not save him from being caught for his shenanigans, but MC, stone cold bitch that they are, will always do something bad to get strung up next to him.

“MC, what’re ya doin’ here?” “Oh you know babe, just hanging around.”

Nothing makes him smile more than when they stick up for him, to MC, he isn’t scummy trash, he’s the great Mammon! Their super amazing guardian! He does what he can to live up to MC’s image of him!

Since Mammon’s super supportive of his human, he’ll always provide reaction sound affects whenever MC delivers a verbal smack down.

Levi

MC likes him? Must be a joke. Who’d like a gross Otaku like him…?

The human exchange student apparently.

They’d listen with a look of pure adoration on their face whenever Levi would ramble about his favourite anime, they’d help him organize his figurines, they’d play video games with him…

Man… MC’s really playing the long con here on this practical joke.

When Levi isn’t drowning in self doubt, he absolutely loves how sweet and gentle MC is around him, a side only he gets to see… *swoon*

A cold mean character that’s only soft for their love interest??? That’s one of Levi’s top five favourite romantic tropes!

Levi’s often taking notes on MC’s snappy remarks so he can sass people while he streams, he’s not too good at it, so he just streams with MC present. His viewership goes up whenever exponentially whenever MC says anything.

“Someone in the chat just said I must be insanely lonely-” “There’s no way in hell you’re lonelier than that guy at night. His bed ranks number one in the top ten loneliest places ever.”

Satan

At first, Satan took more of an analytical interest in MC’s attitude, they’re either suicidally impulsive or very confident in their ability to run from danger if they think they can sass demons and get away unscathed.

Once the two connect and MC goes soft for him, it’s game over. Satan’s weakness is cute things, and nothing is cuter to him than his usually mean MC raining affection and compliments down upon him!

Satan finally has a leg up on Lucifer! The human adores him and isn’t afraid to talk back to that pretentious motherfucker-

MC sits in Satan’s lap and the two read together, they smuggle cats into the house, they lay in bed together plotting the downfall of their enemies… just normal couple things.

Sometimes MC just sits next to him and makes a particularly nasty quip at someone else, then give him a big ol kiss on the cheek.

It just makes him oh so happy…

“Honey, I brought you tea!” “Ah, thank you MC.” “I took it from Lucifer’s private stash of relaxing tea :D” “You really are my soulmate, aren’t you?”

Asmo

Gasp! MC’s so mean! Do it more!

Asmo, sassy god he is, appreciates a good snide remark or twelve, so he’s always got a front row seat to MC’s shennaniganery.

Before the pact, he was back in the peanut gallery with Satan wondering when MC’s words would come back to bite them, but after the pact, nothing’s touching the human. Their sass is completely consequence-less as long as Asmo’s around!

These two are a match made in hell, literally. Asmo and MC get to be so in sync that they manage to make each other’s insults better by working together.

“I’d give you the name of a few surgery places but I don’t think they implant brains into unlucky people like yourself.” “They might be able to implant a better personality though~.”

Asmo’s fully willing to flaunt his relationship in public. Sort of in a “look at us! MC’s only nice to me! Eat shit losers!” kind of way.

It isn’t all vanity and insults, MC always finds a way to make Asmo feel better whenever he’s feeling down. MC makes sure to tell Asmo as often as possible that they love him for more than just his looks, and it makes the Avatar of Lust swoon.

Just as long as MC never turns their razor sharp wit on Asmo, he’s their cheerleader forever.

Beel

Good choice, MC.

Despite his resting bitch face, Beel’s a big softie, everyone knows that, and as the Simpsons said, ‘the strong must protect the sweet’.

Well… MC isn’t as strong as Beel, but they will verbally eviscerate anyone who even dares insinuate anything not nice about their precious gigantic cinnamon roll!

“Listen up bitches! Not you Beel, we’re all glad you’re here.” “^_^” “Y’ALL ARE IN DEEP SHIT.”

Beel loves how affectionate MC is! Doesn’t matter if it’s in public or private, he and MC are almost always at least holding hands.

MC always has emergency snacks on them, they never get upset when Beel eats everything in the house, they just smile and hand over whatever food they have on them and help fix the problem.

Beel is probably one of the only characters who would try and get MC to branch out and be nicer to everyone and not just him. Whether this works depends on MC.

Belphie

Does he deserve this? No. Did he almost start crying when MC began to show him genuine care and affection? Yes. Does he nearly die of laughter every time MC snaps at someone? Yes.

Belphie’s not sure why MC decided that they were going to love him of all demons… but they just… understand him.

They listened patiently and offered a shoulder to cry on, even after he hurt them… their understanding, their compassion, just wow. Belphie really lucked out.

MC lets him nap, fluffs his pillows, reminds him to wash his pillow cases and comforter, gets him sushi, like geez… what a simp… *sniffle*

In return, Belphie offers cuddles. Cuddles and quality time together. For the first time in how many millennia Belphie is going to get off his ass and do something for someone if they ask.

It’s a miracle.

Belphie isn’t one for flaunting a relationship but… he may just let some people know that this super mean human likes him the most by giving his human a quick kiss.

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arcadejohn127-9 · 3 years

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ALSO- I have a request! Brothers (+royals if you want) reacting to an MC who is extremely affectionate once they like someones- gives hugs, praises often, gives gifts, does their best to help when they can- but if any of this affection is returned they cry. Hard. Because they're emotionally constipated and any affection or love they receive overwhelms them- this also embarrasses them extremely-

Damn.... didn't think I'd feel called out by a prompt request XD it seems my time has come!

I'm guessing royals are Diavolo and barbatos so I added them but if you ever request again and someone you wanted wasn't here, feel free to comment and I'll make sure to add them

Brothers + Diavolo & barbatos with an overly affection MC with issues

Lucifer:

He grew use to your affection ways

The words of praise when you notice he finished a work load

Or when you'd pat his head when he was tired

At first he wondered why you would handle or touch him likes he's a fragile doll but he grew to love how gentle you were

Subconsciously he'd lean his head down whenever he completed a task expecting a head pat

Even if you weren't there but if he's caught he'll just pretend he was tired

Lucifer wasn't always the most affectionate, especially as he rarely shows how much he genuinely loves the people around them

He decided to return the gesture, you recently got a high grade in a class you were struggling in

He patted your head, giving it a light ruffle

"You did good, you're improving alot - it's very promising."

Didn't expect you to start crying, aggressively shoving away your tears

"what's wrong? Did something-"

"I just- this is embarassing- you patted my head and people don't really do that for me and I just-"

"Ah, I see, then I shall do it more often."

"even in public?"

He was never a public man, wanting to get his softer side hidden in the protection of his soul and the walls surrounding his room

But here you were, crying because he simply caressed your cheek

He wants you to be happy and feel as loved as he does

So he'll happily push his walls down for you

"if it means this much to you, then yes but let's keep it appropriate."

Mammon:

"How's my handsome super model?! Did it go well? Aww you look tired, let's get you rested, okay?"

He's so in love

No one has ever made him feel this mooshy and love sick and he's ANCIENT

He's use to his brothers always insulting him - he likes a good tease and making a rude remark about each other but they tend to push it

They hit his Insecurities and think he can handle it because they're demons

But he wasn't always

Then you came along, giving him head pats and words of praise

Always standing up for him

He fell for you so quickly and so hard

He basically turns into a puppy when he's with you

When you left with Satan to get groceries he had to be forced to not go with you, waiting at the stairs for you to come back

As soon as Satan left with even your bags included, he came bolting for you

Leaping into your arms and squeezed you tight, insisting he didn't miss you but just got bored

The way he's nuzzling your cheek says otherwise

When you began crying he immediately panicked

"Did Satan do something to ya?! I swear I'll beat-"

"I'm just not use to others being as affectionate as I am back to me - it's okay."

"Huh?! Well I guess the greatest demon of all time has to be that person, that's me! Don't forget it, okay?! I'm going to smother you."

Mammon is already a touchy person but knows to be respectful, since that day his hands are always on you

Either holding your hand, touching your shoulder, petting your hair or just Hugging you

Levithan:

Levithan isn't one to give or receive when it comes to affection

He tends to get overwhelmed by just a head pat and gets embarassed if his fingers accidentally brush against yours

You're an overly affectionate person

He's a simple man who needs self worth

It's definitely a good duo

You've learned to be more vocal about your praises and affections, still testing the waters with physical touch

But from time to time he'll ask to get a head pat if he's really proud of himself

Has made you call him your little pog champ

"Levi are you- oh sorry you're streaming- I'll just leave these here."

He was confused until he saw the section dish filled with different snacks with a energy drink in the middle

He almost teared up

"No! Stay with me, they'll like you!"

In an act of no thoughts and boldness, he pulled you into his lap

You fell awkwardly and was half straddling half on his side

As soon as you got comfortable you hide your face In his neck forcing back tears

Not wanting to cry on stream

"You're so sweet, levi, I'm sure your followers can agree."

He literally short circuited

Hiding his face in your shoulder as he got flustered

"You're sweeter than me, you're always being nice to me - I really lo- like you for that."

Anyone who watched that stream now ships you - the non believers didn't believe all the stories he told about you but now they had physical proof

That stream was re-upload so many times with comps filled with him gushing about you

Levithan is determined to make sure you never see them but it's too late and you cried with joy in your room

Next time you saw him you kissed his cheek and he immediately melted

Did kiss your cheek back though but did it so quick and harsh that you stumbled backwards

Satan:

Someone being gentle to him????

Someone who doesn't keep away from his because of his sin????

Who??? What??!!

You're the who! he was SHOCKED you were so happy to get close to him and just treat him so kindly

He made a theory on the Devildom detectives group that you're actually an angel but it backfired by demons just telling him he's got feelings for you

He does but he didn't expect to get called out on a whole forum

"You're really smart, thanks for always helping me with my studies - I've found It alot easier to study and remember all my notes now, you're a good teacher!"

He's so smitten with you

You could be saying the most disgusting or insulting thing and he'd still smile and nod

He needed help getting food for this secret but really not so secret pet cat and you gladly accepted to help him

When you two were just spending time together in his room and when suddenly picked up his cat

You didn't think too much of it but grinned when he booped the cats nose onto yours

"thank you for being so kind to me- it means alot."

the cat was like you; overly affectionate so it didn't surprise you when it started gently pawing at your face and giving you little kisses

"I feel embarrassed by admitting this so I'm letting Chaos show how I feel."

He avoided looking at you

It would be for the best as you started crying, taking the cat from his hold and kissing it's head repeatedly

"and that's how I feel about you trying to move through your discomfort and be open with me."

His cheeks are BURNING

Holds your hand throughout the rest of the hang out

Asmodeus:

You're being gentle and affection despite Everyone perceiving him as a sex hungry annoyance?

You're immediately his favourite - sorry Solomon

You always understood his protectiveness over his appearance

Fixing his hair and pushing back stands if you ever pet it

You didn't need to but you always told him you washed your hands before touching his face

You always did these simple things to make him feel at ease

But he loved your touch

No matter any comment he makes; he adores you and just being able to have these tender moments with you

He knew you were special to him when you walked in on him

Barely awake, hair messy, no makeup or moisturizer - he didn't look even the slightest bit appealing

And just smiled, looking at him no differently even when his voice came out tired and croaky

"You're really pretty even when you just wake up, it's so unfair - what's your secret?"

"because it's me, darling! I always look good~"

Internally, he was freaking out about how you liked him at what he deemed - his most unattractive state

So it only made sense he became more touchy and grew closer to you

"are you sure I look good in this? I know you're very up to date with fashion."

"You look stunning, I haven't seen a bad look on you yet, perhaps your charm is just as high as mine."

He was holding your hips, smiling as you both looked in the mirror

He wrapped his arms around you, leaning on your shoulder

"I think you look good all the time, you're just amazing like that."

You tried to hide your tears but he could see them, immediately asking you what's wrong

"Nothing- I just- that means alot coming from you and you're always being so affection towards me....its really nice."

He just hugs you tighter, smiling

"I just treat you how you treat me, you're a real angel."

Beezlebub:

This guy is worried about so many things

He's scared of hurting you

He's worried if he gets carried away with touching you he'll make you uncomfortable and his gluttony will act up; wanting more of your tender touch until he feels full

The last thing he wants is to make you uncomfortable or you feel forced to be affectionate to him because he could throw a fit

He's always ashamed of his hunger tantrums

But when he does do affection it's either carrying you or holding your hand

But was so happy whenever you cuddled hi against him or when you gave him praise

He could spend the whole day with you running your fingers through his hair, telling him he's a good demon and that he means something to you

"Can you finish this for me? I'm not feeling that hungry right now."

You offered your bowl to Beel, he happily took it

As you two spent time with each other he noticed you eyeing some of the more sweeter things set out on the table

He gently pushed it towards you

"Eat if you want it, I'll share."

You waved your hand, not wanting to take food from him

"I'm just snack-ish, I can't eat a meal right now."

You knew how hungry he could get and didn't want to leave him peckish

You knew that small feeling could easily turn into something bigger

But he just nudged it closer to you

"You eat what you want, I'll have what you don't finish."

You finally agreed, knowing he was insisting on you to eat with him

He patted your head, smiling as he watched you eat

"are you sure you won't still feel hungry?"

"you make me feel full, it soothes another type of hunger in me, it's nice."

He grabbed your hand, nuzzling his cheek against it, he couldn't stop smiling as you just looked at him in surprise

You finally grinned, tearing up and shook your head, you leaned against him and continued eating

Gripping his hand tighter as you pushed back your tears

Belphegor:

He was spoilt

Beel was always looking after him, helping him get ready for school and drying his hair, carrying him around when he was too tired to walk

And you were only fueling his spoilt nature

You always showered him in affection

Petting his hair whilst he laid his head on your lap, combed his tail, told him he looked cute

"My precious little belphie, are you feeling okay? I noticed you were struggling to sleep today at lunch."

Whilst he believed he looked intimidating with his heavy bags and sleepy grin

You found him adorable, treating him like a sweet innocent boy on those special nights of just you two cuddling

It's been a long time since he's felt innocent

You were always checking in on him

Making him feel special and cared for

He was a soft mess in your hands

"Hold me more, your hands feel so nice~"

He placed his hands on yours, making you gently squish his cheeks

"Don't you wanna cuddle?"

He raised a brow, a smug smile growing on his face

"it seems you want to."

"we don't have to-"

"If you wanna be held just ask, I'm more than happy to hold you."

He wrapped his arms around you, shifting his position and buried his face into your chest, humming as your hands ran through his hair

He gave you a small squeeze

"It feels good to be the one hugging you, you're always so comfy~"

He began murmuring how much he loves this time with you, drifting to sleep as he praised you, letting himself mindlessly go on about how wonderful and sweet you are until he started to snore

You let your tears fall

Holding him closer as you softly thanked him for his words

He just hugged you tighter in his sleep, his smile growing

UNDATEABLES↓

Diavolo:

This man is TOUCH STARVED

the fact you're unafraid to be with him and around him is already amazing but you freely hold his hand and pat his head

He thinks he's knocked his head and been taken to the celestial realm

People are intimidated by his title as prince and having you so care free in his company is new for him

So of course he enjoys how affectionate you are!

He embraces all your touches and praise!

He's even had you sitting on his lap during meetings, letting you hug him after a tiring day of studying

"You did great today, I really felt your passion for this new project, I think the students will really enjoy it!"

He gets so happy everytime you even look his way

Your smile alone fuels him for the whole day

"Meet me in the castle today, there's something I need you to do for me."

You agreed, not thinking much of it; most likely a new update on the school fair

What you didn't expect was to be greeted by shopping bags and gift boxes and even a human sized teddy bear with demon horns, you tried to ignore them as Diavolo came jogging down the steps

"What did you need me for?"

"I want you to see what you like, I bought as much as I could before Barbatos stopped me, I hope they're up to your liking."

You were speechless

You felt as if you touched the gifts you wouldn't be able to hold back; you were excited to see what he got but you didn't want to seem too excited

"Please, go ahead - it's all yours unless something is not up to your liking."

You finally went through the shopping bags; there was clothes, products, jewelry, shoes and all other sorts of items

You hugged the giant close to your chest, choking back on your tears

"thank you-"

"No need to thank me, you're always so kind to me I just wanted to return the favour."

Barbatos:

You were a like a breath of fresh air, someone he could just go to

He can unwind and be rewarded for his efforts and others normally don't notice

Whilst his lord was always praising him, it felt different with you

It felt so joyful

You would brush through his hair, always thank him even if he's just doing his job and always seem to be in awe at what he does

He'll never forget the gloves you gave him, sleek and a perfect fit with a cursive 'B' stitched to the edge - they were enchanted to warm up whenever he got cold

"Wow! You prepared all this?! That must of taken you ages! You're really amazing, Barb."

"I'm simply doing my job but your praise makes it all worth it."

Often invites you to the castle for tea

He'll make any excuse to have you come see him; the prince wants to talk, he wants a hand with a recipe, he needs an outsider's opinion on something

Whatever he can come up with; he will use it

You might as well just stay in one of the guest bedrooms because you're always coming to the castle

Speaking of excuses; today Barbatos decided to thank your lovely behaviour

Convincing you to come to the castle and meet him in the dining hall

"I saw you eyeing some recipes whilst helping me in the kitchen so, I made you them AND wrote down how I did it exactly so you can make them any time you like."

"I- you didn't have to do that! Thank you for this, they look delicious."

"I always wanted to give you this."

You couldn't even ask what it was

He already held it up for you to see

It was a box of gloves with your the first letter of your name stitched onto the edge

They were heat up gloves!

"I thought you'd appreciate your own as they'll always be handy but the gesture of matching with someone you're close to is very appealing."

He helped you put the gloves on, pinching the tip of your fingers to make sure they fitted properly

He held your hand, admiring how it looked in his

You couldn't stop a few tears forming, smiling

You felt abit silly crying over heat up gloves but you couldn't help it

"I want to match with you more often, perhaps one day it'll end up being a ring."

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chronic-claire-universe · 2 years

Text

Ran Haitani: Hit In The Club

It has been a lot of time that I had this story in my mind, enjoy some thirst for the most favourite older braided brother of Tokyo Roppongi's quarter 💜

Characther: Ran Haitani

Warnings: Smut, Strip Show, Cross Dressing, TW Homophobia (Ran and the reader being insulted), Public Sex, Violence, 18+, Minors DNI.

A.N: Tenjiku's Ran on the run, here the only version available is this one, although someone doesn't specifically request Bonten!Ran.

Roppongi, the night life district of Tokyo, everyone here knows that to play a concert you must pass under the Haitani Brothers, but here you are in Eriko Club, playing with your band staring at the brothers from the top of the stage, while Ran's eyes pierce on your body, you point towards him gaining a smirk from the older brother. A rush play in your fingers while you play your solo and throwing your head behind you moan in pleasure for the notes playing on the amp. The stroboscopic lights on your body, your singer nearing you and pressing her boobs on your body, give the people a show to enjoy, a roar come from the public and here she shoves her tongue on your mouth while you keep on playing the notes on the wooden board.

"It was a good show" your singer says while helping the drummer, putting everything behind, "Yeah it was, no homophobic asses finally" the bassist says. Being in a only female band sometimes brings critics, especially if you put on a sex show that calling it like that is reductionist. "I'm going to drink something you say after washing your body and changing your sweated shirt, "Ok, do we have have to wait you?" walking towards the counter you shrug your shoulder and say, "Nah, I message you tomorrow!" "Have fun playgirl" the girls shouts in unison, perceiving your intentions. "Gin Tonic please" "Quite strong for this night, it's on me Daiki" Ran says commenting your order, the barman nodded but before preparing your cocktail you reply "No Haitani, not tonight, I'm not on your merch" but seemingly the oldest brother doesn't care what you said and near the glass to you, "Drink, it was a great show. I'm glad you didn't ask for my permission to play in here", smirking at his statement you raise the glass and say "To the Haitani Brothers, who don't control everyone in Roppongi! Cheers!" "Cheers" Ran says raising his cognac. "Since I don't control you, mind to give me a show. I feel really alone tonight" he says with lunging eyes, "I'm not one of your whores, Ran, I'll give you a show just because I have fun doing it for everyone". A chair left in the middle of the club suddenly the music starts:

Ran pressed on the chair, sees your hips swinging to rhythm boozing on the notes of the music. Ass on his lap, hand on his neck, breath on his hears, t shirt flying and bra in the view of Ran, suddenly feeling the instinct you start to sing and taking him, you make him follow him your movements, keeping the voice loud to let him enjoy everything. "That was great" he says with a genuine smile, "Thanks Ran" you say adjusting yourself and kissing him on a cheek, "You're welcome doll, I knew I didn't regret letting you play in here. Wanna drink something more?" "Nah have to go, tomorrow I have classes" you say smiling and getting ready to go, "It's late, I bring you back home" he says seriously giving no space to objection, since he took out his baton.

"So this is your house" Ran says seeing a nice loft with lot of objects that reflects your personality, "It is, nothing special. It's what I can afford with my job" "Job? College?" Ran says putting his cloved hand on the chin, "Mmm yeah, parents aren't in the picture, music school has fees and my brother's instruction too" you say nonchalantly, "Little brother too?" Ran says surprised that you had a lot in common, "Mmm but it isn't a Rindou Haitani and he doesn't beat people to gain money" Ran smiles and says "Hey don't judge, everyone gain money in their best way", "You're right, I'm not here to judge".

That night was meaningful, you became the love interest of the oldest Haitani and he couldn't help but knew you better and help you, better job, better condition but the stress was still there. "There's a show tonight Ran, are you coming?" you say while changing into a maid costume, "Mmm princess, what's this?" Ran says with wided eyes, "Just my stage clothes, wanna try something?" you say smirking him really well, suddenly he sees a pair of stilettos and his eyes shines, "Can I take this?" "Of course". Walking in the streets of Roppongi, the sound of the high-heeled made everyone turn around looking your boyfriend, "You're so fuckin proud and hot Ran" you say while slapping his ass and adoring his androgynous side, "I know princess, let's spice things up" he says before entering the door of the club where you played, putting you on the counter he ease his tongue inside your mouth letting you moan, "Fucking lesbian" you suddenly hear someone say, only to let Ran turn around, one hit with his baton and the guy is tighted in a chair watching as Ran takes you to the counter and taking your slip he just slids, "Gonna let this idiot know how much you love this cock!", long and girthed penis enters your wet cunt and an exhaling moan leaves both your mouths, "Shit! No matter how many times I fuck you, you're always so tight princess" "R-ran harder" you moan not caring of the presence of people passing by, "As you wish" he says taking your legs and putting them around his hips. The force of his thrusts let you whimper everytime he hit the sweet spot inside you, "Ah Ran- Oh god!" you keep on moaning incoherently, drank in pleasure you understand anything, you just enjoy Ran forcing his cock inside you, shaping your pussy for him. Ran feels chills in his spine as soon as he sees the guy with a bulge on his jeans "Still blabbering nonsense shithead" Ran says looking at the guy provoking him and giving harsher and deep thrusts, "Ah, princess, let this asshole see how my cock makes you cum", tears leave your eyes, the coil snaps and you finally let yourself come undone moaning Ran's name and gripping on him, feeling his grunts you feel his load come in spurts inside you.

"Let's go princess, you have to get ready" Ran says after you adjust your clothes and pushing the guy to the floor with the baton, "He had his lesson" he continues smiling to you.

@httptamaki @thesimphouse @ravenina14 @eriskaitto @nanaminswaifu @ebiharachan @strawberrysanzu

| Taglist | Ko-Fi |

#tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x reader #ran haitani #ran haitani x reader #ran haitani smut #ran haitani fluff #tokyo revengers smut #tok rev haitani #tok rev x reader #tok rev smut #SoundCloud

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wincore · 4 years

Text

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.

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