#and then your bias the only one in the world posts not ONCE but TWICE
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Dance For Us
2chopsticks2eyes - Masterlist
Pairing:
Lee Minho/Lee Know x Fem Reader
Lee Yongbok/Lee Felix x Fem Reader
Hwang Hyunjin x Fem Reader
Lee Yongbok/Lee Felix x Hwang Hyunjin
Themes: Smut… Just a lot of smut
Word Count: ~17k | AO3
Warnings: Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, Alcohol, Cussing, Oral Sex, Hand Jobs, Vaginal Fingering, Blow Jobs, Vaginal Sex, Unprotected Sex, Implied Coercion
Summary: DanceRACHA sees you dancing to ‘Taste’ before their concert and they want a private show. Up close and personal.
Author's Note: This work was inspired by a request from @felixs-voice-makes-me-wanna. It’s been a while since I’ve posted anything so I hope this spicy fic makes up for it.
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It's kind of strange, isn’t it? How anyone, literally anyone could be watching you when you’re in a public setting? Especially when there are hundreds of people surrounding the same area. Creepy almost…
But it doesn’t really help when there’s a circle of people dancing while waiting outside the stadium for the Stray Kids concert to start. You had never realized how supportive other Stays could be of each other and, although you were uncomfortable around a bunch of strangers with no one accompanying you, the others really welcomed you with open arms.
You were surprised with the amount of Stays that had learned the choreography of their idol’s songs and impressed by the quality of it. You were somewhat shy to admit it, but you weren’t a stranger to some of the dances yourself. In fact, there were a number of songs that you were pretty confident you had down to a T.
You couldn’t help it that Stray Kids songs made you want to move your body subconsciously. “Why don’t you get out there? You definitely seem like you want to dance!” You were startled by the guy next to you whom you had befriended while watching everyone. Apparently, you had been slightly dancing to the songs you knew the choreography to and a massive blush spread across your cheeks.
“Oh no no no. I could never…” You chuckled shyly and the guy smirked at you.
“You know that no one is going to judge you here? And if they do, then fuck them anyway.” You looked down and fidgeted with your fingers. You felt a warm hand gently pat your shoulder. “And you know that I will definitely cheer you on!”
You smiled up at him and then fear crossed your face when someone requested ‘Taste’. Fuck. He smiled brightly at you and nudged you to the center of the circle.
“You got this! Fighting!”
You kept your head down the whole way to stand with a few others that were eager to dance and you tried to focus just on the music as the opening notes rang out.
You had only learned the choreography of all of the songs you memorized of your ultimate bias. Lee Know.
You could never match the amount of precision and finesse that it took to do his part, but it wouldn’t be much easier learning the other’s parts either. Felix with his powerful moves and flexibility that have jaws dropping. Hyunjin with his intensity and how he flows like water in between moves. It was hopeless no matter what, but you always tried your best.
Your nerves were whisked away into the wind once Lee Know’s part started and you trusted your body to move on its own. It seemed like it took you forever to figure out how to look sexy enough to do those moves while you were learning. You didn’t really feel sexy, but now you knew your body well enough to trust it to move how you wanted it to.
The song whisked you away and you didn’t even think twice about all the eyes watching you and the few other Stays that moved in sync along with you. When the song ended and you were gasping for air with sweat dripping down your neck, you heard a loud applause and you crashed back down to reality.
Your face was blazing red as you shakily bowed your head and you sprinted back to your newfound friend. “Holy shit that was amazing! Why in the world would you want to hold that back?!” He shouted over the masses of cheers.
You just looked down and covered your face, proud that people liked your performance, but embarrassed that people saw you doing something so provocative. “I… I guess I just don't like being watched…” You meekly smiled up at him and he smiled back.
“Well I hate to break it to you, but you’re too pretty for people not to watch.” He cocked a smirk at you and you blushed with a smile as you turned your attention back to the festivities.
- - - - - - - - - -
By the end of the concert, you were sweaty, tired, and out of breath, but you never wanted it to end.
You had managed to grab a ticket right next to the stage and it was so fucking surreal to see your idols so close. You felt like you were hallucinating any time they made eye contact with you and you were sure you had the most idiotic expression of ‘starstruck fangirl’ planted on your face.
The most eye contact, though, was made by the bright smile of Lee Felix. It legitimately felt like you were being basked in sunlight any time he looked at you and you had to keep reminding yourself to keep it together, woman. You weren’t as loud or as attention-hungry as the Stays around you so you had not a single goddamned clue why his eyes kept drifting back to yours.
When they showed a surprise performance of ‘Taste’ you were done for.
Every two seconds, one of the three dancers would make eye contact with you during the set. You basked in the warmth that was Felix’s wide-eyed gaze, felt your body set ablaze when Hyunjin looked at you with the constant sex eyes he donned while performing, and then you were absolutely chilled to the bone when Lee Know looked down at you like a predator analyzing you.
Needless to say, you were concerned for your health.
During the final ment, your eyes were glued to the astounding god-like beauty of Lee Know and his piercing stare seemed to seek out your own gaze as well. Your body was hot all over and when he looked at you, you had the involuntary reaction to look away. It was as if your body was trying to preserve itself by forcing away the eye contact that made your heart beat out of your chest.
You were surely just imagining things. Seeing what your brain wanted you to see. It would all be over soon anyway and it wouldn’t matter anymore.
Except it did matter.
The concert had ended and you really didn’t want to fight all of the Stays that were filing out of the stadium and then lose your mind with the resulting traffic, so you took it slow and hung back. You sat back down in your seat and decided to scroll through your phone as the masses died down and you were surprised that people had already posted photos and videos of that night.
You smiled at the funny and amazing moments that Stay had captured and you even saw some videos of the activities before the show. As you were scrolling, your thumb froze as you came across a video with ‘Taste’ chiming in the background.
No.
Oh no.
Fuckfuckfuck. There you were. Your vulnerability on full display for the world to see.
NO!
You just sat there with your mouth opening and closing like a damned fish and you practically jumped out of your skin when you heard someone clear their throat in front of you, your phone clattering to the ground as you looked up at the huge, buff, and tall security guard. You must have lost track of time on your phone because when you looked around, the stadium was practically empty.
“O-oh god! I’m so sorry!” You quickly stood up after picking up your phone and collected your things. “I’ll leave right away! Sorry!” You were about to make a move to leave but he stopped you with a gentle hand on your shoulder.
You turned around and probably looked like a frightened bunny as you looked up at the man. However, the warm smile he offered immediately eased your worries. “Actually, ma’am. My name is Tyrone. I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to ask you to come with me.”
All traces of color drained from your face in dread of what you could have possibly done. Had you bumped into the wrong person? Were you too scantily dressed? Were you deemed a threat because you stayed too long? “W-w-wha–?!”
“It will be explained soon, I assure you.” His smile was still warm when he cut off your potential of flurrying questions and he stepped to your side with a gentle touch to your upper back to urge you forward to follow him. For a man that looks like he could kill you in his sleep, he sure is gentle.
You followed him through corridor after corridor and your anxiety only swelled further the longer it took and the deeper you ventured into the bowels of the venue. Just as you were about to question exactly where he was taking you, he stopped in front of a non-descript door. Your curiosity started overtaking your fear as he knocked a couple of times and then slowly opened the door, stepping inside and holding it open for you. You briefly gave him a perplexed look and then stepped inside.
It was just an average lounge room. Completely void of any sign of life and you turned around to see the man still standing at the open door. “Um, can I ask what I did, sir?”
For some reason, he nervously chuckled and it threw you for a loop. “Uhh, heh, well to be honest, I don’t really know. I was just told by the higher-ups to bring you here so they could talk to you. I’m not sure what it’s about, I just do what I’m told. Sorry, little lady.” He shrugged and your shoulders fell in defeat. He pointed to the hallway as he put his hand on the doorknob. “I’ll be right outside if you need me, okay? Make yourself comfortable and someone should be with you soon.”
You shyly nodded your head and he flashed that same warm smile before he turned to go back out.
However, right before he exited, he turned his head back. “Oh yeah! I was supposed to ask what year you were born!” Why the fuck did he need to know that? You looked perplexed but you answered nonetheless. He quickly thanked you as he exited and shut the door behind him. How the fuck were you supposed to make yourself comfortable when you were just basically kidnapped?! I mean, you obviously didn’t feel threatened, but that didn’t mean your anxiety wasn’t skyrocketing!
It felt like you were waiting for ages, pacing back and forth across the windowless room as you kept staring at the door.
After about thirty minutes, you heard a tiny knock at the door and you froze in your overly-frantic tracks. You waited a second and then the door hesitantly opened as a blonde-haired head popped in from around the door.
Oh my god.
OH MY GOD NO FUCKING WAY.
You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t blink. You couldn’t even conjure a single coherent thought in your head as LEE FUCKING FELIX just waltzed into the room like your whole fucking world didn’t just change at the sight of him.
The door quietly shut behind him as he walked toward you with a blinding smile. “Hi there! I’m Felix!” DID HE JUST FUCKING INTRODUCE HIMSELF?!?! OF COURSE HE IS FELIX!!! THERE’S NOT A SINGLE GODDAMNED SOUL WHO DOESN’T KNOW WHO HE IS!!! HOW DOES AN AUSTRALIAN ACCENT SOUND EVEN MORE BEAUTIFUL WHEN IT’S COMING FROM HIS MOUTH?!?!
He stood there with his hand outstretched for a handshake and your face was surely still in shock as you blindly reached out for it while you were memorizing every little feature on his angelic face. You were broken out of your trance once his skin touched yours and you looked down at where his hand gently held your own.
He squeezed it gently and you involuntarily let out a shaky chuckle. “Hm?” You looked up to see him tilting his head in question. Whether it was wondering your name or why you giggled, you didn’t know, but you decided to answer the latter first.
You chuckled again. “I… I’m sorry. I guess it’s just funny that you introduced yourself…” His face softened from his puzzled expression and he chuckled softly as well.
“Heh, I guess you’re right. I guess you already know my name, huh?” You giggled and nodded your head. He squeezed your hand once more but still didn’t make any move to release it. “However, I haven’t had the pleasure of getting your name…”
You quickly shook yourself out of your mystified trance and your eyes widened. “Oh! Oh my god, I’m being so rude, I’m sorry!” You frantically introduced yourself and squeezed his hand back, shaking it and bowing your head in greeting.
He chuckled at your panicking and placed his other hand on top of the one already in his grasp, you shut up real quick as you looked at his blinding smile that emitted a beautiful, melodic laugh. “You’re not being rude at all! That is a very beautiful name. It is a pleasure to meet you.”
You nervously chuckled and looked at his hands that encapsulated your own. “I-it’s nice to meet you too…” You shyly smiled and blushed, unable to make eye contact as you bore your eyes into his adorable hands. He surely must be feeling your sweaty palm, why isn’t he pulling away?
“You must be wondering why you’re here, am I right, noona? I can call you noona, yes? You’re a ‘97 girl, right?” Your eyes shot up to meet his own as you tentatively nodded your head. He must have asked Tyrone… He smirked as he finally pulled his hands away. Your hand shot to your clothes to wipe the sweat off your hands and ensure everything looked good. You silently watched as he pulled his phone out of his pocket.
As he did so, you only just then realized that he had changed out of his stage clothes and into a comfy-looking t-shirt and shorts. His hair and makeup were still done up, but he definitely looked at least a little bit more comfortable, and you were grateful for it.
You were knocked out of your trance when Felix held his phone out in front of you. Your stomach dropped out of your ass at the mortifying content on his screen. That same fucking video you saw not even an hour ago was displayed right in front of your humiliated face. “This is you, right?”
Your eyes snapped up to him and your whole face lit on fire as you buried your face into your palms. “Oh god!” You whined pitifully.
You felt a gentle hand on your shoulder and you peered at him through your fingers. “What’s wrong???” He sounded alarmed. “I thought it was amazing!” Your eyes blew wide as your hands slowly dropped from your face.
“Wha-what?” You’re sure you sounded braindead from the disbelief in your tone.
He cocked his eyebrow like it was the most obvious thing in existence. Then his face softened when he deciphered your confusion. “Okay, let me correct that statement. We thought it was amazing.”
“WE?! Who’s we?!” Your shyness was overcome by your bewilderment as you practically yelled the words.
He laughed heartily and, again, you were mesmerized at the sight of him. He looked at you endearingly. “Our dance line of course! Minho-hyung, Hyunjinnie, and I recognize talent when we see it. We were surprised to see you right up front during the concert and it was just plain dumb luck that you happened to still be there when we asked for someone to go look for you.”
OKAY, HOLD THE FUCK UP.
There were so many questions running through your head it almost made you dizzy. First off, how in the world could these trained professionals think you were any type of talented? Next, you realized that you weren’t just imagining things when you caught the three of them looking at you during the concert. And lastly… THEY SPECIFICALLY ASKED SOMEONE TO COME AND TAKE YOU TO MEET THEM?!?!
This was unreal. How were you not dreaming right now? Or passed the fuck out?
He must have sensed your internal mental breakdown because he placed a gentle hand on your shoulder. “I’m sorry that we kind of just forced this on you, but Hyunjin and Minho-hyung would really like to meet you…”
WHAT THE FUCK?! You made the most unattractive choking noise as you gasped and held your hand to your heart, afraid you were about to have a heart attack.
“But if you are uncomfortable with the whole situation, I can have someone take you ba–”
“NO!” Your hands flew to grab him, but you pulled back before you touched him, instead, putting your hands over your mouth in humiliation of your outburst.
He just laughed heartily and moved to put his other hand on your other shoulder. You were dead. There was no way to survive this. Lee Felix was holding you to face him and you were stunned speechless. “Does that mean you are okay with meeting them?”
You could do nothing but nod your head profusely, almost enough to damage your neck. He kept laughing at you and you couldn’t bring yourself to give two fucks about it. You probably looked pathetic at how much you were panicking…
“Well, then!” He pulled out his phone again and typed out a message, the following *bloop* from his phone indicating he sent a text. “They’re on their way!”
“Oh my gosh…” Your mouth involuntarily let out a sliver of your thoughts and you felt his hands lightly squeeze your shoulders before releasing you.
He offered a meek smile. “They wanted me to come first so you would be more comfortable. I guess I didn’t do a great job, huh?” He rubbed the back of his neck nervously and you waved your hands in front of you in protest.
“No no! You’re doing great! It’s just hard to relax when… well… it’s you! Like, you must know the effect you have on people!” It should be entirely obvious that anyone who would be able to meet them would go certifiably insane.
“Oh? And what effect do I have on you?” He stepped forward slightly with a crooked smile and it was a goddamned miracle you didn’t faint. The way he lowered his voice to negative decibels didn’t help one bit.
Was he…? No. Nope. Nuh uh, you needed to pull your brain out of delulu land RIGHT NOW. It was a simple question, nothing more.
“U-uh… I-I… I…” You couldn’t find the ON switch to your brain and you were panicking again.
And as if it couldn’t get any worse, the two of you turn to the door when you both hear the fidgeting of the doorknob. For some reason, that’s all it was. The knob was twisting and turning and then you and Felix watched as someone slammed into the door and Hyunjin came stumbling in.
He cursed under his breath and then stood up straight with a smile on his face once he saw you. As he came in, Lee Know walked in after him guffawing and pointing at him. He cackled a speedy sentence in Korean and you looked at Felix in confusion.
Felix started laughing too as Hyunjin made a sour face and turned to you. “The door was jammed and he was having a breakdown trying to force it open.” Felix cracked up and Hyunjin punched his arm while angrily murmuring something Korean under his breath.
You felt a tiny bit more at ease as you giggled behind your hand.
However, that was short-lived once the two newly arrived men turned their attention towards you. Your smile morphed into one of trepidation real quick.
Hyunjin and Lee Know bowed their heads in tandem in greeting, and then Hyunjin shook his head, as if coming out of a stupor, and stepped forward to offer his hand. Again, you tentatively grasped his hand and he squeezed it with a light shake, releasing it afterward unlike the life-threatening grasp of Felix.
“Hi! I’m Hyunjin!” Felix snorted out a half chuckle and you looked down with a shy, amused smile as well, knowing he was thinking the same thing you were about the introduction. “What? What did I say?” You shook your head and offered a small smile.
“Nothing! Nothing!” You bit your lip to hold back your grin. “I… I’m honored to meet you…” You bowed your head to him and then looked to Lee Know to do the same.
You instantly regretted your eye contact with the man behind Hyunjin because his gaze was sharp and piercing and you felt like you were just stabbed in the chest. Your expression faltered and all of the blood in your body rushed to your face.
You could have sworn you saw a smirk cross his features, but he quickly offered a tight-lipped smile and waved at you, making no moves to come closer as the other two had. “Hi, I’m Lee Know.”
You offered a shaky smile and waved back. Damn your trembling arm to hell. “H-hi…” You introduced your name to both of them and then looked down to the ground, unable to bring yourself to make eye contact any longer than you had to.
You heard Minho speak and you raised your head only slightly when he said something in Korean that almost sounded like… cooing? You heard the other two chuckle and then you really looked up, once again, looking to Felix for answers.
He smirked and then mischievously eyed Minho. “Hyung thinks you’re cute~” He said in a sing-songy voice.
“YAH!” Minho angrily stepped forward and Felix ran behind you while laughing, holding you in front of him by your arms as your eyes blew wide and your heart started racing. That’s it. You were dead. No other explanation made sense.
While Hyunjin doubled over, absolutely howling with laughter, Minho just stared at you with an unreadable expression as your face, once again, turned into a tomato. Surely they are fucking with you. There is no way in hell that this adonis of a man thought you were any type of attractive.
Still, with a completely expressionless face, Minho sighed in tiny English. “Dance for us.”
Your jaw must have completely detached and dropped to the ground like a damned cartoon character because the look on his and Hyunjin’s faces was pure amusement.
Felix quickly walked around to stand in front of you again, attempting to do damage control. “What he means to say…” He rolled his eyes at the elder. “-is that we want to see your performance ourselves. Minho-hyung is our dance leader and he was just about insistent to see if you have any other… skills to show us…” He almost seemed nervous asking the question.
Why was he nervous? If anyone should be nervous, it should be you! You frantically shook your head. “Nononono! I couldn’t possibly… I can’t… I’m not… I-I…” You were terrified that they would even think to ask such a thing. “I am nowhere near as amazing as you guys!” Minho huffed and you looked over to see him roll his eyes and mutter something Korean under his breath. You felt your heart shatter at his disappointment.
You instantly stiffened when you felt an arm wrap around your shoulders from your right. And when you looked over, you stopped breathing. Hyunjin’s face was right fucking next to yours and his smile was stupidly attractive as he looked down at you. “Come on! It’ll be fun!” He lightly squeezed you and you wanted to crawl into a hole and die when a tiny squeak escaped your mouth.
You sucked in your lips and you clenched your eyes shut to hide your horrified expression. You expected teasing, laughing, anything, but all you heard was silence. When you opened your eyes again, you were taken off guard to see that they had gotten closer to you and all three had an expression that looked like they would eat you alive.
Minho stepped up right in front of your face and you felt your bones tremble. He gently grasped your hand in his own and looked deep into your eyes. “Please.” How was it that this man could ask such a vulnerable question, and yet make it sound like a command? He had you ensnared in his gorgeous eyes and there was no chance of escaping.
…but honestly, you couldn’t care less.
“O-okay…” You shakily whispered. An evil sneer morphed onto his face at your meek word of relent.
“Good.” Your eyes widened from the cocky tone in his voice and your eyes followed him as he released your hand and made his way to the door, exiting casually with a friendly nod to Tyrone whom you could see standing just beyond the threshold.
You looked at the tall man still holding you with confusion written on your features. “Why is he leaving?” You almost wanted to cry due to having such a short time with him.
Hyunjin flashed a gorgeous smile, but Felix was the one to speak up and you turned to him. “We can’t do it here, love. We can’t stay in the building all night.” ALL NIGHT?!?! “We’ll sneak you up to hyung’s room so we won’t be bothered.”
You stopped breathing. He called you love. He said all night. He said Minho’s ROOM.
You almost felt sick from the nerves you were feeling. Why, of all people, did they want you to accompany them? And even further, take you back to their room???... “W-wait… you mean his hotel room?!” There was no holding back the disbelief in your voice and Hyunjin chuckled.
When you turned back to look at him, he was even closer to your face (if that was even possible at this point). “You don’t have to if you don’t want to, pretty girl. We just don’t have any other options. We need to make sure we keep you a secret.” He winked and you could tell he was trying to hypnotize you with those damned sex eyes, but you couldn’t even bring yourself to put up a fight. Especially since you could feel him gently caress your arm with the hand he had wrapped around you.
You had to close your eyes and face the floor to collect your thoughts and learn how to speak again. “O-okay… let’s… let’s go…” You exhaled heavily from the amount of air you were holding back and you felt a small hand on your left grasp onto your own.
You heard a gleeful noise from your right. “I’m so excited! Let’s go!” Hyunjin released you and skipped off out the door and down the hall.
Your face must have shown your thoughts because the man holding your hand decided to poke at the worried crease between your eyebrows. “You doing okay in there?” He had an amused smile but you could still see the concern behind his eyes.
Your heart swelled. He really is the world’s best friend, isn’t he? “I’ll be fine. This is all just… a lot.” You nervously chuckled and he squeezed your hand tighter.
“I’m sure it is pretty stressful. If at any point you feel uncomfortable or overwhelmed, just say the word and we can take you home.” You offered a small smile and he returned it. “Okay, well. Let’s get to it. I’m sure they’re already waiting.” And with that, he walked you down the hall, hand in hand, to get ready to head out.
- - - - - - - - - -
You were pretty upset that the rest of the guys had already headed out and you didn’t get the chance to meet them, but you were already blessed beyond compare to even get this far, so you didn’t share your complaints with the three.
They paid for a cab to take you to their hotel and you entered separately from them to hide suspicion and, before you knew it, you were in the hotel elevator with three of the most drop-dead gorgeous creatures you had ever seen.
That was probably the slowest elevator in existence and yet too quick for your liking. You stood on one side, probably looking like a cornered baby gazelle while three hungry lions stood on the other side dissecting you with their eyes. How you would ever be able to get your body to dance for them, you didn’t know.
When the elevator bell dinged to indicate its arrival, you involuntarily jumped out of your skin. Hyunjin and Felix tried to hold back their chuckle, but Minho just cackled and patted your head as he waltzed out of the elevator as if he wasn’t leading you to your demise.
They didn’t even say a word as Minho nonchalantly unlocked the door and the three of you followed him in. You probably looked pathetic. Your arms were tucked in on yourself and your shoulders were tense. You probably looked super tiny in this unnecessarily large room. Unfortunately plenty of room to dance.
Hyunjin and Minho plopped down on the huge couch in the middle of the room and looked at you expectantly as you idiotically stayed frozen in the corridor and Felix closed and locked the door behind you. “Yah.” Minho exclaimed and then motioned to the large space in front of them. It should seem rude, but the look in his eyes didn’t scream malevolent. He just simply didn’t seem to know how to convey what he wanted.
Felix gave him an exasperated look and then turned back to smile at you. “It’s okay, love. We just want to check out your skills firsthand.” All you could do was nod your head obediently, words completely evading your comprehension, as you set down your small clutch purse and stepped up in front of them.
“Um, do you need to take my phone or anything? I know you guys are probably worried about secrecy and all of that sooo….”
Felix offered a fond smile. “Are you planning on telling anyone?” Your eyes popped open and you shook your head profusely. “Then we’re all good! We’ve never really done this before, but we trust you, noona. We are pretty good judges of character.”
Why? Why would they trust a completely random Stay? Of course, you want what’s best for them and they haven’t done anything to make you uncomfortable… well… not in an unwelcome way, but you are afraid of what could happen to them if they trusted the wrong person.
Hyunjin smirked as he stood up and walked to the mini-fridge. His eyes scorched you with their intensity as he returned to the couch with a bottle of wine and a couple of the hotel’s cups, tongue peeking out the corner of his lips as he assessed you. “Do you mind if we drink, angel? We just had a long day and we need to take the edge off.”
“N-no, I don’t mind…” You sounded incredibly small and he flashed his cocky open smile before pouring him and the others a cup.
You watched as the three took a sip, your eyes following the bob of Minho’s Adam's apple as he gulped and you found yourself taking a dry swallow too. Once you finally regained the ability to think about anything other than the dangerous thoughts lurking in your head, you looked up and realized he was boring his eyes into you as he calmly sat down the cup across the coffee table, making a gesture from you to the cup.
You had no clue what he wanted from you. Did he want you to fill it up even more for him? “Huh?” You hated to sound dumb, but you were probably already getting there with the way Minho clicked his tongue in frustration and picked the cup back up. He reluctantly stood from the couch, leaving the other two men to sit and watch your movements like a hawk as he stepped around the table and stood only a foot’s length away from your face.
Without looking away from your frightened eyes, he calmly spoke “Do you want some?” Your eyes widened and you about fainted when Minho flashed a crooked smile of amusement and cocked an eyebrow.
“Wha– I–”
“Hyung knows a lot more English than he likes to let on. He just doesn’t want to have to talk.” Hyunjin rolled his eyes while explaining. “It might help you relax? But you don’t have to if you don’t want any.” You looked down at the cup that Minho was holding up in between your bodies and then back up at his eyes.
He tilted his head with a smile that would normally seem innocent but looked almost teasing on his face. Never straying your eyes from his, you gingerly retrieved the cup from his hand and pulled it to your mouth. He didn’t move a muscle as you tilted back with eyes closed and appreciated the smooth, bittersweet beverage from the cup of the man that had just drank from it.
When you finished your sip and opened your eyes, you were beyond flustered to see that he was looking at your mouth. You couldn’t breathe as you licked the remaining wine off of your lips and watched as he moistened his own as well. When he looked back up to make eye contact, he smirked. “Good girl.”
GOOD GIRL?!?! DID LEE MINHO JUST CALL YOU ‘GOOD GIRL’?!?! You were dead. You could die then and there and be happy.
Unbeknownst to you, that was just the beginning.
Without reclaiming his cup, he stepped back and went to plop back down in his spot on the couch. You just stood there with wide eyes and jaw dropped as you saw them look at you with amusement. “You’re adorable, you know?” Hyunjin leaned forward and propped his elbows up on his knees. He then tilted his head and cutely asked, “Can I keep you?”
Fuck.
“Yah, Jinnie. Stop scaring the poor girl.” Felix grumbled and then turned back to your trembling form. “Ignore him, we just want to see you dance. Maybe even help you out if you’d let us.” He winked at you and you blushed furiously.
Fuck it. You downed the rest of the contents in the cup in one go because you needed all of the liquid courage you could get. When you sat the cup back down in front of Minho, he leaned forward, mimicking Hyunjin’s position, and smiled mischievously at you. You had to force yourself out of the grasp his eyes had you locked in.
“Um… what did you guys want to see me dance to?”
“You know more than one?!” Hyunjin’s eyes blew out and he grasped his heart dramatically. You couldn’t control the giggle from his antics and they all smiled at you, Minho attempting to hide his own grin behind his refilled cup.
“Yeah… I know a lot of them. You can choose one and I’ll see if I know the dance…” The three of them looked at you in amazement and disbelief at your words.
They continued talking for a moment amongst themselves and you, with no knowledge of what they were saying, just stood there looking at your restless feet. “Do you know the choreo for District 9?”
Shit. That was probably the most difficult one!
Still, you did know it…
You nervously chuckled. “Uhhh yeah, but I’ll probably be awful at it. It’s not an easy one.”
Felix and Hyunjin had giddy smiles while Minho looked at you with scrutiny. “Who’s part do you know?” Hyunjin looked at you with wide eyes.
You blushed furiously. Will they know your bias just by your answer? Surely not, right? Still, you were shy to admit it. You looked down as you twiddled your thumbs, unable to look at them as you answered. “Minho– I-I mean Lee Know…” You chanced a look up at him and he looked like he was trying to hide his smile once again.
“I want to see it!” Hyunjin raised his hand excitedly and eagerly looked at his other members. They both nodded as Minho pulled out his phone, his Anya sticker even more unrecognizable than the last time you saw him post a picture with it. He laid it in front of him with the song ready to play and then he held out an open palm to gesture to the floor, seemingly to order you into position.
You quickly complied and got into formation, which you quickly realized was a rather promiscuous position for a female dressed in fishnets and a skirt. Hey, don’t judge! it’s not every day you get to dress up for a concert! It was especially risque when you basically had your crotch aimed right at the ethereal beings in front of you. You tried to sit where you weren’t completely flashing them, but you looked really awkward doing it. You took a long, deep breath as you closed your eyes and then let your body take over once the song started.
Of course, it took an insane amount of concentration and willpower, but the more you got into it, the more confident you became. You knew you could do it as long as you imagined yourself just practicing regularly in your bedroom rather than in front of three of the most gorgeous men in the world that had probably already seen a full view of your panties at some point in the dance.
When the song was over, you stayed in formation until the three of them stood up and started applauding. You were dewy with sweat and your breathing was out of control, but you couldn’t help but feel partly proud of yourself and partly terrified of their critiques.
Hyunjin and Felix came to you on each side and hugged you tightly while slightly lifting you off the ground. You giggled as they hollered at you and Minho had his hands in his pockets in front of you with a smirk.
When they put you down, they kissed both sides of your cheeks in tandem and your soul felt like it had ascended to heaven. You looked at the two, completely gobsmacked, as they stood in front of you with bright smiles.
Hyunjin giggled. “That was amazing!”
“You really are an amazing dancer, noona!” Felix took your hand and squeezed it, which prompted Hyunjin to do the same with your other hand.
And, completely unexpectedly, Felix flashed an evil grin.
“Sooo, based on the video and this dance, I can only assume that Minho-hyung is your favorite among us?” The two in front of you looked back at the unassuming man that had sat back down.
You looked away when you felt all the blood rush to your face. The two cackled and Hyunjin said something in Korean to Minho. “Hey! Don’t tell him!”
“Too late, love. Like we said, he probably already knows what’s being said, anyway” The two boys released your hands and your face was mortified as you looked at Minho.
You were surprised to see that the tips of his ears were tinged in red and he had grabbed the wine bottle to fill up his cup once again. Hyunjin sounded patronizing when he rambled off something to Minho and the tallest received a threatening glare from the dance leader.
When you looked back at Felix, he looked like he was deep in thought. Then abruptly, it looked like a lightbulb went off in his head. “Hey, noona! Since you know hyung’s choreography to ‘Taste’, can Hyunjin and I dance it with you?!” Your heart dropped out of your ass, but by the look of the two boy’s pleading faces, you didn’t have it in you to refuse.
Again, you chuckled nervously. “I-I guess I can give it a shot…” They basically jumped for joy and Minho was already scrolling through his phone for the song. The other two got into position which prompted you to do the same as you calmed down your breathing and tried to not panic.
You heard the opening notes and it was a lot harder to concentrate when you knew they were dancing with you. Still, you did your best to represent the man you were performing for that had concentration written all over his features.
However, a little way into the song, you panicked.
Fuck. Shit. Fuck. Your move was supposed to have you splay your hand out over Hyunjin’s chest and waist but… there was no way in this goddamned universe that you could feel confident enough to touch him like that.
You didn’t want to overstep any boundaries, so you just hovered your hands over the correct areas. When you checked Minho’s expression, he had sat back against the cushions with his arms crossed and a cocked eyebrow.
Shit.
You could tell the others noticed too as the three of you continued to dance with their eyes bored into you.
Once the song ended, you were afraid to meet eyes with any of them. That was until you heard the velvety voice from the couch chime your name.
You snapped your head up to look at him, not expecting him to address you directly, and you realized he was walking right up to you. He spewed off something in Korean to the other two and then he gently grasped your hand. Holy fuck he’s touching me…
He guided you behind the two men that had lined up and you knew exactly what he was up to.
In the same dance formation, he grabbed your hand and wrapped it over the two men as he firmly pressed your full palm to Hyunjin’s chest, doing the same with your other hand on his abdomen. “Okay?” Minho said, still pressing your hands against the other’s chest.
You dumbly nodded and a tiny whimper escaped on your exhale. Your eyes bulged out as they all looked at you with raised eyebrows. “O-oh god, I’m so sorry!” You quickly pulled back your hands and held them over your mouth in humiliation.
“Don’t worry, love! Do you just feel uncomfortable touching us?” Felix said tentatively as if you would run away at the slightest movement.
“I… I… I just don’t feel like I should be allowed to…” You looked down with a nervous chuckle and clasped your hands together in front of you. Without any words, you saw two lithe hands grasp your own as they detangled them. You looked up to see Hyunjin standing in front of you as he pulled your hands up to his chest.
“You can touch me all you want, pretty girl.” Hyunjin winked seductively and your eyes popped out of their sockets for the umpteenth time that night. “Are you okay with this?” Again, you were completely numb as you nodded your head, all of your focus committed to the feeling of his warm chest through his shirt under your hands.
He hummed lowly as he slowly moved your hands to press against his abs. Your eyes peered back up to see his expression and he was biting his lip with black eyes staring down at you.
You unintentionally moved your hands back up to his chest and balled your fists in his shirt with a gasp when you felt Felix wrap his arm around your waist. “You can touch any of us, really…” You felt like a caged mouse when he propped his chin up on your shoulder and your inner thoughts conjured the lewdest thoughts. “I was wondering… what could Hyunnie and I do to convince you to change your bias?” The thickly accented whisper sent shivers down your spine.
You looked at Hyunjin who had a dangerous smile, and then Minho who looked at you with dark, hungry eyes. It was as if he was giving you a nonverbal warning. You couldn’t help but want to rile him up.
You had NO CLUE how to read this situation, they couldn’t possibly be…? No… not possible, get your damned head out of the gutter.
That assumption was quickly rectified when Hyunjin slowly smoothed his hands over your hips and pulled you flush to him. “What about this?” He whispered mere centimeters from your face. You probably looked terrified, but the way your body involuntarily arched into him made him cockily smirk.
You could feel Felix’s arm tighten around you and he whispered his hot breath in your ear. “Or this?” That was when you felt the warm, wet press of his lips against the back of your neck. You loudly gasped, still in front of Hyunjin’s face, but your eyes closed from the sensation. Felix was still right next to your ear, but his voice sounded worried. “Is this okay, love? We can have someone take you home if you feel uncomfortab–”
“No!” Your arms wrapped around Hyunjin’s neck instinctively and they squeezed you as they softly laughed at your reaction. You had looked around the two to see that Minho had returned to the couch and was watching the three of you with an unreadable expression while sipping his wine.
“Well, in that case, I think I could convince you a bit more, yeah?” Hyunjin displayed that same fucking tongue prodding at his lips while he smiled at your frozen form that was locked in his eye contact. You knew your heart was beating out of your chest when Hyunjin looked down at your moistened lips and started leaning down to your face.
Surely he’s not… is he? No fucking way.
He touched his lips down on yours and if it weren’t for their strong grip on you, you would have melted into the floor. He was kissing you. HWANG FUCKING HYUNJIN WAS KISSING YOU!!!
You were as still as a statue, but he urged you to kiss back. And who were you to deny him?
Your lips started hesitantly gliding against his hungry ones and your arms tightened around his neck. He groped your hips more firmly as he pulled you even tighter against him. You heard a click of a tongue somewhere in the room and when Hyunjin pulled back, his cocky smile landed on Minho who was glaring daggers at him from the couch.
You had no clue how to read the situation and, honestly, you were done trying to figure out these enigmatic men. Best to just go with the flow, right?
Before Hyunjin turned his attention back to you, your breath was stolen from you when Felix snatched you from his arms. Hyunjin whined and said something pouty in Korean, but Felix paid no attention to him. Instead, he guided you by your hips to sit on the sofa next to Minho.
You were shocked to see that he was almost as flustered as you were at the unexpected action, but you couldn’t look at him for long before Felix propped his knee up next to your leg and leaned over you to capture your lips. The kiss was a lot more sweet and gentle than Hyunjin’s had been.
That was until Felix made the first plunge to try and deepen the kiss with his tongue running over your lips. After you welcomed the intrusion, that sweet persona was nowhere to be found and you were blessed to see Lee Yongbok in his carnal form. His hands were cupping your jaw and he pressed your lips against his firmly with gnashing teeth and tongues.
When you finally remembered that there were two other people watching you, your lips froze. Felix pulled back to assess you, but then instantly wore a cocky smirk when he saw your blush and your wandering eyes over at the other two with your head hung low.
“What is it, love? Don’t like an audience, or do you not like any of this?” Felix tried to move to catch your eyes and catch them he did. You stared up at the man towering over you and you could see stars in his eyes. How could you say no to such a man? Well… men…
“I… I like this…” You couldn’t look him in the eye to admit it, instead, turning your head to look at the empty cups on the table. You knew your face was burning up and your attention was redirected as Hyunjin scrambled onto the other side of the couch to lean across Minho.
“Felix, it’s not fair for you to steal her like that!” Hyunjin basically completely ignored Minho’s protests when he scrambled across the elder’s lap to try and steal another kiss. Just as his lips touched down on your cheek, the man stumbled to the floor. “Ow! Hyuuung!” He whined.
Minho sat next to you, seemingly very proud of himself for thwarting Hyunjin’s advances, as he caught you staring at him. Your face burned and you bit your lip while looking down at your hands again. Felix stopped hovering over you so he could try and get the limp, overdramatic man off the ground.
When you looked up, you saw that Minho was still looking at you with an ‘I will murder you in your sleep’ type of expression and your eyes widened in fear and anticipation. Before the other boys had returned their attention to you, Minho deftly moved closer to your trembling body.
You could swear you were hyperventilating when the man leaned in close to tower over you as you slid down to cower against the cushions. His expression was ravenous and yet there was a hint of apprehension to it. It wasn’t long before you had backed all the way up to the arm of the couch and his arms caged your head in against the cushions you had fallen back onto.
However, before he actually even touched you, his eyes searched yours. His breath stuttered momentarily before he breathed out in a low voice. “Is this okay?”
Your breath hitched and you couldn’t think about anything but the man over you. His eyes were beautiful and lustful and his tongue peeked out to moisten his plump lips. He was so motherfucking beautiful you wanted to cry. What had you done to be blessed with such close proximity to a specimen such as him? Hell, even this whole situation in general was too good to be true!
You numbly nodded and then stupidly asked, “Is it okay with you?”
You wanted to slap yourself silly once he giggled down at you, but you quickly got over it when his strong hand reached up to your face and tucked your hair behind your ear. He pushed the hair off your neck when he lowered his face down to your ear. “Yes, jagiya.”
That’s it, you were done. How the hell was he not committing manslaughter by saying shit like that? Your breathing alone could kill you, not to mention your heart!
When you felt the warm, wet press of lips to your jaw, a completely inhuman noise came from your mouth. The universe was both against you and in your favor simultaneously. You heard a chuckle and the lips against your skin grinned at the embarrassing noise, and when Minho looked up at you, you decided that your embarrassment was worth it.
He looked like he wanted to eat you. But as he leaned in to finally press his lips to yours, Hyunjin tackled him, shoving the elder off of your melted body before you could even get a whisper of a touch of the eldest’s lips. Felix quickly swooped in and stole you from their wrestling.
He gently stood you up and dragged you away from them, taking your hand and leading you to the giant bed in the center of the room. He sat down on the plush duvet with your hand in his small ones as you stood in front of him. He bit his lip and almost looked shy for a half second, but soon a bright smile spread across his face and he let your hand go. Instead, he wrapped his arms around your waist to pull you between his parted legs.
While still sitting in front of you, he pressed up against you and nuzzled his face right up in your goddamned pubic bone.
At that point, you knew your panties were fucked.
He looked up at you when a shaky breath escaped your lips. His smile was blinding. “Do you mind if we play with you tonight, love?” He emphasized the word ‘play’ to let you know that he didn’t just mean any fucking Monopoly game or some shit. They wanted you.
His voice was sickly sweet and you gasped as you felt a pair of hands, seemingly Hyunjin’s hands, come in behind you to start rubbing up your abdomen to your bra line as he kissed his way down your neck to the collar of your sheer blouse, teasing the material with his teeth. They weren’t necessarily crossing any lines, not by any of your own standards anyway, but they made sure to not overwhelm you.
I mean, yeah, you were definitely overwhelmed, but in the best of ways. You were pretty sure they could fucking curbstomp you and you would thank them and ask for seconds.
“I…” God, why were you so timid? “I… I like playing…” You said before biting your lip and looking away with a cherry-red face.
When you turned away, you could have sworn you caught a glimpse of Minho ‘adjusting’ himself off to the side. Maybe you weren’t the only one desperate for touch…
The boys caging you in ended up regaining your attention when you felt the hands on your abdomen move to unbutton your shirt. You whimpered when you felt Hyunjin’s hands finally graze up your bare stomach and eventually cresting the curve of your breasts to grope over the material of your bra, his hot breath continuing to fan over the sensitive skin of your neck all the while.
Your upper body unintentionally leaned back into him as he continued his assault on your neck. However, Felix wouldn’t let you get far as he, too, had a strong grip on your hips, and your arms gravitated to rest on top of the blonde’s shoulders. You could feel his hands reach around to grope your ass and you just about went limp from their firm holds on you. You could just lay there all day and let them do whatever the fuck they wanted to.
You mewled when Felix lowered his head again, this time completely burying his face in between your legs as he nuzzled over your clothed core. That, plus Hyunjins rock hard dick pressing into your ass made you whine pathetically. You heard a chuckle from the couch and saw Minho leaning back on it again.
He laughed at your obvious desperation and you whined again. The boys that were torturing you maintained their stance, not moving any further and Minho bit his lip. You could definitely confirm he was palming himself now as he walked up to you and grabbed your chin with one hand.
“Yongbok-ah?” He murmured while never straying his eyes from yours. You felt the movement on your core stop and Minho, very slowly and deeply with his velvety voice said another sentence you couldn’t understand.
Felix spoke up with a chuckle and Minho kept his eyes locked on yours while the younger one translated. “Hyung said that Jinnie and I could try all we want, but he won’t let the night end until he has convinced you that you belong to only him.”
Your breath was shaky and you squealed when he moved in and you finally got to taste those beautiful, plump lips. His tongue tasted sweet from the wine and you groaned in ecstasy. You were in heaven and you refused to ever come down.
You were ripped from your brief bliss when Hyunjin took matters into his own hands and dragged you away by your waist. Before you knew it, Hyunjin had lifted you onto the bed and your head was laid comfortably on the plush pillows.
Hyunjin had the devil’s laugh on his face as he crawled up to hover over you. “Just relax, angel. I’ll show you who you really want.” Hyunjin’s playful smile was replaced with hunger and he tentatively grasped the remaining unbuttoned part of your shirt, hinting at a question. You immediately sat up and took it the rest of the way off.
Once you were back down, his lips eagerly attacked the swell of your breast as his hands fumbled behind you to remove your mesh bra. When he finally deciphered the way to unlatch it, you moaned when he latched his mouth onto your nipple, lithe fingers playing with the other.
While he had his head down, you saw Felix walk over from where he and Minho had moved to stand at the foot of the bed. His eyes were glued to your breasts and the man devouring them until he reached the head of the bed where you were looking up at him with heavy lids and a lustful moan on the tip of your tongue.
He caressed your cheek and smiled at you when you whined from his thumb running over your bottom lip. “So sweet…” He propped his hand up by your head as he bent over to lazily kiss you, the action getting more and more needy with each passing second. You felt Felix’s small hand replace Hyunjin’s on the breast that he wasn’t sucking the life out of and he squeezed it in earnest.
You cried out when Felix moved down as well and then you had a pair of lips on both of your breasts. You scrunched your eyes from the intense arousal you were feeling, and when you opened them again, Minho was looking straight into your eyes with crossed arms and a raised brow that almost seemed like he was challenging you.
God, you were so gone.
You gasped when you felt a hand glide up your inner thigh and under your skirt to cup over your clothed mound and start palming it, bringing sweet pressure to where you were aching profusely. Hyunjin then raised his head to yours and breathed against your lips when he brought his hand back up and thumbed at the waistband of your skirt. “Is this okay, noona?”
You nodded your head frantically, breath obviously picking up, and he quickly followed through, hastily sliding his slim fingers under the waistband of the offending clothing and shucking them, your fishnet tights, and your lace panties off of you. You felt red all over from the fact that you were stripped down completely naked for these three men that hadn’t even removed a shred of clothing.
Feeling a bit self-conscious, especially because Felix also relented his attack and they all three were gawking at you, you squeezed your legs shut and involuntarily crossed an arm over your breasts and the other over your stomach. You wanted to keep going, you just wished they wouldn’t just stand there and stare.
“Hey, hey, I’m sorry, noona.” The ray of sunshine noticed your discomfort and gently caressed your bare thigh. “You are just so beautiful, we can’t help but stare. Are you still alright?” It warmed your heart that Felix was still focused on your comfort after all of this and you gave him a shy smile when you nodded. He had to bite back his giddy grin and he quickly removed his shirt, Hyunjin received the hint and did the same right after.
And holy hell. It was just so unfair to be that insanely gorgeous.
Hyunjin lowered himself back down over you with a cocky grin. “Now who’s staring?”
Your face burst into flames and you looked away with a small “S-sorry”. He just chuckled and grabbed your chin to look back at him. “I didn’t say I minded. You can look all you want.” He licked his lips hungrily. “You can touch too…” He said as he grabbed your hand to glide over his naked abdomen. His voice turned to a whisper in your ear. “...anywhere you want…” His hand dragged your own down the length of his stomach and then splayed your palm out over the crotch of his pants to feel his prominent bulge.
OH. MY. GOD.
“You did this to me, noona…” He whispered again, pressing your palm against his tumescence more firmly to reiterate. You gasped in response and kept your hand there when he slowly released you. “Do you want to help me take care of it?” His low voice, his hooded eyes, his everything was dripping in the personification of sex and you tentatively pressed your palm against him again and he groaned into your neck. “Fuck… that’s it…”
His hand landed on your upper thigh and you started hyperventilating. That was until Felix captured your mouth again in another powerful kiss and distracted you from your obvious panic. However, your mouth gaped open against his as you emitted a loud moan when Hyunjin’s fingers found your clit.
“Oh fuck, noona… You’re so wet for us, baby…” You could hear Hyunjin’s voice drift down your body as you continued to tangle tongues with the youngest of the three. This boy has been working on his English dirty talk, hasn’t he? However, you unintentionally unlatched yourself and threw your head back with a loud moan when you felt Hyunjin’s warm mouth close around your clit and start sucking.
Felix elected to focus his efforts elsewhere as well and he properly climbed onto the bed next to you as he returned his mouth to your nipples. You were whining and writhing beneath the ministrations of the both of them and they both firmly gripped your hips still.
You quickly realized that your eyes had fluttered shut in the heat of the moment and you snapped them open again, not wanting to miss a single moment of this batshit crazy experience.
However, when you opened your eyes, you immediately latched them onto the man at the end of the bed. Minho had the most predatory glare on his face and he didn’t even try to hide the fact that he was palming himself while looking at you. You bit your lip and whimpered when he finally dipped his hand under the waistband of his sweatpants and let his jaw slightly fall open as he worked himself up.
Abruptly, without warning, you half groaned, half whined when you felt Hyunjin’s long, lithe finger slip into you and you couldn’t control it when your hips bucked up into his face. He chuckled against your core and then raised his smiling and slick wet face to look at you. “Does that feel good, baby?”
You couldn’t speak, you just nodded your head frantically.
You shrieked when Felix nipped your swollen nipple and soothed it with his tongue when he looked back up at you. “Jinnie asked you a question, love. Be a good girl and answer him, yeah?”
“Yes! Oh my god, yes…” Your voice was wistful and fucked out as your hips kept moving on their own accord.
“These fingers are nothing compared to what I have in store for you…” Hyunjin looked at your body with hungry eyes as he wet his lips. “But, first, I wanna see how much I can make you fall apart…”
And without further ado, he plunged down into your cunt again with vigor as Felix reattached himself to your lips and his hands gained purchase on your breasts. His tongue snaked its way into your mouth while Hyunjin’s sneaked its way into your folds. Your breathing was erratic, and your kiss with Felix turned into more of a breathy moan against his lips.
Eventually, Felix’s kisses moved their way down to your neck and then back to your nipples. He apparently was really fixated on them that night. You looked back up to see that all the while Minho was unabashedly getting closer, having his hand moving at a slow, steady pace inside his pants.
One of your lifeless hands was suddenly being gently maneuvered by Felix to press your palm against the tent in his sweats and you gasped at the heat that emitted from his bulge. A random bout of courage was pulled out of your lust-ridden brain and you used both hands to clumsily untie his waistband, resulting in the man sitting up to stare at you in wonder. You looked up at him with pleading eyes in a silent request for their removal, pulling at both his pants and his underwear.
All he responded with was a blinding smile and chaste kiss to your lips before scrambling off the bed to remove said items. And, man, that lean boy did not disappoint…
However, in the process of doing that, Hyunjin advanced his efforts tenfold and you started to feel your core start to snap. One of your hands flew to tangle in his soft locks as you pulled him ever closer to you in an attempt to chase your high. He definitely knew what he was doing. One last flick of his tongue and a particularly delicious press of his fingers against your g-spot had you seeing stars as you came all over Hwang Hyunjin’s face.
Your head was thrown back in a silent cry (no pun intended) as he led you through your orgasm with lazy pumps of his fingers and when he retreated and you came back to reality, you wanted to crawl in a hole and die from embarrassment.
All three men were breathing heavily with blown-out eyes as they stared at you in awe of your orgasm. You didn’t have much time to soothe the reddening of your face because Felix abruptly jumped on top of you and devoured your lips. The fact that this gorgeous creature was completely butt-ass-naked on top of you with his leaking cock pressed up against your hip was making you dizzy and your hands moved on their own when you realized that you wanted nothing more than to feel him.
His mouth groaned against yours when you pressed your cupped palm over his erection and you whimpered at the feeling. You took the plunge and gently wrapped your fingers around him and started pumping your fist. Felix detached himself from your lips and slumped his forehead against yours as his heavy breathing stuttered.
“Fuck, love. You’re doing so good for us…” He choked out and pecked your cheek as he leaned in to whisper against your ear. “How would you like to feel us inside of you?” You felt the sinful words seep into your skin and mingle with every nerve ending in your body. The shiver of your body was beyond involuntary and a shuttered breath escaped your lips.
He sat up to look you in the eyes directly, taking the hand that you had wrapped around his dick, and started moving it for you when it unintentionally froze from the proposition. “I-I… Y-you…” Felix cut off your rambling with another chaste kiss to your lips.
“If you would rather stop here, we can…” He sounded a bit sullen with each word, and it warmed your heart that he wanted to make sure you were still comfortable.
Just as he started to pull away, you wrapped your free arm around his neck and pulled him into a bruising kiss, your other hand continuing to jerk him off slowly. “G-god, Felix. This is a fucking dream…” You mumbled against his lips.
You could feel the bright smile of his against your lips and he broke away to inquire again. “Is that a yes?” He said with a hopeful smile.
Your eyes surely had stars in them as you looked up at his glowing features. You meekly nodded and your voice sounded more like a whine when you quietly whimpered a short, “Please…”
With that said, he jovially leaped off of you and you grumbled your disappointment and sat up to watch the three men hover around a duffle bag. You shouldn’t have been surprised to see the three of them turn back to you with a condom in each of their hands, all of them looking at you as if they were famished and you were their buffet.
“Um… Felix?”
Said boy tilted his head in query. “What is it, love?”
You could feel the heat rise in your cheeks as you shyly looked down at the sheets clenched between your fingers. “I don’t know if this changes anything for you, but…” You chanced a glance up at his beautiful face that had confusion written all over his features. “I… I have a birth control implant… and I’m clean… so you don’t really need…” You fixed your eyes on the prophylactic in his hand. “...you know…” You were suddenly too shy to say it outright.
Said item was instantly dropped to the floor as he stared at you in shock. The other two looked panicked and stepped up to him, immediately questioning what your words meant. After he numbly translated, the other two men’s faces comically morphed to match their Australian member’s expression.
You panicked. “But I don’t mind either way! I totally understand if you still want to use precautions and all–” Before you could mutter another syllable, he was on you in an instant, silencing you with his lips.
“Fuck, love. There’s no way we deserve you.” He kissed you again and sat up to cup your cheeks and intensely look you in the eyes. “Are you absolutely sure about this?” Relieved, you smiled at the beautiful man.
“Absolutely.” And with that, Hyunjin joined Felix as he, too, pounced on you like a predator.
Minho, who still had all of his clothes on, just continued to watch as the other two caged you in. “How do you want to do this, baby? Who do you want first? Or do you want both?” Hyunjin had a mischievous smile as he slowly removed his pants and boxers as well and gave your body a sinful once-over. Your eyes bulged out of your head at the sight of him.
You suddenly felt incredibly small under their gaze and beautiful naked bodies. “U-um… I don’t mind either way… I just want to be here for all of you. You can have me however you want…” Your words were bold but your voice was meek and their hungry gazes went gentle.
“Such a sweet baby…” Hyunjin said as they hovered over you and slowly kissed their way down from your jaw to your neck on each side. You wanted to touch them so badly.
With a sudden bout of courage, you tentatively took their cocks in each hand from where they hovered at your sides and put in all of your effort to try and please them. They let out a surprise groan and Hyunjin muttered something to Felix in Korean, immediately scooting over so Felix could position himself between your legs.
Hyunjin stepped back, relinquishing your grasp on his dick and you quivered at the man on top of you that was staring into your soul. Felix had already replaced your hand on his cock and you arched your back when he ran the tip through your folds and over your clit.
You had achieved a core memory from the feeling of his burning hot touch.
“You sure about this, love?” He searched your eyes once more and you had decided your patience had run out. You grabbed the back of his head and crushed his lips to your own, followed by a breathy whisper against his lips.
“Please, Felix… I want you so bad…” Your whimpered words earned a grin on the boy’s angelic face and you slowly felt him stretch you open as he entered you.
Your jaw dropped as you groaned against his lips and he kissed you again, minutely stifling the noises that were so very desperate to escape your mouth from the feeling of his slow intrusion. It had been so long since you’d had sex that you forgot how overwhelming the first push was.
Once he was fully sheathed inside you, he pulled back to look at your face only to find a slack jaw and scrunched-up eyes. You felt the presence of Hyunjin on your right, slowly shushing your whimpers as he tried to distract you with wet kisses along your jaw and neck. “Shhh, you’re doing great, baby girl. Taking our Yongbokkie so well.” He briefly turned to Felix. “How does she feel, Lixie-ah?”
Felix groaned and dropped his forehead to meet yours and you finally pried your eyes back open so you could take in the proximity of his angelic face. “She feels amazing Jinnie…” Felix moaned loudly when you clenched around him and he used the hand that he wasn’t using to hold himself above you to reach down and lift your left leg higher, letting himself push deeper. “I’m not sure how long I’ll last.”
You watched as Felix lifted his head to watch Hyunjin reach down and play with your clit, and they both locked eyes with you when you whined at the sensitivity. Hyunjin smirked playfully and looked back at Felix. The freckled man’s face, which was once holding burning embers, was now looking up at Hyunjin with heart eyes as he towered over the both of you.
“You gonna get her all wet and ready for me Lix?” Hyunjin asked the younger boy with a smoldering grin, never relenting in the slow torture of his fingers on your clit. Felix nodded frantically and, just like that, he turned back to you with a cocky grin.
“Does it hurt? Can I move, sweet thing?” He lowered his lips back down to your jaw and placed a chaste kiss there while waiting for your answer.
“God, please.” You sighed wistfully.
That was all the incentive he needed to pull all the way back to the tip, and then slam all the way back to your cervix with full force. You cried out in pleasure and he set a brutal pace, Hyunjin’s fingers finally leaving your swollen bundle of nerves to start playing with your nipples and return his lips to your neck. There was no doubt going to be a mess of hickeys all over your body and you trembled at the thought.
With the boys attacking both sides of your neck, you were, again, faced with the man at the end of the bed. He tilted his head and raised his eyebrow at you again to challenge or mock you, you weren’t quite sure which… maybe both. However, with the way he palmed his bulge over his pants, and seeing how the tips of his ears were bright red, he was definitely excited for more.
You were so gone for these men that you wanted to really chalk it up for them. With Felix still pounding into you, you slowly rolled your tongue over your bottom lip before biting down on it and throwing your eyes and head back with the most pornographic moan you could muster.
When you raised your head again, all three men were staring down at you with shock written on their faces. You couldn’t let the embarrassment sink in long, however, because your action brought Felix to his climax.
The sight of Lee Felix’s face during orgasm was like being shot in the heart with a poison that spread heat throughout your every nerve ending. There was no describing it. You could feel the force of his cum shoot deep inside you and you felt dizzy as he rode himself through it.
“Holy hell, love…” He dropped down to kiss you messily. “You’re a goddamned dream…” He leaned back and looked at your sweating and panting form and offered the sweetest of smiles. However, Hyunjin interjected with a slap on Felix’s ass and everyone breathily chuckled at the yelp that escaped his mouth. “Yah!”
“Don’t be a hog, Lixie-ah!” He looked back at you while still talking to Felix. “I’ve been dying to rearrange her insides…” He poked that damned tongue out the side of his mouth and ran his eyes up and down your frame, making you shiver from the intensity.
You winced when Felix’s softening cock was pulled out of you and he retreated from between your legs but gasped when Hyunjin took his place and grabbed both of your ankles. He smiled sinfully at you and propped your legs up on his shoulders as he lined up with you.
Hyunjin was definitely longer than Felix because as he breached your entrance and your breathing picked up again from the delicious feeling of him sliding through your walls, pushing Felix’s seed even deeper inside you, you choked on air when he kept pushing further against your cervix until you felt honest-to-god tears run down your cheeks. He froze just before he was completely flush with you and he looked panicked.
“W-wha– did I– are you o-okay?” He momentarily struggled with his English as he stuttered the words and you quickly wrapped your arms and legs around him when you felt him try to pull out.
“N-no! I’m okay! Gwenchana! Gwenchana!” You put your hand over your mouth at your outburst and giggled at yourself, thankfully making the other men relax as well. “I-I think you might just be too… ahem…” Why were you so shy?
He sweetly smiled and leaned down to kiss you, seemingly understanding your meek words. “Do you want to lead then?”
You really didn’t know what you wanted, but if he kept going at that rate, he might really rearrange your insides. Your shy nod brought an endeared smile to his face and, before you could even prepare yourself, he quickly pulled out and tumbled backward to lay on his back, pulling you on top of him to face the foot of the bed. You gasped and briefly saw Felix and Minho mumbling something off to the side with Minho responding with a cute giggle.
You looked down at Hyunjin who was devouring you with his eyes and running his hands up and down your hips and thighs. “I like seeing you on top of me, baby.” You bit your lip and sprung into action, lifting your hips and grabbing his cock to line him up. Your eyes were glued to his gorgeous face when you slowly lowered yourself down on him and saw his long lashes flutter in euphoria.
There was no getting over how unreal this was. You felt dizzy as every inch of him dragged across your sensitive walls and you slightly jerked your hips up when his tip pushed against your bruised cervix. His face screwed shut as he seemed to try and hold back from fucking up into you.
Honestly, some twisted part of you wanted him to.
When you wiggled your hips back down, you took deep breaths and ground against him until the pleasure started to weigh out the pain. When his hips accidentally twitched up into you, you let out a strangled cry and Hyunjin reached up to cup your face in his hands.
“I’m sorry baby. You just feel so good…”
You naturally leaned down until your lips collided again and all you could respond with was a small ‘more’ mumbled against his lips. His eyes flew open and you planted your hands on each of his pecs, silently pleading with your eyes as you continued to grind against him.
That was when his eyes turned dark and his fingers dug into your hips and ass with bruising force. The powerful thrust that followed had you seeing stars.
He had planted his feet onto the bed and started fucking up into you at a brutal pace, muttering both English and Korean expletives under his breath as his hands moved their grasp to fondle your bouncing breasts. That was when you felt Felix’s presence return and start kissing down your neck to meet one of the nipples that Hyunjin’s fingers were teasing.
You whined loudly and threw your head back when Hyunjin harshly pinched the nipple to allow Felix’s tongue to suck and flick the sensitive bud. You returned your hooded eyes to the men when you felt your breasts being released. The following sight made you want to scream.
Hyunjin had grabbed Felix’s jaw and they stared directly into each other’s eyes when Hyunjin forced two of his fingers into Felix’s mouth. The younger man fluttered his eyes and moaned around the digits, sucking and licking around them enthusiastically.
When Hyunjin finally pulled his fingers away, he and Felix continued to stare at each other for a moment, seemingly frozen in time. You whined when Hyunjin slowed down his hips, and that seemed to knock them out of their trance.
Hyunjin regained his cocky demeanor and lowered his spit-slick fingers down to your clit. One particular thrust sprung tears to your eyes, and you cried out when his fingers started circling around your bliss button. You were far too close to climax and both of the men knew it.
After some strangled mumbling from Hyunjin’s mouth, words completely foreign to you, Felix swiftly stood up on the bed and stood his legs on each side of Hyunjin’s torso. His newly awakened erection stood proud in front of your face and you wasted no time wrapping your lips around it and humming at the taste of your own lingering juices on his skin.
The beautiful man sighed in pleasure and tangled his fingers in your hair, his practiced muscles keeping him balanced as Hyunjin continued to pound into you. You worked your mouth and tongue with gusto and once you wrapped your hands around his length as well, you knew you could get him to cum in no time.
“F-fuck… how are you so fucking *ngh* good at this?” Felix muttered in the deepest voice you’ve ever heard and it made you tighten your pussy around Hyunjin’s cock, earning a beautiful moan from his plump lips. “S-shit, love– I’m cummin’...” Felix tried to pull away, but you just wrapped your arms around him to grab his perky ass and pull him further into the tight ring of your esophagus.
You looked up as you felt the first spurts of cum hit your throat, and you were once again blessed with the beautiful sight of Lee Felix’s face of ecstasy. He heaved for a moment once he was done riding out his high and pulled out of your abused mouth. He looked like he was in a trance when he looked down at you and cupped your jaw. However, when you took a big gulp of the cum swimming around in your mouth, his whole demeanor changed.
Felix lowered himself back down to you as he sat to the side of Hyunjin again, a dangerous smile forming on his angelic face as he closed in on your ear, lightly grazing his teeth over the shell of it. “Tell us what you want, love. I know there is something going on in that pretty head of yours…”
He continued kissing and sucking his way down your neck as he waited for a response. There was no way in hell you would be able to voice what you had been fantasizing about.
However, the longer that you were silent, the more aggressive Felix became.
Almost as if it was planned, Felix harshly bit your shoulder as Hyunjin grabbed your hips and slammed you down on his cock. The few tears that you were holding back sprang from your eyes now and Hyunjin growled at you. “Felix asked you a question, baby girl. I think you’d better answer it.”
You looked up to Minho with pleading eyes, and all he did was raise an eyebrow at you condescendingly. You whimpered in defeat and lowered your head, not being able to look at any of them in the eyes as the words left your mouth.
“Lixie…?” Said man leaned back to await your response. “C-can you…” Gosh, you were so embarrassed, how would you be able to get the words out?
Your body naturally ground down on Hyunjin due to loss of stimulation, and he landed a powerful slap on your ass because of it, immediately returning his hands to their vice grip on your hips to keep them still.
You whined pathetically and looked between the two boys whose hands were currently rubbing and groping your body simultaneously. You returned your vision to your own hands which were fidgeting against Hyunjin’s chest and took a deep breath.
“Can you… like… kiss Hyunjin’s neck or something?”
You started getting anxious when you didn’t hear a response and you looked up to gauge their reactions. You saw their shocked faces for half a second until Felix grabbed your face and kissed your lips passionately.
“God, you’re a fucking dream.” Felix whispered against your lips and then he immediately turned around to bury his face in the other man’s neck.
Hyunjin immediately groaned while exposing his neck for further access for the Australian boy, and you whimpered a quiet ‘yesss’ when Hyunjin slammed you down on his cock as far as you could go, repeating the action with dizzying force.
Felix did everything you could’ve hoped for and more. He devoured the other man’s slim neck, while running his hands up and down the length of his torso, ending the journey of his fingers on one of the older man’s nipples.
Hyunjin grunted and built up his pace again, meeting you halfway as you bounced up and down on his throbbing cock. The three of you had a thick sheen of sweat on you and your eyes were glued to the two beautiful men under you.
You just about started to protest when Felix pulled his head away from the patch of skin he was attacking, but what he did next made all the words instantly die on your tongue.
He grabbed Hyunjin’s face with both hands and immediately locked their lips together, tongues soon intertwining in a practiced dance. Your eyes were glued to them so intently, that you didn’t even notice Minho climbing on the bed to press up against your back.
You gasped when you felt him against you with his rock-hard cock pressing between your ass cheeks through his pants. The ghosting of his breath against your neck leading up to your ear made you shiver. “What a dirty girl you are.” You felt him smile against your jaw and instead of kissing the patch of skin as you had anticipated, you felt his hands wrap around you and pinch your nipples hard.
That is what sent you over the edge and your climax came crashing down like waves rolling over you. The two men separated when they heard you scream out in pleasure from your lingering high so they could watch as you worked through your orgasm. You could feel Hyunjin’s legs shake beneath you as he pistoned up into you violently and you knew he was close as well.
Hyunjin growled something you couldn’t translate and his hips stuttered with shallow thrusts as he emptied inside you. The wet lips of the eldest that ran up and down your neck and shoulder kept prolonging your orgasm and you twisted your head around so you could curl your fingers in his hair and pull him in for a sloppy kiss. You could hear a low growl in the back of his throat and it kept you clenching around Hyunjin’s spent dick.
Hyunjin’s whole body went limp after a few more thrusts and you detached your lips from Minho to pull yourself off of Hyunjin’s twitching dick to collapse between him and Felix. The men smiled at you fondly as they gently ran their fingers up and down the smooth skin of your abdomen and a wave of exhaustion crashed over you. Your eyes were closed and you were panting heavily, trying to get ahold of your bearings.
You took a moment to collect yourself behind your closed lids, however, your eyes flew open when you felt a gentle hand nudge your arm.
What the fuck?
You found yourself tucked snugly underneath the fluffy comforter of the huge bed with only a single light on in the corner of the otherwise dark room. You shifted slightly and realized you were still naked, but you could tell they had cleaned you up before tucking you in. Your eyes followed up to the owner of the gentle hand on your shoulder to be met with a shy-looking Lee Know offering you a bottle of much-needed water. You looked around the rest of the room and found that Felix and Hyunjin were nowhere to be found.
How the fuck did I fall asleep so fast?
You shimmied your way up into a sitting position against the headboard, nodding your head with a small “thank you” in Korean as you gratefully accepted his offering. You guzzled down the water as if you had never tasted anything so delectable in your entire life. Once you finished, he took the empty container from you. “More?” He asked with an adorable head tilt.
You internally swooned and you were sure you looked as dazed as you felt as you looked at the ethereal man. “Please…” You mumbled, eyes completely lost within his own.
He smirked (because of course he knew the effect he had on you) and stood to go retrieve another bottle from the mini-fridge.
Once you had repeated your assault on the second bottle and rejected his offer for another, he sat down next to you on the bed and hesitantly took your hand in his. “How are you feeling?” He shyly asked as he played with your fingers.
As if you weren’t already gone enough for the man, this small considerate question had you even more hopeless than before.
You knew he knew basic English, so you decided to reply simply. “Good, thank you…” You couldn’t stop the bashful smile that bloomed on your face and the crooked smile he gave in return was too much for your eyes (and heart) to handle.
“Hyunjin-ah and Yongbokkie went to bed… um…” He looked up in thought as if he was trying to think of how to say what he wanted in English. “They said they will, um, see you… in morning-time?” He stated the words like a question as if he wasn’t sure if he was conveying the words correctly, you just nodded in understanding. “Are you okay to stay with me tonight?”
You felt electricity shoot up your spine. Who in their right mind would ever deny that kind of invitation? You probably seemed a bit too over-eager as you nodded your head profusely with an immediate “yes!”
He let out the cutest of giggles and hesitantly brought his hand up to brush some of your (surely sex-crazed) hair out of your face. He let his hand linger there as his eyes flickered between both of your own. He muttered a small “cute” in Korean (an easy enough word to translate) and moved to cup your rosy cheek.
“Minho?” He looked startled as you suddenly addressed him by name. You at least knew enough Korean to mutter a small question. “Will you kiss me?” He was definitely caught off guard by your question. His face flushed momentarily, but then he quickly crashed his lips into yours, moving his hands to pull you in by the back of your neck.
You sighed into the kiss and he hummed in response. His tongue tentatively snaked into your mouth and you couldn’t help but think of the duality from his earlier demeanor to the gentle and careful man you were swapping spit with now.
However, that thought was short-lived as his kisses got more and more hungry, his hands gravitating down your back and hips to firmly grope your ass. There was no way you could control the small moan that escaped your mouth as you felt him spread your bare ass cheeks just to release them so they would bounce back to their original place where you were sitting.
You felt the edges of his lips tilt upwards and your body naturally gravitated up on your knees so you could get even closer to him. He then took it upon himself to lift your bare body up by your ass to straddle his seated form.
Your whole body was sore and you were pretty sure you were cramping from your abused cervix, but you had absolutely zero complaints as you pressed up against the man you had longed for for the longest time. Never did you imagine that you would ever be blessed enough to meet this man, let alone to be in this position on top of him.
You pulled away from the kiss so you could, once again, take in the sight of the god-like-looking man beneath you. His two blown-out orbs stared back at you and you ran your fingers through his silky locks. Your breath hitched in your throat before your raspy voice spoke the words. “I want you, Minho…”
He could barely contain his smile when he quirked his brow. “Oh yeah? Then who do you belong to?” Your eyes widened at his confident English and you bit your lip, eyes drifting up and down his gorgeous body.
“Y-you…” You could feel your rosy cheeks burn furiously.
The hands he was groping your ass with pulled you suffocatingly closer. “Anyone else?” You saw the possessiveness in his eyes and you couldn’t help but feel a bit prideful from it.
“Only you, Minho. Always you…” Before you could even take your next breath, the man had flipped you over to lay your back against the silky sheets once again, his predatory face inches from your own.
You expected him to be harsh and rough you up a bit, but he surprised you. He looked into your eyes with wonder written on his features. “You’re so beautiful, noona…” He said as he stared you down. You felt a shutter wrack your body, but your mind was lost in his eyes.
You could only respond with a wistful sigh and he eventually lowered his head to bury in the crook of your neck. The wet heat of his lips against your pulse made you melt into the sheets and you moaned when he fixed himself between your legs, pressing his clothed erection against your wet clit.
His hands gently grabbed your arms and slowly raised them above your head, his fingers gliding up your skin to eventually grasp your hands as he ground against you. His lips trailed down your chest to your breast so he could suck one of your abused nipples into his mouth.
When you mewled, he propped himself up on his knees so he could rid himself of his shirt and your eyes widened as your hands moved unbidden to glide over the toned skin of his abdomen. He studied your face as your fingers explored his chest, gliding all the way down to the waistband of his sweatpants. You licked your lips at the delectable sight of his raging boner and your fingers played with the edge of the fabric, your gaze drifting back up to meet his smoldering eyes.
He took it upon himself to stand and remove both his pants and boxers and holy shit… how was his dick drop-dead gorgeous too?! The man eagerly returned to his spot between your legs only, this time, it was his face hovering over your cunt. He gently raised his hands to lightly flick your nipples, making you squeak and then moved his feather-light touch down your body to finally gain purchase on the back of your knees.
Your breathing started to pick up when he hoisted your thighs over his shoulders so you could feel his hot breath fan over your sensitive labia. His eyes, which had been fixated on yours the entire time, finally drifted down to stare at your glistening folds and he closed his eyes in bliss when he finally sucked them into his mouth and moved his tongue through them to find your throbbing clit.
You wanted to cry it felt so good. You didn’t know if he was just a god at eating pussy or if it was just the fact that it was him doing it that brought you to the edge so quickly, but the sensation overwhelmed you too much to think about it. You cried his name over and over again and when he finally snaked his tongue inside you, you grabbed his hair and wailed.
“Oh my god, Minho! Yes! Fuck– holy sh– ngh! Yesyesyes right there! Fff–” You looked down at the gorgeous face in between your legs and you could see a smile in his eyes as you came all over his face. “Ah– Ahhhhh!” You had never had an orgasm so intense and you wanted to reward him for it.
When you finally came down from your high, you pulled him off of you and moved him to stand. He looked confused as you maneuvered him, but quickly changed his demeanor when you took his cock in your hand and swallowed him in one go, making him choke on his own breath. “H-holy fuck–” He gasped.
He was too big to deep throat, but you used all the tricks in the book to give him the best head he has ever had and by the way he was responding, you assumed you were succeeding. He was groaning and kept switching from throwing his head back in ecstasy and looking down at you with fire in his eyes. His jaw was clenched and he was definitely holding back from just full-on fucking your face.
Part of you wanted him to. You wanted him to absolutely wreck your throat until you couldn’t speak anymore, but your aching pussy overpowered that desire. You needed him buried inside you right fucking now.
He puffed out a huge breath that he had apparently been holding when you pulled off of him with a *pop* and crawled backward to spread your legs invitingly. He wasted no time in pouncing on top of you to assault your lips and you whimpered against his mouth when you felt him tease the tip of his penis between your folds.
You whined against his lips. “M-Minho… p-please I need you so badly… please…” He smiled devilishly.
“Fuck, jagiya. You’re perfect…” He used the hand that wasn’t being used to hold himself above you and grabbed you by the jaw to look straight into his hooded eyes. Your pupils were surely blown out and your eyes were gaping as he slowly pushed his way inside you. The stretch was somewhat painful with how thick he was, but the pleasure weighed out the pain once he reached your beaten-up cervix.
“F-fuck, Min…” Your hands scrambled to hold onto something to keep you grounded and one ended up digging into his back and the other grabbed onto his hair, making him groan.
“Gwenchana?” His eyes had squeezed shut in euphoria and you’re sure he didn’t even realize he had switched back to Korean.
You whispered back against his lips, unable to speak any louder. “Gwenchana…” You reassured.
He opened his eyes and for the first time that night, you saw him smile at you with the fondest grin you had ever seen from the man. The drag against your walls was delicious as he pulled back and the both of you cried out into each other’s mouths when he thrust back into you.
A single tear fell from your eye from the overwhelming pleasure and he sweetly ran his thumb over it to wipe it away. He gave you one last gentle kiss before he pulled back out to the tip again and then slammed into you full force. You threw your head back as you cried out and his lips latched onto your neck as he changed his pace to pummel into you at a dizzying rate.
Your body bounced back and forth against the soft sheets and his name fell from your mouth in a non-stop mantra. He, once again, took one of your legs and folded it to throw over his shoulder so he could bury himself even deeper into your cunt, if that was even possible.
Everything about him was perfect and you couldn’t stop the tears that ran down the sides of your face from the amount of pure euphoria you felt in that moment. His lips covered every inch of your clavicle in dark marks and you surprisingly found his possessiveness as a turn-on.
You whimpered, moaned, and cried out your ecstasy and he bored his eyes into your own all the while. “Fuck, noona… you feel so good… so tight and wet for me…” He leaned down to groan against your lips.
You whined in response, once again surprised by his confident English. “For you, Lino. All for you…” That statement made something inside him snap and he growled right before he pistoned into you full force and dropped his forehead to rest on your shoulder, moving a strong hand to furiously rub your clit all the while.
You basically screamed out his name as your orgasm reached its full peak and your walls squeezed him impossibly tight. His teeth clamped down onto your shoulder to muffle his cry of pleasure and he came so hard you could almost taste it.
He pumped both of you through your orgasms as his mouth moved to mesh with your own, sucking, biting, and licking each other's lips lazily. Once he slowly halted to a stop and relinquished his assault on your mouth, he stood up and languidly walked to the bathroom. You heard running water and then saw the naked Adonis return with a suppressed smile.
He held out a hand and, without question or hesitation, you took it. You yelped when you were suddenly lifted into his arms and carried to the source of the running water, soon after, being lowered into a luxurious bathtub with the scent of essential oils washing over your senses. He quickly climbed in behind you and the feeling of yourself laid back against the naked body of Lee Minho in the blissful heat of a five-star bathtub soothing your aching muscles was almost orgasmic.
“How do you feel?” Minho wrapped his arms around you and whispered against your ear right before he started peppering kisses along your neck.
You turned your head to capture his lips with your own. “I feel like I’m in heaven.” You responded with a smile against his lips. He returned your smile and slightly pulled back to look into your eyes.
“I’m excited for you to meet the other members tomorrow.” His eyes shined brightly, proud of his confident English, but you could still detect the danger in them. “But remember…” He squeezed you with the arms he had wrapped around your midriff. “You’re mine.”
You giggled and pressed another kiss to his lips. “Hmmm…” A sly remark passed through your head. “I think I might need some more convincing.” You said teasingly.
“Oh really?” You saw an evil glint gloss over his eyes and you jumped when you felt the man pinch your clit. “Want more?” You could already feel him sporting a semi against your ass and you were amazed by his stamina.
You quickly turned around to straddle the man and he held you by your hips as you wrapped your arms around him. “Absolutely.”
__________________________________________
If you've made it this far, thank you so much for reading! Sorry if you weren't expecting it, but, in the end, Lee Know always ends up being a top priority for me. 😆
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2chopsticks2eyes - Masterlist
#lee know x female reader#hyunjin x female reader#felix x female reader#hyunjin x felix#lee know smut#hyunjin smut#felix smut#stray kids smut#stray kids imagines#kpop smut#skz smut#skz imagines#shameless smut#skz danceracha#danceracha x reader
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The Stone Prince - Prt 3
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Well, wouldja lookie here. An update!
I meant for this to post before I moved, but life got in the way. So here it is now to hopefully tide y'all over before The Flame's Desire Update. Hopefully I can get The Colosseum Updated as well!
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It wasn’t a prank. No matter how much Lucy begged for it to be.
What started as a raise to Lucy’s ire and disbelief soon derailed to utter bafflement with begrudging yet confused acceptance not far behind. The constant assurance from the others claiming that a practical joke to the degree of hiring a man feigning to be stone for a day was ludicrous. She knew it, of course, but was still desperately grasping at straws to explain the unexplainable. To have anything make the slightest inkling of sense. Only a day later, she caved to reality, not finding any logic behind her earlier assumptions.
The impossible had happened.
A stone man stepped out of time off his pedestal into the world of the living. He coughed dust from his lungs and stumbled about on very real legs of flesh and bone. And his appetite, to everyone's dismay, was voracious. Once he drank all the water he could, they fed him in small amounts despite his complaints for more. Mostly it was to stop him from choking on his food, but also to make sure he didn’t get sick from too much at once. Unfortunately, they underestimated the amount of times he’d end up whining for seconds. Even thirds.
No, not whine: demand.
If not for his inability to walk a straight line, Lucy or any of her peers would have gladly taken away the ability for him. (Gray had threatened it twice, with the same rock he’d brandished the day before that he kept close at hand.)
He spoke as if they would respond to every beck and call, haughty commands that he thought left no room for arguments, expecting them to serve him at any given moment.
When they didn’t, he attempted to complete the task himself. More food? Explain the odd clothes in the nearest suitcase? Each time ended the same: A huffing so-called Prince struggling to rise, tripping over their luggage, boxed implements and tents. His own curiosity could not outweigh his frustrations as his tendency to drag himself to the doors to ‘inspect the grounds’ ended in failure. His incessant claims to nobility fried their nerves as his demands grew by the minute. A brat, Lucy had said - Gray and Levy muttering in annoyed agreement- and Freed, choosing not to add to the assessment vocally, merely nodded his quiet confirmation.
And yet…
“Lucy, sit down, you can relax beside me.” He said once and patted the cushion he had claimed when Lucy’s confused pacing had made her dizzy.
“I asked for the half-naked jester to move my things, not Lucy.” He had snapped another time when Lucy dragged a spare sleeping bag out for him.
He scrunched his nose when she offered to prepare dinner. “Why are you making Lucy cook?” He pointed to the others, frowning, “Do it yourself. She’s not your chef!”
His entire character turned a 180 the moment recognition lit in his eyes and leaked into his voice. A bias that made Lucy uncomfortable, awkwardly so. And the entire group was quick to notice.
It was a whirlwind. One that Lucy didn’t wish to ride. The earlier excitement of navigating new ruins had soured with the treatment of this so-called Prince; with his pushy demands and constant need for assistance. It sprouted a dreadful headache just behind her eyes.
Fortunately, all he needed had been a day to recuperate. His strength returned, each step less clunky than the last, and his ability to move around reminded Lucy of a child with a never ending source of energy. He couldn’t sit still for longer than five minutes. And he, much to their chagrin, couldn't keep his curious fingers away from most of their things.
Even so, his stamina–apparently drained after disuse, sent him back to the floor again after less than thirty minutes of movement, which in his eyes was barely any time at all. It was becoming difficult to keep his mood level after his energy was spent so quickly and even more so keeping him away from the many implements and notes they’d brought along with them for the survey.
When Levy decided to finally make her way into the decaying Library, Lucy dove on the opportunity to join her. Anything to get away from the mysterious man that kept ordering her to stick close to him.
“Erm, no offense, Lu,” Levy mumbled, fingers twitching as she wavered in and out of the doorway, “But it might be best if you stay behind until he’s a little less.. Um, clingy?”
Her eyebrows moved, gesturing towards the formerly stone prince as he rushed to stand, ready to demand Lucy’s presence once more. “With his legs half as wobbly as they are, it’s safer for him not to go near any of the books or anything in there really. Especially if there's anything salvageable, don’t you think?”
Lucy’s heart sank, realizing the wisdom behind the statement, but still disappointed all the same. “Ugh, can’t we just…call someone to get him? Clearly, he needs a hospital or something.”
“Yes, I’m sure they’d love to hear, ‘please, get this man who's been asleep for 500 years to the nearest ICU. No, we’re not prank calling you, honest!’ I bet that would go over nicely.”
Lucy snorted at Levy’s sarcasm, but the shorter girl was just as stubborn as she could be.She patted Lucy’s shoulder in support. “I know it's rough, but…maybe with him less likely to pass out from hunger, he’ll be willing to listen to you. It doesn’t hurt to try, right?”
“Ugh, but he’s so-” looking back at him, she flinched when he shouted another order at Gray, who snarled from his tent, ready to commit murder. Lucy quietly hoped he didn't have that rock nearby “-that.”
“Oye, Lucy! “ Natsu called, voice echoing. “Take me with you, I don’t want to smell this guy any longer then I have to-”
Gray shouted from his tent, “I’m not the one who hasn’t BATHED in 500 years, you prick-”
“All right, all right,” Lucy hastily said, shoving Levy out the door, “At least take Freed with you while I deal with this.”
“I KNEW you’d understand!” Levy gushed, winking conspiratorially. “I’ll tell you everything when I get back.”
“Yeah, yeah- “
Lucy regretted her decision within the first ten minutes.
Not only was the ‘sleeping prince’ so abrasive to Gray that the half-naked man rushed out the doors - shouting about exploring the remnants of an aviary but without any tools in hand or a shirt much less -, but his obvious attachment to her meant she couldn’t move five feet without his immediate questions raining down on her.
Where are you going? Why are you pacing? Just what are you doing with those old books? How do any of these strange mechanisms work? Is it magic? Are you - on and on the questions came until she’d all but given up on any work she could manage in the room.
Sending a rueful glance back towards the door, she yearned for the chance to explore.
"Traitor," she muttered under her breath, thinking of Gray’s quick departure, envious of those free to work while she remained grounded by a child stuck out of time. Coming here had been a dream come true. Now, she was reduced to a mere lookout and babysitter to someone who shouldn't even be here.
The realization rankled her, nerves firing in agitation as an oddly quiet Natsu leaned heavily against the lawn chair they’d brought with them, and began to fiddle with the thin fabric of his clothes. The light tearing of the aged silk pulled Lucy’s attention back to him and watched him frown at the hole in his sleeve, disconcerted by the apparent state of his clothes.
“I guess this is just further proof then,” he grumbled, voice a morose contradiction compared to his earlier imposing attitude. “I’ve….. really been asleep for a long time, haven’t I?”His rueful expression, eyes filled with a doubt that replaced his earlier confidence, sobered Lucy, who examined his clothes curiously.
While a statue, his clothes had been pristine, immaculate. However, unlike him, they had begun to match their age, slowly deteriorating to loose threads that became stiff and brittle. Noticing the one tear, led to her catching a glimpse of more littering his pants and tunic, making him look bedraggled rather than a noble.
“We’ll have to get you some clothes,” she answered, and swatted his hand away from playing with the new found hole in his sleeve. “Stop that! Do you want to make it worse?”
“Oi,” he squawked, imperious gaze flicking to hers in offense. “Who said you can touch- agh, you know what? Never mind. It doesn’t matter.” His ire died as quickly as it came, eyes revealing an exhaustion beyond his apparent years.
Well, that…was not expected.
Gnawing her lip, she met his gaze, stubbornly refusing to give an inch as she examined the cloth. “It’s finely crafted. Or was, I guess. But, unless you want to be naked before we can find replacements, you’re going to have to get used to being told no, buddy.”
“Tch.. that’s hardly the issue.” Glancing towards the nearest wall, he frowned deeply, examining the room, shoulders slouched. “Igneel would hate this.”
“Who?”
“You know who.” He stressed, rolling his eyes in annoyance. Pausing, he caught himself and backpedaled. “Wait, no. No you don't. You’re not her.”
Sighing, he held his legs up against himself and grumbled. “The King. My…my dad. This was his office. He would have never allowed it to get like this.”
Lucy didn’t stop to think before the words were already tumbling from her mouth, “I don’t think the dead have much control over-”
The gaze he cast her way cut her off, the words dying in her throat as the blatant mourning that watered the edges of his green eyes. “You don’t get it.” He whispered, but she caught it all the same. It was a voice that desperately choked back a deep, consuming sorrow.
Oh.
Shame filled the depths of her stomach like rocks. Swallowing thickly, she bit her lip, wincing as she turned her gaze away. She couldn’t look him in the eye. Not after that.
No one deserved such insensitivity, especially not an out-of-time Prince mourning the loss of everyone he once knew. “Sorry, that was…I worded that poorly.”
There were questions burning at the tip of her tongue. What sort of king had his father been? Did the people love them? What could have possibly put the castle into such a state that no history books covered its existence? How had he become stone in the first place? The reality that set upon Lucy’s shoulders made her almost delirious and dizzy, but she reigned in the urge to submerge him in too many questions. His predicament confused her enough as is. She couldn't imagine herself in his shoes, trying to figure it all out only to be bombarded with a multitude of questions.
“Tell me about….Lucy.” She opted for this instead. To serve as some form of distraction. A safe question that still could give her something. He glanced at her, cocking a brow in confusion. “Obviously, I look a bit like her, and it sounds like we shared the same last name, but I was never told my family had nobility.”
She hadn't expected the weakened Prince to answer her, not after her thoughtlessness. She half expected his snappy mood to return full force, but he took the distraction with ease. His lips pulled into a frown as he mulled over the question. “Her hair’s longer by a lot, but usually she had it up in a lot of braids and in some kinda thing the maids called a…snead?”
Lucy, mystified by his choice in words, decided he certainly didn’t mean the shaft or handle of a scythe. “You mean a snood?”
“Yeah, that. I saw her take it off once, complaining it gave her headaches. I couldn’t figure out how she didn’t accidentally sit on her hair when it was down. It was that long.” He shrugged, eyes glancing over her in one fell swoop, looking for other differences.
“She visited a lot, being the daughter of a Duke and all. He came to call constantly, discussing business with my father. She was… uh…" Scratching the back of his head, his expression became uncertain, eyes clouded over from the memories, “I think we were… friends?”
“Isn’t that something you’d usually know?” she prompted, watching the myriad of emotions that flickered behind his narrowed eyes.
“It’s complicated," he grimaced. "Her dad wanted us to get married, but uh, we knew each other since we were kids, so it was strange.”
“Sounds perfectly normal for royalty and nobles.” But also awkward, she thought, considering they were discussing a girl that looked exactly like her, but she kept that to herself.
“Maybe, but he also tried to marry her off to every other lord in the area.”
Now it was her turn to grimace. “I may love history, but that’s the one thing that always bothered me. Please tell me he didn’t try to make her marry some old dude.”
He snorted, “Just their sons. Not that they are any better.” She chose not to comment on his use of present tense.
That was a relief. Somewhat. “So, was she interested in any of them?”
That question spurred an odd expression to stiffen his features.
He shifted restlessly, took another look around the room, and unexpectedly jumped to his shaky feet. When he almost fell into her, she sprang to her feet, balancing him from the side. Her voice raised in pitch , but he didn’t respond, just looked towards the exit as if the stale air was suffocating.
“You wanted to explore more, didn’t you?” he asked, the question tumbling from his lips once it became clear she wasn’t about to let him go off on his own. “How about we get some air? I’ll behave. Honest.”
Lucy wasn’t sure how much she could trust that statement, but found it hard to deny him. After all, he was right. She did want to see the rest of the grounds, and if Levy wouldn’t let her go with, then why not take him along on her own venture?
“Sure. If we go far enough, we might be able to find some spare clothes for you.” They may get lucky along the way and find a few of Gray's things scattered about the path. And if that didn't pan out she was certain they left behind extra items in the van. - but how would this embodiment of ‘blast from the past’ react to a horseless carriage? She giggled at the thought.
At Natsu’s questioning stare, she waved him off. Glancing back towards the makeshift camp they’d made for themselves. Freed and Levy would be gone for hours and knowing Gray, he’d find other things to keep his interest before having to return. It was possible they’d return before the others knew of their venture. To be safe, Lucy moved to jot down a note, hastily leaving it tacked to the front of her own tent. There, now they won’t be confused if they return first! Lucy mentally cheered her own quick thinking and marched back to the doors, gesturing for the Prince to follow.
If she noticed the knitted brow and curious stare he gave in response, she didn’t bring it up.
The trip was slow going.
With uneven floors tripping Natsu up every other shaky step, he caused Lucy to stumble with him as he clung to her like a cane. The two barely made good time. Down the decrepit halls they ambled.The dusty, moth-eaten paintings stole Lucy’s attention, gazing in wonder at the crumbling canvases while Natsu frowned, irritated by their poor state. He’d stop in his tracks for each one, muttering furiously about their original details lost to the ages, before moving on faster than Lucy was ready, only to curse when he toppled over his feet all over again. It was a repeating pattern and Lucy suspected, with a heavy pang in her chest, that anger was easier to express than the grief that dragged his shoulders down.
They came across other passageways or doors leading to old, caved-in rooms and he’d peek his head around the corner or through the doorways with a crinkle of his nose, unimpressed by the scent of rotting wood and dust. Lucy tried to pick his brain, asked if he remembered the rooms and what they used to be. Each time he’d answer, but his replies were often distant and hollow, unsure as he failed to grasp the foggy memories.
She got the impression he wouldn’t have had much more to say either. His mind was weak on more than just his sleeping arrangements, as if memories fell from his mind in fractured pieces he couldn’t fit back together. Each new attempt to recall his past formed an irritated tick in his forehead and his scowl took a near-permanent residence on his face.
“You were asleep for a very long time,” Lucy consoled when he failed to remember what she could only assume was a drawing room for guests. “Maybe you just need some more time for it to come back to you?”
This didn’t mollify him as much as she hoped, but he nodded nonetheless, stubbornly pushing from her shoulders to traverse the entry hall on his own, hand causing a trail of dust as he steadied himself against the wall. She resisted the urge to chase him. Perhaps it was better to let him stand on his own until he no longer could.
“None of this looks right,” he grumbled, his mounting frustration evident. The Prince paused halfway through the hall to stare at a fallen chandelier resting lamely on its side. It was larger than he was tall, once pristine crystals yellowed with age, but the rusted metal still held onto a hint of its former opulence as hints of gold peeked through the decay.“Five hundred years…has it really been so long?” The whisper stuck in his throat as though the realization finally sank in now that the evidence lay crumbling before him. She wasn't sure if he meant for her to hear him.
“We didn’t lie about the current year,” she answered, almost offended. “But we all agreed that this place looks good considering its age. You’d think it wouldn’t be this sturdy anymore.”
“Guess that just shows how great the architects were in my time,” he boasted, a confident grin finally lighting up his once dark expression. Unfortunately, she noticed it didn’t reach his eyes.
Exhaling a sharp laugh, Lucy peeked out the large, creaky, double doors that barely hung on their single hinges, and spied the outer courtyard with a soft smile.
It was devoid of buildings , but she could see where each statue once belonged, where each bush had been carefully tended to. Just imagining what it looked like back in its heyday filled her with an enchanted awe.
“Sure, we can go with that.” She answered his boast with a poor attempt to mask her condescension. His pride in his own home was endearing, she could admit, but she truly didn’t think the slow aging of the castle had anything to do with the architecture.
He tsked, catching the tone, but held off on replying. He moved to join her instead, leaning over her to look into the yard. While he carefully stepped around the doors, Lucy thought she saw his body waver despite the strong, confident steps he took. A shimmer went over his form becoming translucent and fading in places. For a moment he looked as he truly should be, a ghost out of time traversing his fallen grounds. The millisecond she took to blink in surprise, the effect disappeared and he looked as fine as he could be. Perfectly normal, despite the odd circumstances.
“I’ll say this much,” He stated, pulling her from her confused observation, “it smells way better out here.” He inhaled deeply, emphasizing his point.
“It’s a courtyard, it’s supposed to smell nice.” His light expression darkened to a spoiled pout by her tacit reply. “It’s probably not supposed to smell like dried flowers, though,” She added.
“Still way better than dust!” Her exclamation was met with a chuckle from him and their trek through the broken paths became far more relaxed than before.
With Natsu no longer barking orders and demanding assistance, his demeanor was slowly becoming more tolerable. At times, she noticed, he was oddly cute, but when he’d look at a broken statue, or back to the empty windows and heave a sigh, it left her feeling hollow, unsure where to even begin to help him.
From a distance, he still resembled the statue she’d come across. There was something so distinctly ancient about him despite barely looking older than herself. It was evident now as he explored the courtyard. He almost merged with the environment, part of it but still puzzlingly separated all at once.
The palpable grief in his eyes was a mirror she understood all too well, but couldn’t bring herself to voice.
Circumstances that made her feel caught up in a whirlwind, and the urge to share her own personal life was just as jarring. She stamped those feelings down and followed him through to the stone wall that towered above the grounds, separating the castle from the surrounding forest.
“Now, this is definitely not right.” Natsu's voice broke through her reverie, brows knitting together in consternation. “Wouldn’t there still be signs of a city here or something?”
“Nature can be quick at retaking ground when people aren’t there to hold it off anymore.” She pointed out, but her answer left him unsatisfied. Though she tried to hide it, she couldn’t conceal her own bafflement. “But it is weird that it didn’t overtake the castle, too.”
“Augh, this is so confusing. I don’t like it!”
Lucy was compelled to agree. Looking for the busted gateway she and her peers had come through days before, she spied their van and other vehicles parked further down. There had been no direct road, though what once had been a road in ancient history still split the forest and kept the trees at bay just enough to drive down smoothly. Almost as if this Mystical Castle had purposefully made their trip easy.
The most important equipment had already been brought inside, but left behind in the confines of Gray’s truck, Lucy knew exactly what to look for. Spying the silhouette of a forgotten duffle bag, still upright in the passenger seat, she pointed in triumph.
“Yes! I knew it'd still be there!” His penchant for forgetting clothes would be a win in her book this time around. He looked a similar height to Natsu, so there was bound to be something inside they could use. Gray would complain all night when he realized where his spare clothes went, but it's better than having Natsu near naked around their encampment. “Follow me!”
Natsu’s questioning confusion went ignored as she darted through the gate, oblivious to the sudden temperature drop or the way all sounds from the castle courtyard dulled when she passed. She couldn’t hear the crunch of Natsu’s steps behind her or the birds that once sang from the overgrown bushes. There was the truck and only the chilling wind as Lucy approached, excitedly fishing her spare keys from the pocket of her pants.
She knew he wouldn't understand what vehicles were and she expected the Prince to follow her lead, curiosity and amazement urging him to inspect the large machines with the same fervor that he inspected everything else. If she had the time to consider, she could have offered to show him how they work. That enough would occupy his mind for hours and she wouldn't mind answering his assault of questions. But that could be saved for later. Swinging open the truck’s door, Lucy cheered as she retrieved the duffle bag, brandishing it over her head.
Only then did she notice the silence.
Gripping the bag tightly, Lucy bit her lip, a strange form of apprehension crawling along her skin that rose in the back of her throat.
She didn’t hear Natsu.
No demands for explanation. No snarky response to her exclamations, no ambling footsteps, nothing. A part of her expected to turn around and find him still stumbling after, slowed by his weakened limbs with a snarky retort waiting for her on his tongue, but even then, she couldn’t catch the shuffling through the waving grass. With a start it struck her also couldn’t sense the looming fortress she knew was behind her.
As if nothing was there, but that couldn’t be right.
It wasn’t right.
Lucy swallowed.The strange sense of foreboding that took over a sour tang that left her mouth dry as she spun to view the gateway, hoping her paranoia was just that.
Of course it would be, she told herself. The spoiled Prince would be there waiting, leaned up haughtily against the gateway or on the ground after falling, stubbornly dragging himself back up to fall again. She’d help him up, apologize and-
What greeted her wasn’t what she imagined.
The Castle still stood, picturesque in its faded brilliance and the gateway looked the same as ever.
Except for Natsu, struggling to stand by the entrance with a hand outstretched to reach her. His mouth was moving hurriedly, shouting something she couldn’t hear. In fact, she couldn’t catch the tones of his voice in any capacity. As if he’d been muted by a remote. But Lucy couldn’t keep her attention. Her feet took her back to the gate and Lucy noticed more and more the odd stance Natsu took, clawing desperately at the grass. His eyes were wide, filled with terror, his fingers still as stone as his feet scraped against the ground helpless in his attempt to pull himself back as his body worked against him.
This wasn’t right. Something was off. She sprinted back, the duffle bag forgotten by her feet once she grasped the fingers reaching towards her, just inches passed the gate.
“Lucy! what's- what is this? What's happening?” Natsu finally reached her, his voice sounding far away despite their proximity, it wavered as he struggled and Lucy placed her fingers against his, recoiling when she felt the frozen chill of stone.
“What’s happening to you?!”
#Fairy Tail Fanfiction#FT Fanfiction#Nalu Fanfiction#Nalu#Natsu Dragneel#Lucy Heartfilia#Kili's Fanfiction#My Writing#Fanfiction#Fairy Tail
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my introduction page :
★ my name is mari
★ i'm a minor, i use she/her
★ i post bout jshk most of the time but i do like the heathers (prefer the movie but the musical slaps too), the hunger games universe and the folk of the air series, stranger things (fuck noah schnapp), and atla (maiko shipper alert)
★ i usually listen to anything that i think sounds nice but i mainly listen to rihanna, taylor swift, britney spears, beabadoobe, laufey
★ i stan twice & ive (bias momo and rei)
★ i love winona ryder mention her name in a sentence and u have caught my attention
★ my ao3 !
★ my byler fic recommendations
★ i love to talk to ppl and make friends so feel free if u wanna use my ask box or message me bc i do not mind <;3
★ ps. if we r mutuals i might randomly leave in the middle of a convo bc somebody might be calling me or my device might die
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why am i doing all this?
well because, it's my passion. there's just something so special about posting about things i love and what i'm currently obsessed with, no matter how many likes i get. i also love eating churros, hanging out with my friends, listening to music, all that kind of stuff !! and sometimes while i'm in the midst of doing what i love, i get hurt sometimes. so i go to the doctor or if it's serious, i go to the hospital.
people in gaza who are my age, however, cannot do the same. they cannot follow their passions as they please. they cannot go to a hospital. since israeli forces have bombed their last hospital.
and not even just civilians who are my age. babies who are literally below 1 years old have been killed and are still getting killed, along with their mothers, fathers, siblings, entire bloodlines and loved ones. just sit there and imagine how losing one person you love would be. people in palestine lose people they love on a daily basis.
it's not antisemitic if you support gaza. many jews around the world support palestine. you don't have to be muslim, you don't have to be arab, hell you don't even need to be asian, you just need to be human and have some empathy.
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THANK YOU for talking about pangzi in the tags of that post ur so right it makes me soooo happy to read fics where he's is fat and happy and hot and loved and it sucks when other people can't see that because of their bias
thanks again for bringing it up because i do think its something the fandom as a whole needs to look at more critically
<3
I'm glad it's not just me and a handful of people close to me seeing that it's an actual big issue in the fandom! ♥️
Especially because so many people will say they love him, he's their favourite but then never actually include him or just treat him awfully.
I get very fed up about it quite often because it's just so obvious to me. I see a lot of people asking "Why is this idea about Pangzi so common it makes no sense" or "Why is this Pangzi ship not as popular as this one while it makes way more sense" and then never actually thinking about it while the answer is so obvious... It's also extra frustrating because none of the actors playing Pangzi are actually fat. They're completely normal men who are just surrounded by extremely skinny boys. I don't even want to imagine how Pangzi would be treated if he were played by an actual fat man. (The closest we get is Liu Tianzuo in TLT1 and it's not surprising to me that he's fandom's least favourite and most criticized Pangzi)
Because this bias also becomes most obvious in headcanons like 'I can only imagine Pangzi as asexual/cishet/in a QPR' (because they're so so fucking common and casually thrown around) it's really hard to point it out to people without them getting really defensive about it.
I have three separate posts about it in my drafts/notes app that I wrote after spending weeks and weeks working on video lectures about diversity and inclusion, many focusing on bias but I couldn't get the tone right so I never posted them.
I just want people to understand that everyone is biased and it's not something that makes you a bad person. Nobody wants to be biased, you just are. You get taught things by the world around you and your brain learns it whether you want it or not. It's up to you to look at what you have learned and think about it at least twice and then unlearn the harmful untrue things like gender bias, fat bias, race bias. It's not easy to address your bias but it does get easier once you accept you are biased and (not to use the terms I learned in my diversity lectures) start overriding your fast brain and start listening to your slow brain. I was once told that your first thought is what you have been taught by the world around you (fast brain) and your second thought is what you, yourself, actually think (slow brain). It's hard and a bit exhausting, especially with something like fat bias that has been so deeply ingrained and normalised, but god when i tell you it makes your world so much more beautiful.
Fat people deserve to be fat and still be loved and happy and seen as sexy and a potential love interest. Pangzi is fat and hot and a wonderful lovely competent man who is strong and funny and kind. He is extremely loved by the people around him, especially Wu Xie and Xiaoge. He has so so so many good and wonderful traits but he also has his quirks and he says the wrong things sometimes and he's impulsive at moments but that's what makes him so interesting and beautiful and dynamic! He deserves to be portrayed like that more instead of just the mother hen who cooks and cleans while the rest has sex or as the wingman for his two besties or the annoying clumsy fat man who once again triggers a trap because of his greed or just the comic relief or the creepy straight man.
ANYWAY I'll shut up now! If you ever want to talk about how how beautiful Pangzi is and how beautiful other characters think he is and how sexy it is of him to be fat, my DMs are always open!
#i really didn't mean for this reply to be this long woops but#I couldn't shut up again about this#just people... look into your bias and ask yourself WHY you think these things about pangzi#ask#anonymous#also about liu tianzuo people tend to bring up things he says and make him into this super problematic gross man#but ikd man if it was liu sang or xiaoge saying those things they'd probably either get instantly excused for them or applauded#or the biphobia#and for the people who read all this and now are here in the tags hello#i just want to add that the QPR and ace thing is especially frustrating#because these things are so important to be portrayed more#but it's just... not ok when the only characters you see like this are fat characters or characters you are not attracted to or sth#and in dmbj it's especially frustrating#because in the novels especially xiaoge is described as especially asexual#but the fandom refuses to portray him often as anything but a sex machine#and then they add pangzi the man who flirts with anything with two legs#THE ONE CHARACTER WHO ACTUALLY IS IMPLIED TO HAVE HAD SEX IN THE SHOWS#as asexual???#that's bias babey#and before anyone whines yes i know ace people can have sex the portrayal of asexuals in fanfic is a whole other chat we can have
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Veneration and Its Converse: Renting an Apartment in L.A. as a Retiree
veneration - n. - great respect; reverence
Although I have probably touched on this before, I feel I must state the obvious one more time: veneration is rare these days. It used to be that if you were a halfway decent person (meaning kind, compassionate, etc.) had money in the bank, the world was your oyster. Well, let's put it mildly, if you consider yourself to be venerated today, chances are you may have the attributes aforementioned, but you aren't sixty five or over.
Over the past weekend, I was hit with ageism head on while trying to rent an apartment in Los Angeles. Mind you, L.A. likes to bask in the often obfuscated light of a democratic state, well aware of the hazards of discrimination. In fact, there are placards posted in myriad places reminding the public reader that it just won't tolerate prejudice of any kind. Funny thing, though, every possible example of bias is mentioned except ageism.
Case in point: admittedly, I, like many of my kind, am a senior citizen with a healthy portfolio and income coming from several sources. Fortunately, I can afford to lease an apartment in both New York and Los Angeles, albeit not simultaneously. In Los Angeles as in many other hot spots in the U.S., in order to secure an apartment, you must prove that your income is three times the monthly rent, which is not easy if the rent is 3K or more. The main problem, though, is that if you happen to be retired, there is no separate application for you. These conglomerates that own the luxurious resort hotel apartment complexes operate on a "one size fits all" policy. Basically, they are not interested in you if you do not have a steady job that pays you a high weekly salary, not even if you are a multi-millionaire sans an occupation other than gardening and golf. Their computer algorithms are created to accept only those who are gainfully employed, blind to the probable possibility that if they are living paycheck to paycheck, they could get laid off at any time, rendering them unable to pay the rent. Contrarily, New York real estate operates on the basis of common sense. In New York City, you have to prove you have fifty times your monthly rent in the bank, which is hard to do when the average price of a one bedroom is $4,500 (or $225,000 in the bank), of course, but most of the young renters have wealthy parents who can and do co-sign their leases for them. The real estate moguls in the City know that money in the bank pays the rent on time, not an iffy weekly salary.
As for me, I liked a complex in the lush, tropical, yet pragmatic planned community of Playa Vista just south of Marina del Mar (both in L.A. county) and applied to rent at Runway, a sleek resort-style complex with all of the amenities you can think of in tow. Because Runway's rental application completely disregards retirees, I was rejected not once, but twice. After much frustration, I gave up on renting there (even though the leasing manager finally emailed me offering me the apartment and apologizing for the ineptitude of his colleagues and data base) and signed with a competitor who took one look at my portfolio and said, "You're approved with verification from your bank." Smart man. He did the mental math.
Regardless of your particular age, it should not be so incredibly hard to rent an apartment these days. And landlords of any kind should not discriminate against cotton tops turned Clairol box tops like me who slaved for many, many years yet cannot boast that they are earning a consistent weekly paycheck. Correct your websites, people in this biz. Add a separate application for retirees or very lucky independently wealthy scions before you continue to embarrass yourselves. You're losing business due to your dearth of common sense. Money is money regardless of its source. That being said, as a new renter, I am still thrilled to be free of all the complications associated with homeownership. The algorithmic aggravation was well worth the transition from money pit to someone else's responsibility. To me, that is a taste of veneration right there.
#word-to-words#slice of life#blog#blogging#editorial#reading#vocabulary#readersmagnet#spilled thoughts#personal essay#writing community#writing#truth#dystopian society#realestate#los angeles
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girl r u ok
i WILL MEVER NE THE SMAME AGAIN
#ik u don’t want an actual answer#but picture this:#your mom has left for two weeks to take care of her sick father who lives far away#leaving u with your dad and grandma#your dad also has to leave for four days because of a work trip#leaving u alone with your grandma that has slowly started losing memory after your grandpa died earlier this year#she asks u 1200 times a day what time it is/ day it is / year it is and just nearly forgets everything#and you have to try your best to be patient#you miss your mom#and then suddenly its comeback day#u wake up early to watch the mv and listen to album and then the pressure to create sets in#u try to gif but in every single set something goes wrong and u feel like u cant do it#it takes u seven hours to finally post a set and u think its ugly and you’re so disappointed with yourself#it’s overwhelming and u keep having these self deprecating thoughts and its a constant circle so u cry and fall asleep#u wake up to your mutuals showinf u so much love esp ashible and annie#and people miraculously like the set u think is ugly#and then your fav band goes live and u read the trans online and its funny#and then your bias the only one in the world posts not ONCE but TWICE#despite being so ia on social media#so yeah. i lost it for a second there </3#pls ignore all typos i promise i know correct grammar and how to spell </3#also ignore this whole thing hdjdjd#angels ☁️#love mail 💌
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runway (m) | jung yoonoh
pairing: model!jaehyun x fashion designer!reader
words: 18.7k
summary: there are some things that come with dedicating your life to fashion: a taste for finer fabrics, a splash of love for art, and an appreciation of the human body. none of these are supposed to include the hottest model you have ever laid eyes on, or the fact that you completely, utterly hate his guts.
genre: enemies to lovers, angst, fluff, light smut, comedy-ish
warnings: sexual content, mentions of anxiety
a/n: woohooooooo she’s finally here!!!! i cant believe this!! everything aside, i do not have first hand experience working in the fashion industry so please do take this with a grain of salt. i’m also going to pass out. good night <3
A list of things you appreciate: colours, satin, comfort.
A list of things you do not appreciate: Jung Yoonoh. Jaehyun. Whatever.
The hum of the car engine has little effect on you; you travel like this almost every day. Tall buildings, scorching pavement, the blare of traffic—it’s Seoul, after all. You sigh, more of a short expression of annoyance, scrolling down with your thumb and back up again. Since when did he get permission to post pictures from pre-fittings? And one of your works, no less.
His feed is so messy. You click your tongue. For a model, that is.
You open the story again and consider messaging him. It’s your cherry red coat, or rather the collar of it, golden thread sewn in swirls of patterns, and a sheer floral shirt extending all the way up to cover Jaehyun’s neck. You frown. It’s meant for showcase, not teasers. Even if the picture extends just from the curve of his shoulder to his parted lips, you can’t stand the sight of it on him. It’s not bias, you try to tell yourself. This is business. You tap your fingertips rapidly against the back of your phone. This is obviously business.
Seoul Fashion Week is the height of your anxiety, which means you have little regard for anything else decorated around you. With a new frenzy arising in every minute of your day—you don’t have time to think, a sense of madness in the way you keep busy. Your Elixir collection is more than what you had hoped for it to be, a twinge of satisfaction sitting at the pit of your stomach. It nicely puts together everything rich and extravagant, humanity’s first love—everything you despise really, so Jaehyun wasn’t a bad choice for a model.
You backspace on your text. Is this rude? Should you care if you’re being rude? How unprofessional, you imagine his voice saying. It wouldn’t be the first unprofessional thing you’d done.
The final text reads ‘Glad you’re enjoying my designs, but they were not meant to be publicly displayed before the official show, as common sense predicts.’
No, of course you’re not trying to be snarky. It’s perfectly formal. All that time writing professional complaint letters to companies for ripping off your designs paid off, you suppose.
You exit the Uber, thanking the driver quickly before you rush into the building, checking the time on your watch. It’s sunny, and hotter than you anticipated. You can only hope it’s cooler tomorrow so the heat doesn’t suffocate your models.
The company building is another madness in its own. Joohyun greets you with a quick smile, a bunch of fabrics being handed to her before she can make any conversation with you, and the rest of the workers bow in greeting before getting back to their own individual windstorms. You step over a few boxes on the grounds, beelining to your workspace so you can settle down your bag.
You’re team leader, you tell yourself, a short breath tumbling out of your mouth. Even so, you don’t do very well under several pairs of eyes on you at once. Some part of you is still the timid fashion designer, packing your entire identity into a small sketchbook.
The sunlight is blaring out of control in the place—it’s meant to be spacious and sunlit, of course, but the heat makes you adjust your collar before you can move forward. The bustle of the style and design team along with the production team in the same place is akin to a nightmare, and you trace your steps quickly.
“Guys,” you begin, fidgeting with the leather strap of your watch as you continue, “Firstly, good job.”
There’s a bunch of short cheers and clapping to interrupt before you can continue.
“As for tomorrow…stylists, I need you to touch up the collars in all the Western-style coats. The detailing needs to be kept clean and sharp. I want the audience to be able to see it.”
You pause, your tone still neutral. “And let’s not start again on the lacing. We had that discussion yesterday.”
There’s some nods and sounds of affirmation.
“Production team…I don’t think I can say much to you without Doyoung getting on my case.”
There’s collective laughter and you crack a smile. With a few more rapid words, you dismiss yourself, walking over to your colleagues to help them out. You’re team leader, the one with the final say in all the designs, but you can’t possibly imagine completing it without Joohyun or the others.
“Good pep talk there, (name),” Joohyun says, walking over to you as her hands sharp and steady as they go through the clothes rack.
“They think I’m an asshole,” you say, breathing out. You know your words are too direct. Drunk co-workers on a Friday night are not the best place to discover facts about yourself. Sometimes even you think you sound bossy. You check the key parts for each item, knowing you’ll be doing this once again before the show.
“We wouldn’t be going anywhere without direction,” Joohyun responds, laughing as if you’d said something silly. “We’re all glad you’re here, (name).”
Words like these are so easing for a mess like you, not that you’d admit it. Joohyun has always been a sort of mother figure to you after you entered this company, followed by Doyoung. A good few years senior to you, she started out as a model before she moved on to designing.
It’s her last year working in this place. But of course, it’s a given when she’s starting her own label (mom clothes and children’s apparel, she’d called her clothing line, rolling her eyes) and one of the most well-known names in South Korean fashion not having her own label is sacrilege (according to your colleagues anyway). She’d said to contact her when you start your own family, and maybe she’ll send a congratulations package for both you and your baby. You’d laughed. Out of all the insults you could ever receive, that was perhaps the loveliest one.
Ridiculousness aside, you’ll miss the comfort of her presence. You were still in school when your designs led you to a showcase in New York Fashion Week, your sponsor more than generous. You stepped into it too soon, too eager. It was breath-taking and awful all at once—and the first time you saw a world outside of your own. It was overwhelming. There are few people in this new world as kind as Joohyun.
The sound of your notification snaps you out of your thoughts. You swear you kept it on vibrate, a little irked at having to search for your phone when your hands are full. The notification itself brings on a stronger wave of vexation.
_jeongjaehyun:
My manager told me it was good publicity
But I could take it down for you
The ‘for you’ adds an unnecessary effect, you think as you hold back a scowl. And what does ‘could’ mean? A miscommunication with the sales team isn’t even on the list of things you need to worry about. Honestly, you don’t have time to fight him, quickly typing out a ‘whatever. it’s okay’ before looking back up.
You jump, the look on Joohyun’s face a little suspicious for what might come out of her mouth.
“It’s not a crime to text people.” She shrugs, shuffling through the rack one more time to take the clothes for transportation.
You’re quick to jump to your defence. “I have nothing to do with him.”
Joohyun looks at you, amused. “He’s not a bad person, you know? How long are you going to keep hating him for one thing he did?”
“It’s not one thing,” you groan, averting your gaze to the clothes so as to help her. “I just- he’s so- so- oh come on. You know how I feel about him.”
“I’m just saying you don’t have any reason to. Everyone’s different from what they appear to be. Especially in this line of work.” Joohyun balances the clothes you give her across her forearms.
“So he’s fake. I hate that even more.” You sigh, pulling out the blue silk overcoat, the colour matching Joohyun’s work dress.
“You mean unreal? Models tend to be that way—don’t be so harsh on him, honey.”
You simply shake your head, words entering one ear and out the other. Joohyun presses her lips into a line but lets it go soon enough. She knows you’re capable enough to separate professional from personal and that should be enough. You’re not keeping a tab on something as warming as spite.
You can’t believe you’d ever been within five feet of him without turning your nose. You can’t believe you’d smiled at his jokes once, even if it was just that one night. He was the godsent Prince Charming, just perhaps not yours. Paris surely had a distressing effect on you that year.
You don’t make the same mistake twice.
You walk back to your desk to take a seat and scavenge through your belongings, most of the people already outside. Fashion Week, which once upon a time was a faraway dream, now is part of life—exciting and exhausting. It’s almost always over in a flash, your love for it whisked in peaks of bittersweet. (“You work your ass off for six months and it’s, what, fifteen minutes long?” your mother had asked after you’d brought her to one of the shows.)
This line of work is a nightmare without mental preparation. You have a degree, you have experience and yet it doesn’t feel enough, confidence easier to drain in a person than blood. And you’re not very fond of pale cheeks.
It came to asking yourself if you really have it in you for a few months—a test of sorts everyone puts themselves through at least once in their lives. At that time, your favourite professor, a bald man nearing his retirement years with the wrinkliest face you’d ever seen, had asked you just one question.
Do you love it?
Of course you fucking do.
You couldn’t say that to his face, sure, but you know he saw it in you—either the effort you put out every day of the semester or the way your hands moved across fabric like a machine, your designs made with the persistence of nature. Your final year project landed you an internship at one of the largest clothing brands in Seoul and your internship landed you a job at the same. Your job, well, lead you to Jaehyun, among many other things.
You scowl at the image of his face that appears when you close your eyes, massaging your forehead—it’s hard to not see it everywhere already, from Cosmopolitan to Vogue.
While you were biting your nails in New York, Jaehyun had flown out to Paris with Saint Laurent, one of the younger male models to show his face for the first time. He’d taken the whole place by storm, you had heard from a friend. To say half the world had fallen in love—either with his dimples or his confident walk—would be an understatement. A privilege, to be gold-plated in a mercenary world.
You’d briefly made eye contact at the airport the first time you saw him, a year later, when you were arriving in Incheon and he was leaving it. It was London, that time. For him, Milan. As much as you couldn’t believe living a fashion student’s dream, Jaehyun’s face was truly, unironically much more unrealistic. Your classmates’ gabs and gossip in sewing class had suddenly made sense. You taught yourself to not be swayed by faces, even if they look like they’re stitched together by Aphrodite and Apollo with their bare hands—friendly advice from seniors at the orientation night ‘party’.
You’d met him formally in Paris, after you’d graduated from fashion school. He was certainly the most beautiful face in the room—and you weren’t the only one aware of it. The entire night you’d been starting conversations you couldn’t relate to, till he came along with his charming dimples and a faux connect. You were naive, and a little tipsy. The attraction was obvious, and it had been you by the bathroom pulling him in for a drunk kiss till he’d snapped out of the daze—as if it were some joke you’d been playing. He’d apologized before leaving, like it wasn’t a big deal, with silken lips parted in a gesture of remorse and a short, firm bow. It didn’t settle very well alongside the merlot in your gut.
You. You’re a big deal.
You were alone in a room full of painted faces and he sat atop the throne they worshipped. Why had you expected any more from him—in the understanding nods or the few kind words that escaped his lips? You felt stupid. He made you feel like smiling for the first time that night and you hated him for it—you’re sure he doesn’t care either way. Or maybe he does, with the wonderfully irked responses he graces you with.
Jaehyun made something out of himself in these nine years, just as you have. Runway supermodel to the face of South Korean men in fashion to an entrepreneur, he might as well have a documentary on him—and he would if he didn’t evade paparazzi and reporters like his life depended on it. Enigmatic, the articles wrote. You scoffed. Conceited, more like. After the initial years, he decided to settle in New York, frequently flying to Seoul and other fashion capitals for business and contractual events. Some of those occasionally include your shows.
Having Jaehyun gets more attention but it’s not like you’re a new, doe-eyed kid. Your works have been featured for popstars and foreign celebrities, and you’ve been invited to several interviews with big magazines. You’ve gone global (albeit under the brand’s name) and you’ve been to places you’d only seen pictures of in the very same magazines you looked up to. They can describe your work as unique all they want—and you don’t mean to sound fucking pretentious—but your job is nothing more than an expression of the self. It’s a part of you; you first started sewing patches onto things simply because your closet lacked colour. And eventually, you found yourself searching for more—colours, fabrics, dreams. You’re devoted to your job because you love it, you want to do it. You’re allowed to be a little arrogant about it.
If only trying desperately to be arrogant did something about your insecurities.
You hope your works redefine themes, your need to stand out contrasting with your fear of it. Eye-catching is always your forte; this time it’s fairy tales and royalty in a mix of East meets West.
D-1. Same feeling, new season.
The press is here, you take note. Photographers. Models. Students. Vloggers. It’s a burst of colours down there.
You hate running late, rushing down the stairs to the plaza through the crowds of people. Some recognize you, as they make their way to you but you end up walking a little faster to minimize your presence. You curse yourself for wearing the jacket. It goes nicely with the rest of your outfit and March isn’t supposed to be this hot. You wipe the sweat from your hairline, hoping the makeup is waterproof like it said.
You consider stopping at the café for a fix of coffee but stop when you notice Joohyun holding a bunch of cups by the venue. She doesn’t look too happy about the sun, or the burdening errand of fetching coffee. You adjust her little red beret at her request, smiling at her annoyance but trying your best to keep it hidden. You don’t want to get cussed out by Joohyun.
“Someone tell Doyoung to get his coffee,” Joohyun complains. “I’ve been waiting for half an hour.”
“I’m sure that’s an exaggeration,” you say, sipping your coffee. The taste fills your senses with a pleasant dose of energy and you hum out a satisfied note. “Why are there so many students out here? Influencers? Did we sponsor this many kids?”
Joohyun shakes her head. “Jaehyun just got here.”
You suppress an eye-roll. “Wonder why he still comes back for Seoul when he’s booked full for New York.”
“It’s his hometown.” Joohyun shrugs. “I’d come back too. Even if I’m paid more out there.”
You finish your coffee and duck into the fitting room, much to Joohyun’s displeasure as she’s left alone again. Doyoung’s in for an earful, you chuckle thinking about it.
It would look like a hell of a mess to anyone not accustomed to this. Everyone is a flurry by themselves alone but if you mix them with the eclectic crowd you find at a Seoul Fashion Week backstage, it’s more of a disaster. A colorful one, at the very least.
New York was worse. You were too young, in a world that was too big. It’s a miracle you even received an opportunity from so big a name. But, you suppose, it hardly matters now.
You no longer live in a world where Seoul is far from Paris. Fashion and art are things unmarked by place of origin.
It’s easy to spot Jaehyun in a corner, two people adjusting his coat for better fitting at the waist. His makeup’s done, you notice as you get closer. Good, you think. If any makeup were to get on the fabric, you’d go feral (although you do have full confidence in the makeup artists here and their choice of product).
“Jaehyun,” you greet. Your co-workers give each other a look before excusing themselves. You raise an eyebrow, too late to stop them. They didn’t finish the looping of the belt properly, you take notice. You wrinkle your nose. Sloppy.
“(name).” He responds with an equal lack of amusement.
You pull the belt at his waist, Jaehyun stiffening at the contact.
“What are you doing?” he asks, looking down at you with a raised eyebrow.
“My job? What do you think, genius?”
Jaehyun presses his lips together and lets you complete the altercations. The chiffon shirt allows you to see the hazed definition of his core, a rather flustering thing to be exposed to for anyone with eyes. When you look up in a moment’s mistake, you’re reminded of why his face is everywhere. Flawless, almost. You hate it. Averting your eyes, you fix the collar so the pattern stands out more. You can feel his eyes over your outstretched hand all the way to your face, subtle as ever. If Jaehyun thinks you’re bothered by it, he’s an idiot for believing so.
You take a step back to analyse the coat. The golden threads are flawlessly detailed, spiraling in patterns of different flowers and vines around the collar, gradually getting larger as they twine at the base of the neck. They meet the polished rhinestone buttons a little lower. You almost smile. You’d sewn each thread and each button in yourself the first time. It hardly looks the same now.
Bright red is an eyesore if you look at it longer than five minutes, you realize. The frown that’s been itching to show up finally does. Suddenly, you’re glad Jaehyun is modelling this piece. You shake your head and look back at his face, from his deep-set brown eyes to his full, tinted lips before pausing. The little Swarovski pearls line strands of his hair in a starry display, perfect in every angle of it. It’s easy to appreciate the human beauty when you see his face, and even if you claim your vehement dislike for him, you’re not a liar nor an idiot.
How infuriating it is, to let things be. Bad blood can only dry to an ugly, unusable brown.
You narrow your eyes at the thinning layer of glitter on his peach-blushed cheeks. He doesn’t exactly need much more of it but the unevenness bothers you.
“Your makeup needs retouching,” you say, frowning. “Did you touch your face? I thought you were a more...professional model than this, Jaehyun.”
“You walked in,” he replies, casually. “I was distracted.”
You feel your cheeks colour. “That’s- that’s not a reason.”
He smiles politely. “I suppose I’ll leave you then. You must have other work to do.”
You hold back a biting remark. His playfulness doesn’t sit well with you; he’s polite just enough to annoy you and straightforward just enough to make you want to throw something at him. He could’ve directly told you to fuck off maybe—but oh no, it’s Jung Yoonoh, seamless and radiant, with only the sweetest collection of words on his tongue. You think of the first time you met, something warm in the corner of your heart. You’d mistaken it, of course.
He didn’t care for you, or any of the people trailing after him and his silver flute, or the rest of the shallow carcass of a world so undeniably obsessed with him. It didn’t hit you till he’d left you hanging, mangled memories of something close to hurt. You’re glad you didn’t kiss him. You wouldn’t be able to get over the embarrassment, the blow to your pride had it escalated any further.
And of course, the one thing he did to make you absolutely certain of his distaste—was simply choose another designer’s work over yours when given a choice. It seems silly, unprofessional even, but the lack of response to your Fall/Winter ready-to-wear collection had been embarrassingly low, someone else’s designs sold out at an equally awful rate. You—your insecurities—wanted to blame your own failings—maybe it was the lining of the coats, or the colours maybe— the fabric? Perhaps, you hadn’t focused on comfort all too well. But it was clear, a word from Jung Yoonoh could change the minds of a fashion-forward youth as easily as his face and physique scored contracts with the biggest brands and labels. And it was clear he didn’t like you very much.
You walk over to the other models, eyes scanning down to the T. You glance over one of Joohyun’s designs, a modern men’s hanbok. The blood red paired with yellow is certainly easing on the eyes, though the shades vary from top to bottom, like a sunset. The dark grey chunky shoes fitted under dark tights complete the entire future oriental look you suppose she was going for. She’s only showcasing two of her designs this year and they’re just before the centrepiece. You shake your head, clutching the fabric of your jacket sleeve. You hate seeing other designs before a showcase, even if they’re a friend’s.
You turn your head to make eye contact with Jaehyun across the room. It takes a few seconds but you snap your head in another direction to break the spell.
How strange. You haven’t had nearly enough coffee to feel jittery under his gaze.
You’re forced to take a breather away from this jungle of liveliness.
The amount of people outside the venue gives you yet another headache. Excited college students and fashion vloggers stand outside expectantly, and you give a short bow and polite ‘hello’ to anyone who approaches. You desperately want to be left alone. Even if it’s for a few seconds.
You walk quickly, your feet soundless against the floor. Your mask performs considerably (and surprisingly) well in hiding you. You consider visiting the Design Market to enjoy a seat alone and charge your phone before it’s show time.
Open spaces. You need open spaces. Suddenly, the DDP seems to be suffocating you despite its tremendous size.
“Hey!” You’re greeted with a sudden force to your right side, an arm wrapping around you. You look up to see Johnny, a wide grin on his face and you let yourself mirror it, shaking your head.
“Big day,” he says. “Want me to take some pictures? I’ve got some time between shows—lovely outfit, as usual.”
It’s strange how Johnny’s the photographer and not the model—you’ve heard he receives a lot of requests to get on the other side of the camera though he always refuses. He doesn’t visit Seoul as often, but he has much to do in uplifting the mood with his strangely effective sense of humour. The coffee-coloured shirt he’s wearing goes well with the plaid grey coat, reminiscent of Fendi’s Spring collection, and sometimes you wonder whether a job as a fashion photographer ever had much to do with his style. Johnny has always been effortlessly impressive.
You politely decline, your mind still focused on the smooth running of things. Nothing’s ever on time when it comes to Fashion Weeks—yes, it’s called fashionably late but it just makes you annoyed. You consider ducking back to your venue, adding some final final touches and any more last-minute altercations. Years have passed and you’re still not used to it, fingers itching to do something about everything. You’re grateful the company gives you your creative space but it only makes you wonder just how far the limits are.
Johnny accompanies you to the charging station till he’s distracted by some of the children in the latest Fendi kidswear and you make a mental note to never bring your kids to Fashion Week, if you ever choose to have them.
You breathe in and out for a few moments, feeling lightheaded before the sense of reality touches on you. People walk in and out of the stores lining the pathways, a soft buzz of conversation in the air as your eyes follow their movement. You wonder if you’ll have your own stores opened in plazas like this—here, in Seoul, and on brightly lit streets of the world outside. After all, colourful dreams are the hardest to get rid of. You sit quietly till you get a text from Doyoung asking you to get your ass over there quickly with several exclamation marks. You smile to yourself. Joohyun might have had a sour effect on him.
You arrive back at the venue, trying to tear your eyes away from anything that might want to make you fix it. You avoid Jaehyun’s eyes even more so, like you’ll jinx something right before it’s showtime.
The buzzing reaches a peak before everything is drowned out.
The show finally starts. And it’s over. Twenty-two minutes, this time.
That’s the way it goes. You hold your breath till you’re sure it’s safe to let go, blind to everything that goes on in between. Sometimes it’s underwhelming, sometimes you can’t give a fuck when you love doing this anyway.
You breathe a sigh of joy when everyone gathers backstage, Johnny making all the models pose together for one giant group photo. It’s like a ritual for him, always finding time for a backstage picture with the models goofing off.
Jaehyun looks at you instead of the camera, a nervous shiver running through you. His gaze is not something of inconsequence, eyes piercing into you with words hanging in the air that you don’t care enough about. You think he sends you a smile, cockier than you’d like. Despite your efforts, you have to look away.
Now, what should your dear Fall collection look like? You exit by yourself, relief humming through your veins when you think of getting back to your apartment, papers to be sketched on in your hands, soft fabric to be sewn on your table. Maybe they’ll display your works in the front rows of the stores, maybe you’ll even have displays outside of Seoul. You’re not a student anymore and your job has taken you enough places.
Even so, Paris and Milan sneak into your dreams often. You used to dream of them so much that it was hard to consider them reality—finding yourself in those streets, in between all those beautiful picture-book monuments.
You prefer Seoul, you decide after conscious thinking. You don’t have to worry about the world outside.
Afterparties are not your thing.
You somehow still find yourself in them, hoping to catch a drunk video of Doyoung for blackmail or make eye contact with an attractive stranger only to stop at exchanging numbers because you never find the time.
It’s a social event. You’re supposed to be doing social things. It’s exhausting.
The last person you expect to bump into is Jaehyun, drinks in hand as he looks down at you with a greeting of surprise on his tongue. He’s wearing a simple dark Oxford button-down, two buttons at his chest undone, and tucked neatly into his pants. His hair looks untouched since afternoon, parted in messy waves, minus the pearls. The music changes to something with slower beats as you stare at each other for a few moments.
“What are you doing here?” You raise an eyebrow. There are other afterparties he could be attending. Big ones.
Jaehyun tilts his head, cracking his neck before smiling. “Charming, as always. I’m here because I want to be here, obviously. So does everyone, I’m sure.”
“Fucking narcissist,” you mutter to yourself. You think Jaehyun might have heard you because you get a dirty look thrown your way, masked with the signature apathy across his relaxed lips.
“That’s a little rich from you,” he mumbles.
The muscle by his mouth twitches but he doesn’t say anything more. This is probably the most emotion he shows, you think. Wouldn’t his lovestruck magazines relish seeing him riled up like this? They’d still find a way to fall in love with him.
You could have, too.
No way. You tell yourself that’s ridiculous.
You’re aware he’s booked for at least three other shows this week. It’s a miracle he agreed to yours, considering your mutual distaste for each other. You suppose it had more to do with his agency than himself but it wasn’t like you were the keener one. Jung Yoonoh is the face professionals look for and your company loves the publicity, although you keep telling yourself your designs would still shine without him.
Jaehyun excuses himself before you can get on with any unpleasant conversation you might have. At least you have something in common—that is, trying to avoid each other as much as possible.
A few minutes (and uncomfortably snaking through swarms of bodies) later, you find Doyoung, unfortunately sober and intending to remain so, people congratulating him with claps on the back for securing the position of PR Head. You think it was supposed to be a secret, but someone higher in the ladder must have spilled early. Joohyun never attends these, and honestly, good for her.
Afterparties are not your thing.
You shouldn’t have taken those shots but you’re on the dance floor now anyway—what more could happen? It’s easier when you’re not paranoid about all the eyes on you, dancing against a stranger with a lion tattooed against his neck. Maybe you’ll go home with him, maybe you’ll leave at the first signs of attraction. Romance isn’t quite on your to-do list, but an occasional intoxication with the skin works just fine. You could live like this for a few moments.
Your back runs into someone else’s rather forcefully and you turn around, apology bubbled up to your tongue already, mixing with the alcohol.
“Oh look.” You roll your eyes. “It’s the prince of high fashion. What can I get you today, sire?”
Jaehyun drives his tongue over his lips, quite definitely over your antics. Soft breaths leave his mouth in a rhythm irrelevant to this box of laughter and blaring music called a party. You love how he never knows how to respond—what new words will he choose to keep false dignity? If you think about it, he’s the embodiment of why you always thought everything was so out of your reach—big names, exclusive parties, not for kids like you. They were never for fashion students too honest to know their own worth.
“Jealousy isn’t a good colour on you,” he says, just loud enough for you to hear.
You scoff, a pang of annoyance sizzling through you. “Jealous? Of who? You?”
You sneer at the last part, Jaehyun’s frown deepening. Some days you just like to think you’ve won. A few moments pass between you two, the sound of pop music filling in the gaps.
Jaehyun presses closer to you, your chests almost touching as your breath hitches in your throat.
“Do you know what makes success?” he says, head dipping lower to look you in the eye. The smell of alcohol disturbs you for a second before your heartbeat gets loud enough to drown it. You try to not focus on how his mouth is so near yours—and perhaps if you were drunk enough, you might commit a mistake against the very core of your being, something you’d been dangerously close to once.
You stay quiet, the pulsing in your ears too loud in the shallow distance between the two of you. You swear it’s always the two of you pressed up like this once you’re drunk enough, the dislike growing stronger and stronger with every breath exchanged. You’ve intertwined each other into a strange garden of contempt, easy to forget when you're facing him. Jung Yoonoh has the prettiest face in the industry, and the only one you can’t bear seeing.
“It’s confidence,” he answers, as slow and steady as ever. “And there’s a thin line between confidence and arrogance I intend to keep. I’m not so sure about you.”
The rest of the night passes without conflict and you retire early, Jaehyun’s breath still hot against your face. Only when you collapse on your bed do you get an urge to shout, yell, anything that doesn’t make you call him up and scream at him. You have your precious dignity too, something he seems to look past. The effect he had on your breathing, the crawling over your skin—God, you hate him. You’re too stubborn to not continue doing it.
“What’s this?” you ask, your eyes darting in between the director of design and Lee Taeyong.
To say you were surprised to see him would be an understatement. You note the simple dark rimmed glasses in contrast with his light dyed hair, the mellow blue of his cashmere sweater sporting his own label’s logo—Lee Taeyong is a household name. You feel yourself shrink the tiniest bit.
This industry’s all about names, you think miserably. You meet people and you remember the ones who can get you ahead. It’s tiring.
Taeyong started his career even earlier than you did, and before he had changed his major to fashion. He’s a little older than you, though he doesn’t look it and he had begun with working exclusively on jackets. Several rejected designs later, he had popped up as one of the designers to look out for in Seoul Fashion Week. Now he has his own global label slowly turning brand, several worldwide stores and everything dreamers in the same place as you look up to. You think you’re fine here, you tell yourself despite that.
The director smiles at you, her hand gesturing rapidly at you to come forward.
“You’re going to be so happy,” she says, signalling Taeyong to continue.
“Uh, hi,” he greets.
A little awkward for a world-class designer, you think.
“I’m Lee Taeyong. You might have heard of me—”
“I know who you are,” you interrupt, ignoring the disapproving look of the director.
“Oh, that’s good!” He smiles. “I’ve seen your work—I’ve been following your work for a few years now…and, well, I’d love for you to work under my label—in a collaboration of sorts. You’ll have full creative freedom, of course! I’m just there more or less for supervision, really…”
You think you feel your heart stop for a few moments, Taeyong’s sudden stream of information fading out. The pinnacle of your career, you believe, had been Paris Fashion Week four years ago and you’d been dreaming of it ever since. This is a business contract, you’re sure, and you don’t know if you have a real choice but maybe you could take that step forward you’ve always wanted to.
“Isn’t that great, (name)?” The director interjects. “You get to work under the Lee Taeyong label. And…surprise! You’ll have your work presented at New York Fashion Week in September. They’ll hit the stores a week later.”
You freeze.
“New York?” you manage to squeak.
“Yep!” Her voice a notch away from annoying. She’s not the first person you’ve met who sounds so goddamn manufactured. “Pack your bags, darling. You’re flying next weekend.”
You must be looking like a deer caught in the headlights because Taeyong opens his mouth to say something, alarmed. You speak before he does.
“Okay,” you say, more to yourself than them. It should be a good thing. It’s supposed to be a good thing. Even so, you feel the anxiety in your ribcage threatening to overgrow into thorns.
“I’ll- I’ll do it,” you clarify. Looking from your manager’s bright yet stern face to the hopeful smile on Taeyong, you don’t think you have much of a choice.
New York, huh. How long has it been? You shudder at the memories, your focus a little off for the rest of the day.
Joohyun visits you a day before you leave. She places the box of chocolates on the coffee table, that Doyoung apparently sent for you.
“You know, I’m really happy you’re getting this chance,” Joohyun says, crouching down beside where you’re splayed, trying to count the travel essentials and everything else on your messy checklist.
“He gets promoted and now he can’t even come visit me, huh?” you say, shifting to grab the box and tear off the clear wrap.
Joohyun laughs. “He’s certainly enjoying his duties. I can’t wait to boss him around again after I leave.”
Your shoulders hunch, a sigh leaving your lips. “Great. You’re leaving. Doyoung’s too busy to annoy. And now I’m a part of this godforsaken project for almost six months.”
Joohyun softens a bit, running her hand through your hair. “I heard you accepted it. All by yourself. You’ll do just fine, don’t worry.”
You feel yourself turn pink, a feeling of warmth you’ve been missing for a week. It’s cozy in your apartment, always the right temperature with a tinge of happy memories. You wish you could find comfort in people as easily as others do. Everything happened so fast, you can barely remember the conversation you had with Lee Taeyong. A few moments pass, Joohyun and you picking out chocolates before you can rummage through your suitcase again.
“I hate New York, Joohyun. Just what else can you throw into the mix to make me hate it even more?”
She freezes for a fraction of a moment, pressing her lips together before clearing her throat. “Oh. Uh. I probably shouldn’t tell you what I was about to tell you then.”
You turn your head to her, eyes narrowing. “What?”
She shrugs, eyes not meeting yours. “You know. New York. Fashion capital of the world. Lots of things to love.”
“What are you not telling me, Joohyun?”
She sighs, defeated. “A certain someone might be on the same flight as you. I was about to give you his number in case you needed help.”
You pause to think, curling your lips. “It’s Jaehyun, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
You groan, dropping your head back and yelping when it hits the coffee table. Joohyun moves to rub your head and ease the pain as you let out a stream of complaints.
“You really thought I’d call him for help?” you yell. “Him? Of all people?”
“I think you’d rather have a known face there. Besides, he’s a good kid,” she reasons, looking you in the eye. “And stop yelling.”
You quieten a bit at her glare, gulping. She adds the number to your contacts, saving it with a professional ‘Jung Yoonoh’ before she helps you clean up, advising you on how to manage your finances abroad. You know she’s trying to ease you, but how could she—after dropping this awful news on you like it shouldn’t matter at all? She doesn’t even know what happened—almost happened in Paris, or the fact that your honeyed feelings had turned bitter so easily. She’s worked with him before, you know this, when he was a much younger model and she trusts him more than you ever could.
But maybe, just maybe she can’t see what you see—after all, she’s also part of the elite, crème de la crème of this industry, more so in this country. It’s frightening, and so vague what goes on up there, at the top of the chain; and whatever you have—it might never be enough.
You’re you. Sometimes, that isn’t enough.
You jump at the water rushing from the shower, too cold for skin and scramble to twist the knob the other way. This time, the water’s too hot and you yelp, shutting it off altogether.
You press your hand against the shower glass, breathing heavy. You’re trying—you’ve been desperately trying ever since you landed a week ago. Change is not something you can take lightly. You miss the dim lights of your apartment in Seoul that Joohyun always warned would get you some brand new prescription glasses. You miss walking down the streets to your favourite convenience store at three in the morning to get honey butter chips. You miss picking fights with Doyoung over which detail to scrutinise during your project discussions. This project seems to have torn apart several things that belonged to you.
You can’t seem to get your head into it either—even spacing out during the meeting you had with Lee Taeyong among several other things. You can’t remember a single design detail he’d specified or what the theme was even supposed to be—a bunch of bright foggy lights replacing whatever fuzz was growing in your head. A twenty-something-year-old shouldn’t be letting homesickness affect them like this.
You finish the rest of your shower with a heavy heart and a clouded head.
Taeyong booking a luxury suite for you was a bit…much. Not that you’re complaining, but it gives more fuel to the profound sense of emptiness you keep drawing. There’s no intimacy to this place, no love. It’s a little hard to create things without love, and comfort.
Still, you grit your teeth and get dressed into something more comfortable for the night. If not today, then tomorrow. Something will have to give, even if it costs you—whatever the hell your parents keep telling you when you’re going through problems. What if you don’t want to be cost things? Compromise isn’t as delicate as it sounds. You try to comfort yourself, rocking yourself on the much too large couch, hugging a pillow close and trying to think of things that don’t immediately make you want to throw up.
The memories of your first visit are a little less than pleasant. You think you cried after the entire ordeal because you thought you did a bad job of talking, socializing, the most ordinary things. There are some people who are good at wearing masks—good at making copper look like gold, good at shining under dim lights, and good at using words that don’t have much meaning to their existence other than being pretty.
You were not one of them.
The intense need for everything to be perfect was still there, even when you couldn’t possibly have achieved it. You wanted to make things and show them to the world—what was so wrong with that? Why did being there make you feel like you could never even touch your dreams? You were so out of place, feeling completely out of touch with yourself. There were people from the top there, established and famous. It felt out of your grasp. You felt fake.
The city lights twinkle with life but there’s no sound, the windows shut tight. The ambience of the room is kept to a caramel minimum—the best you can do to honour your sweet little home back in Seoul.
The hatred for everything pretentious was born with your first step into this place, into the game that the big boys play. It showed in your designs, your choice of fabric, your distaste for certain people. You wanted reality—you wanted a taste of life in your everyday clothes. You wanted that flavour you feel on your tongue in a room full of strangers or the one on a quiet night by yourself at your apartment rooftop. You didn’t want dignified fur coat ensembles, you wanted the naive chaos you feel every day and you wanted to make it look good. It’s driving you insane just how much you feel like you’re losing now.
You take out your phone after what seems a few minutes of contemplation.
Jung Yoonoh. Your finger hovers over the call button. What would he say if his night is interrupted by your voice?
You’d met at the airport after landing, though you were only two seats away in the plane. You’d made no error in acknowledging his presence, browsing through the inflight magazine half-heartedly. Truth be told, sometimes you couldn’t really seem to get over him. Sometimes the thought of him made you so pissed, you had no idea what to think of it.
“Welcome to New York,” he had said shortly after you’d exited, a giant crowd of people greeting out-goers, holding up placards with names of people, in numbers you’re unaccustomed to. Or, used to be accustomed to.
You hadn’t talked since—and really, you weren’t expecting to.
You press your home button, any lingering thoughts of him vanishing at the force with which you tell yourself it’s not worth it. How is Jung Yoonoh better than anyone else you know here? He might have been living in New York for quite a few years now, and he’s probably the only one you’d feel comfortable enough to swear at—that doesn’t mean you’d actually ask for help. That doesn’t mean he’d actually help. Joohyun must have had her hopes far too high to have convinced you for even a moment.
The couch feels colder all of a sudden, and you turn down the air conditioner. This place will never adjust to you, and your stubborn little self won’t either.
You think of Jaehyun from the afterparty, loose shirt and knowing eyes, and you wonder if he feels just the same frustrated agony, if not more. You think of his parted lips and breathing words close enough to be provocative, discomfort growing at the base of your stomach. Who does he think he is? He might have the airs and dignity of someone way up in the hierarchy of society but you know what people can be like. You know envy, you know malice, and you know lies. He has to fit in there somewhere—and perhaps you would have hated him less if he did.
Even if you’d scoffed at the idea of jealousy, that might very well be the closest to what you feel, what you keep hidden in the darkest corners of your locked chest. When you first met at that star-spangled dinner, you’d felt what it’s like to watch a fireworks show or a big musical opening; but the fireworks are being blocked by skyscrapers and you’re only the helping staff at the theatre, watching from a balcony at the very back. Jaehyun was impressive with barely any words. It annoyed you so much and somehow, the only solution you arrived at was the tremendous need to understand him, pick him apart and see what made him.
No. That’s wrong. You were annoyed because you still wanted to kiss him after he’d pushed you away, his dislike steaming clear. It strikes you as gently as lightning that the only reason someone would have to hate Jaehyun is being attracted so violently to him. God, you hate making a fool out of yourself.
You pass the night in quiet contemplation, promising yourself a better tomorrow. After all, no one else is going to do it.
You walk with your chin up as if you don’t feel the weight of the world on your shoulders. You picked out your black Harrington jacket to look at least a little more professional, but you might have miscalculated the size and the material in the equation because you look completely and utterly ridiculous in it. No one would look at you and think you even work in fashion, much less be competent in that line.
(To be fair, you wear the same beige sweater and black corduroy pants to work and if your coworkers choose to judge you, you wouldn’t blame them.)
It’s only been a month and somehow, it translates to forever to you. You think you’re adjusting better now, and you pat yourself on the back for it. It’s not raining today at the mercy of the skies, a tidal wave of sunlight splashing through the buildings every time you take a turn. The city doesn’t scare you all that much anymore. It’s a good day, for once.
You lean your head against the car window, eyes trailing up and down the reflective blue of each skyscraper. You can barely see any clouds, and the sky’s endlessly the same, comforting blue. Just like back home, you think for a moment. Your eyes move back to the sidewalk, people passing by—mothers with their babies in strollers, kids clutching the strap of their school bags as they run, men and women in all levels of professional clothing. No one stops in this city. Except the fucking traffic apparently.
You sigh, glancing at your watch. Only moments ago, you were moving and yet again, you’ve stopped. The cycle keeps repeating and you’re trying to keep patience focusing on things around you that you can appreciate.
Maybe you jinxed it when you said it was a good day.
You reach Taeyong’s studio just in time (not that you’d get yelled at or anything, he’s too nice of a guy). Your eyes fixate on the numbers that light up on the elevator one by one till it finally reaches the first floor.
You walk right into someone’s chest, an apology tumbling out of your lips as you bow out of habit.
“(name)?”
You look up to find Jaehyun in the elevator of Taeyong’s building, a casual white shirt clinging to his frame that’s tucked into his jeans to look somewhat formal. A pink overshirt hangs at his forearm and from the windswept styling of hair and his perfected dark locks, you’ll assume he’s here for a shoot—even without it, he looks like something from a teen magazine, someone people would see and instantly daydream of. Best known for high fashion, Jung Yoonoh is still a spectacle in casualwear.
“I can’t believe I have to see your face here too,” you mutter, getting into the elevator. You’ve had your share of moments with him.
“Good to see you too,” he says, bemused.
You make a sound of acknowledgment, taking out your phone to turn the damn notifications off so you don’t feel it vibrate in your pocket every few minutes. You feel eyes on you for a moment and snap your head to the side.
Jaehyun has his eyes focused on the door, quiet breathing fresh against his lips and you hesitate before concluding you might have been mistaken in your perception.
“You’re here for a shoot?” you ask, curious about his relationship with Taeyong.
“What else can I be here for?” He says nonchalantly.
“Sarcastic. Very nice.”
“It’s a little weird, you trying to make conversation with me. You’re usually raving about me too much to actually talk to me.” He smiles, the dimples provoking and eyes the familiar beguiling brown.
“I’m not trying to make conversation,” you hiss, crossing your arms. “I’m sorry, I forgot you’re only a person in front of cameras.”
Jaehyun takes a sharp breath before turning to you, a not-so-happy look on his face despite the calmness over his features. You’ve seen it enough times.
“How long are you going to keep up the pretentious this and pretentious that before you face it, really?” He looks at you with tight lips, poisonous implications in his question. “Why you love to get up in my case all the time?”
The words take time to settle in. You shake your head when you realize, a sardonic laugh leaving your lips. Of course he’d think that.
“Oh my god,” you scoff. “You’re so full of yourself. You think I’m interested in you? Don’t let what happened years ago get to your head.”
“That’s not what I—”
“Oh, what did you mean then? Pray tell.”
“First of all, stop cutting me off,” he says, taking a step towards you. A certain feeling of uneasiness runs through you when you detect annoyance in his quiet statement.
“Secondly,” he says, taking a another step forward just as your back hits the wall of the elevator, “Stop treating me like I’m the bane of your existence. I have nothing to do with you.”
He’s right, of course, but the words sting where they hit. Asshole, you think. He has no business telling you what to do and what not to do. But in this moment, you can’t fish for the correct words—you don’t have the strength to when you’re so close to each other like this, the scent of his cologne syrupy and sickening. His tall stature is intimidating, with his straight shoulders and proud jawline.
The elevator dings at the seventh floor, Jaehyun stepping away from you without a glance or care, striding out just as smoothly as on a runway.
You take a moment to breathe, unsaid words burning holes into your tongue. You wish you could’ve said something better, anything that didn’t make you feel so pathetic. Maybe you should’ve told him to stick his words up his ass, sounding vulgar being the least of your worries. You wait patiently to reach the last floor, each ding souring your mood little by little.
You are so glad you didn’t call him that night. To think he’d ever help you knowing it’s mutual, the whole hating each other’s guts. You just can’t believe the audacity of him—to accuse you of, what, romantic feelings? In an industry where you can’t tell apart gold from copper? Where all the people warming up to you are fair weather friends and competitors? He must have let all that attention get to his head. Runway faces aren’t as easy to fall in love with as he thinks.
“(name)! Come quick!”
Taeyong’s voice urges as soon as you enter and you settle your bag down, rushing to him. His smile drops when he sees your seething figure place your bag on the desk with a loud thud. You turn to him, without a hint of sweetened formality and ask him the day’s schedule.
Taeyong gulps before responding, undoubtedly afraid of your lips, a twitch away from a scowl, but he explains nicely nonetheless.
“Can you do a rerun of these designs for me?” he says, arranging the papers on the desk. That’s how he says these need improvement. No wonder the interns love him.
Taeyong’s in his usual attire, still too chic for you but strangely comfortable to look at. You nod, immediately scrutinising them, your (almost pointless) years of training trying to give you hints as to where you went wrong. You’re not really expecting to find big flaws or anything—just details you can enhance. You’ve learned enough about Taeyong in a month and it’s that his sense of style encompasses comfort, even in the most abstract of concepts. You respect him for that. It doesn’t change the fact that you think it’s a little overdone maybe.
Taeyong laughs, breaking you out of your daze. You raise an eyebrow.
“Is- Is something wrong?” You look at him, perplexed.
“It’s just that- It’s just you remind me a lot of the fashion students.” He smiles at you.
Your shoulders droop. Amateur. New. Unprofessional.
“Oh.”
Taeyong rephrases himself quickly, waving his hands about. “I don’t mean it as a bad thing! It just means you still…love doing it.”
It sticks with you longer than you’d expect, as you work throughout the day. You think Taeyong is too nice to criticize you properly but he eventually gets the point across—stick to the theme, written in Taeyong’s dainty handwriting and pinned to the softboard.
Secrets.
What an atrocious concept. Firstly, it makes no sense apart from sounding like a fucking lingerie collection. Secondly, when you went over Taeyong’s designs with the layers and patches, you supposed he wanted to focus on the inside of things because everything he’d drawn was inside out. Thirdly, when you heard him explain it, you were a little taken aback to hear it was going to be all about you, us. The designers, the models, the photographers, the magazine editors—there are millions and millions of people working to make sketches come to life, for a few items of clothing in someone’s closet. It feels nice to hear that from him. You promise you’re going to perfect it.
And perfection is your dear old friend.
It’s what you always strive for, but end up with something else that’s a little less beautiful. You take slow breaths, removing and adding details (after all, art is in the details). But perfection can easily grow tiresome. It makes you increasingly frustrated and you don’t think you have the heart to tell Taeyong everything in his studio stresses you out.
“So, you’re working with Jaehyun?” you ask, trying to look less antsy.
Taeyong blanks out for a moment before responding. “Yes. Why? Is he- Is he making you uncomfortable?”
Uncomfortable wouldn’t even begin to explain what he makes you feel.
“No,” you deny. “Just curious.”
Taeyong smiles. “We usually work on summer shoots together. It’s like tradition.”
“That’s…nice,” you say, trying to reciprocate his smile.
“Oh, but we’re having terrible weather so the shoots keep going longer than planned. That’s why I’m having to compromise planning time with you. Sorry about that.”
You try to keep your posture despite the mild annoyance brewing at the back of your head. Great. Now you have to see Jaehyun’s unbelievably annoying face every time you walk in. Maybe if you plead enough, you’d get permission to leave early and not want to throw some insults at him.
You decide to walk, despite Taeyong insisting his driver help you get home. He doesn’t act like it but he’s a busy man, with side projects and interviews coming up so often you lose count. It’s no wonder he had to, and you hate using this word, hire someone for the label’s next venture. You think articles like Lee Taeyong loses touch and hires designers instead of doing his job would make him upset but he seems to genuinely not let it bother him. It’s about ideas to him. His label, almost large enough to be a brand, is for ideas; what a pretty thing to base your business around. While you thought you were a big shot back in South Korea, you’re almost nothing more than Lee Taeyong’s co-designer—assistant here.
You feel drops of what you felt years ago trickling down your throat. Overshadowed. Powerless. Imposter. Something about New York makes you want to pull all your hair out. You wish you hadn’t been here in the first place, maybe then this would seem more of a fun trip than memories weighing you down. But then if you hadn’t been here, you might not have even started.
You hug yourself at the sudden downpour, clouds kind enough for it to be nothing more than showers but you’re soaked anyway. Kind, but still a little cruel. Running under the eaves of a store, you curse yourself for not bringing an umbrella the only day you needed it. You stand there for a while, just breathing.
Real life is never like movies, is it? Cameras lie. Pretty faces lie. Sometimes you end up stuck in New York rains without an umbrella or a friend to call or a lover to protect you. You end up getting an Uber, taking awfully long to arrive due to the traffic the rain had ensued and try your best to ignore the disgruntled driver mumbling about you wetting his seats.
You still don’t know how the goddamn shower works.
You manage to complete without either scorching your skin off or freezing it to Greenland and back—a feat much more successful than whatever you had going on for today. You slip into the absurdly soft mattress, pillows and covers swallowing you into a state of sleep.
You start the day almost pouring coffee onto Jaehyun’s spotless white shirt. And you might have were it not for immense self-restraint, and the fact that Taeyong’s eyes were trained on the two of you.
“So…are you two…a thing or something?” he asks, eyebrows furrowed.
“No,” Jaehyun responds calmly while you sputter it out.
Taeyong apologizes, a laugh following. “You seem to have worked together before. Jaehyun, you never told me that.”
“I…I thought you knew,” he answers, leaning back against the tabletop.
“Ah, well,” Taeyong shrugs. “Thanks for helping me out with this, (name). Maybe- maybe we can draw some inspiration for the collection from outdoors.”
“Of course,” you say as you smile wide, trying hard not to break the coffee mug in your hand.
If you’re being honest, you had a gut feeling you’d be asked to help with Taeyong’s (apparently) infamous summer shoot. He walks into his studio every morning with hair in a disarray, talking to more people than he might enjoy and the entirety of New York weather against him. There’s only so much time a man can have and under pressure, he’s going to have to choose. It’s easy to feel sorry for someone like him.
This should be the stylist’s job. Jaehyun stands with his chin up as you adjust the fitting, smoothing out creases and making sure the cerulean shirt is pinned right, satin feeling cool and nice under your fingers. Sleeveless is back in trend this summer, and so are low-cuts.
“Careful there,” he says when you hand brushes a little lower, just below the full-grain leather belt.
You hope your face isn’t steaming from the rush of heat but you manage to limit your emotions to a sound of discomfort, remembering the horrendous accusation he’d thrown at you. “I don’t care about your dick, twit.”
Jaehyun laughs, bending a little to whisper. “I wouldn’t mind if you did.”
“You look like you’re having a wonderful time making me uncomfortable.”
“You’re just so easy to work up.”
His dimples are getting on your nerves. You reach up to button his collar, perhaps a little too harsh because he chokes, an uncharacteristic sound leaving his mouth as he winces. You suppress a smile, glad you managed to do something about the look on his face.
The sunlight over this park feels like Christmas come early, with the way Taeyong is flitting from model to model and stylist to stylist with the intensity of a five year old after an ice-cream truck.
“Is he- Is he usually like this?” you ask, eyes on the makeup artist getting directions from Taeyong.
“I just assumed all of you are this way,” Jaehyun, responds looking at the same sight.
You roll your eyes. “We’re not all crazy.”
Jaehyun raises an eyebrow.
“Okay, maybe a little bit,” you correct yourself, watching Taeyong almost trip over someone’s bag in order to greet the magazine’s style director.
Jaehyun chuckles, eyes meeting yours for a moment before the two of you go about your own business.
You like magazine shoots for the most part. You never find a glass of water anywhere, but some intern or the other will definitely be there to fetch you Starbucks. There’s at least three people fussing over each model and at least two exasperated photographers trying very hard to snap clean shots. The stylist and designer look as though they might explode any minute, although the relief on their faces after it’s all over is something worth looking at. The skies are so bright and blue, you think, for a cosmopolis. The trees and shrubs lining the park are in a state of tranquility compared to the chaos it encircles.
Magazines might not be as important in an age of social media advertisement, almost part of nostalgia now—but maybe some of you are not yet willing to deny kids the thrill of reading a magazine under their blankets in the middle of the night. It often gave hope to little boys playing dress up and little girls sewing their own clothes.
You’d forgotten just how exhausting shooting with magazines is. The models must be having it worse but their masks don’t come off easy. If you had ever underestimated their job difficulty, it comes back to throttle you at full speed every time you’re at a shoot.
Looking good in front of a camera is pretty damn hard.
They don’t even get to keep the clothes, unless some asshole of a designer decides to pay them in apparel instead of actual money. Most models leave New York in debt. Men are paid even less than women. You’re surprised Jaehyun is as celebrated as he is—or the fact that he was clever enough of a businessman in launching his own high fashion-themed restaurant. You’ve heard he barely visits it, like a careless afterthought. But you’re not one to get carried away by sketchy articles on the internet. All you’ve needed are more reasons to hate him.
You sip the iced coffee, its effect pretty much worn out during humid afternoons. It’s time for a break, but no one’s willing to break momentum. You find yourself feeling a little awkward, as nothing more than a guest with creative advice, and so you sit under the comforting cool of the giant green umbrella at one of the tables. You could sink into your chair were it not so damn uncomfortable.
Jaehyun takes a seat right beside you to your surprise, offering you a box of diced mango before you fervently decline. You still think he’s an asshole. It doesn’t make any sense—why accuse you of unsaid affections and then flirt with you like he never said it? It’s not like you’re even friends, how ridiculous. There are quite a few jerks you’ve met in your life, but Jung Yoonoh really takes the cake.
“What?” you snap when his gaze gets on your nerves.
“I didn’t say anything.” He raises his hands defensively, eyes still on yours. “You don’t seem to be enjoying yourself.”
“I enjoy the air conditioned suite Taeyong booked me more than this, yes.” You sigh, leaning back. “I don’t really have anything to do.”
“I’m assuming he booked you the luxury suite on the fifteenth floor,” he says, chuckling.
You furrow your eyebrows. It’s not impossible that Jaehyun knows Taeyong’s favorite suite to book for guests.
“The view’s pretty nice from there, right? Oh, and you must be enjoying the silence.”
“I actually like the outside sounds,” you defend. “It’s calming.”
“Not when you’re on the third floor,” he says, shoving a piece of mango into his mouth with a fork. “All you hear is middle aged men screaming.”
You rest your elbow on the table, placing your chin against your palm. The shade is separated from sunlight by a thin line against his chest, pale blue satin glimmering where the sun meets it. Jaehyun’s eyes shine a darker hue of honey under the shade, moving to the box in his hands occasionally before trailing back to the background noise again. Taeyong really does love pretty fits, but this might just be one of the most gorgeous pieces you’ve seen this summer (and you’ve already been through all the ready-to-wear lookbooks you possibly could). A thought passes you in a breeze, that maybe it's the model making it seem that way.
“You’re talkative today,” you note quietly, the sun harsher on your cheeks than before.
Jaehyun shrugs, hurrying to finish all the pieces. He suddenly pulls a face, one you don’t see very often in high fashion websites and Instagram pages. It’s almost cute.
“Sour.”
You find yourself laughing, a gentle influx of peace filling the inside your chest. You quickly recover, looking back up to see Jaehyun simply staring at you, breathing. He looks caught off-guard, no camera to warn him. You straighten, your cheeks flushing with heat.
“Is- Is something wrong?”
He immediately shakes his head, more to himself than you. There’s a pause before the two of you are happily distracted. The style director appears to be gesturing at him from the other side and Jaehyun responds with a curt wave.
“You’re doing two different concepts today?”
“Three, actually.”
You raise your eyebrows. Well, they’re definitely taking advantage of the good weather. They could just photoshop it, in your opinion, but authenticity is everything when it comes to magazines nowadays.
“Well, don’t let me hold you back,” you say, your tone dismissive. “Go get changed into whatever pretty shirt Taeyong has up next in his collection.”
“The next shoot doesn’t have a shirt,” he says, the corner of his mouth quirked upward.
You almost choke on your coffee, blaming the heat for your weak state of mind. You’re just having one of those strange days—just that, nothing else.
You finish the rest of the coffee, cup resting in your hand till you find the energy to get up and find a trash can.
Jaehyun was right. This time the shoot’s a little too wet and a little too much skin for you to enjoy. The only thing added to Jaehyun above the waist are a dainty red scarf knotted over his neck and a small, flat hoop earring on his left ear. The velvet fingerless gloves, although you’re not very fond of them, complete a rather rugged yet soft look. You didn’t expect Taeyong to come up with something like that.
Jaehyun’s well-developed physique, while you’ve seen it in other shoots and online articles, is completely different when you’re a few feet away from it. The dark blue cargo pants, silken, are a signature style of Taeyong but the details don’t distract you easily enough. Funny, this is the first time you’re feeling somewhat flustered in a place full of half-naked models.
You suddenly think of reds and oranges, lilac shrubs and a hint of Burberry men’s perfume. In a way, it reminds you of the strums of the guitar your roommate used to play while you stayed up late, coming up with concepts. Cherishing, soothing—and special, just enough. The corner of your lips twitch and you take out your pocket sketchbook. It’s never too late to add a design to the collection, right? After all, you have secrets too. Maybe Taeyong was right about the outdoors for inspiration.
Something sets into motion, subtle but sharp.
The next time you walk into Taeyong’s studio, you feel the sun on your face better. Everything seems to be fitting into place, as you smooth through designs at a pace your student self would be jealous of. When Taeyong praises your work, you feel a rush of pride smearing the inside of your chest and you finally feel like everything’s not falling apart. It feels good. It feels like you’re someone.
The days go by in what seems like barely seconds—you know what they say about New York minutes. The mustard cloth draped over your desk to the cottage blue of your curtains, the colours around you change as quickly as the wind. Sometimes they’re abstract—and other times, well, they have more to do with a stranger’s eyes, or the swirls within a coffee cup. It’s the way in which transition occurs around you, that you often forget it moves something within you too.
You’ve put together some samples with Taeyong, most of them by yourself; the process of making is ever comforting, fabric even more so. You’ve sent the revised designs for production, feeling giddy about whatever is to come like it’s something new. (It shouldn’t be.)
You fucking hate how different this is. Seoul is nothing compared to New York. The anxiety is nearly ten times worse, the streets are far more attractive when it comes to inspiration and the figure of Jung Yoonoh is no longer as easy to ignore.
Even after the summer shoot’s over, Jaehyun often comes by to hang out at the studio, dressed in what you would call the simplest fucking thing you’d ever seen and still managing to look just as gorgeous. He blends in well with university students, often wearing the ugliest baseball cap you’ve ever seen, and the look of his face feels much, much worse than ever before. It’s at ease, smug even, but never failing to smile at you when you’re trying to focus. You don’t care how good of friends Taeyong and Jaehyun are—you want to tell him to leave.
But you just can’t bring yourself to. It’s not that you don’t trust yourself, you certainly do, but whatever New York has done to you, includes making you feel a different way about him. Sometimes you find yourself pressing your legs together harshly, stiffening at any proximity with him and a pool of warmth at the base of your stomach you’d rather not feel.
It’s embarrassing to even think about it—the fact that he makes you feel that way, so hot and bothered like it’s your first time. You blame your lack of going out these few months because after all, anyone could fall in love with runway faces. It doesn’t have to mean it’s him you want. You carry on doing what you’ve been doing for the most part of your career, your best to avoid him. There are more pressing matters, and your head might just implode if you keep on worrying about things (a man, of all) you need not.
Time passes even faster when all your thoughts revolve around the same thing.
One month. D-30. Whatever the hell you call time before the end of the world.
Your palms sweat a whole lot easier here. It’s a little weird, considering you don’t find much difference in humidity between Seoul and New York. Your heart often catches up in your throat too. Not a great feeling, your heart choking the breath out of you, but you’re used to it. You cope and you learn, that’s what it means to be human.
You pull your hand down before it reaches your teeth. The day ended in a meeting with Taeyong’s production team—everything’s running smoothly so you need not worry, he said.
Why are those the words that make you worry the most?
You check the time on your phone. 23:05 and a whole month to go. You better get some sleep for all the meetings you have scheduled tomorrow. You close your eyes and for a while, everything falls quiet.
You dream of New York Fashion Week. People come here to feel included. Everyone wants to be a part of something they don’t understand.
The models walk down the runway in increasingly uncomfortable outfits. You didn’t design any of them. Where are the ones you worked on? You can’t move from your seat, or turn your head from the runway, anything at all. Something’s wrong, everything’s wrong. You don’t belong here. Thunder strikes outside the venue and you wake up with a gasp caught in your throat, and the clock on the bedside table flashing 2:14.
You’ve had enough. You swear you’ve had enough.
You get up out of bed, pacing the giant bedroom, the empty spaces making you feel more and more miserable. The city twinkles with innumerous stars beyond your window, curtains half drawn so they can comfort you whenever you need—but these lights don’t shine for you, or anyone else. They shine for themselves. That’s what it means to be in New York again.
What time is it in Seoul? Could you call your mother? Joohyun? Everyone must be busy right now—you don’t know what to do. It’s been a long time since you’ve felt so helpless. There’s a reason you’ve been avoiding New York for this long and now it’s come crashing down on you.
This was a mistake. All of it was a mistake.
You look down at your phone, the light hurting your eyes despite being set to the lowest brightness. You think a little, and then some more. There’s no one else you can call. Even if he’s busy charming all the other employees whenever you see him, even if half the world is in love with him, there’s no one else you can call. This time you don’t stop yourself.
You tap the call button beside the Jung Yoonoh saved neatly. Tapping your foot against the floor nervously, your mind goes blank for a few seconds or so. He answers when you’re just about to hang up, breath hitching in your throat at the sound of his voice.
“Hello? Hello? If this is a reporter—”
“It’s me, Jaehyun.”
The line goes quiet for a moment and your voice overlaps his before he can begin.
“I- I didn’t mean to call so late. Sorry…uh.”
You scrunch up your face at your own voice. This is not getting you anywhere.
“Is everything okay?” he asks, voice lower.
You fall silent, unable to answer without breaking down into tears. You did not call Jung Yoonoh for that.
“Yeah,” you choke out. “Fine. Completely fine. I just…”
You trail off, trying to get yourself to breathe.
“I’ll send you an address. Be there in an hour.”
You blink back tears, confusion adding to the burning pile of worries inside your head.
“What?”
“Address. I’ll text you. Be there. One hour.”
“I’m not stupid, Jaehyun,” you snap, strength refilling your voice. “Why?”
“I’m not answering questions, just be there.”
With that, the line goes flat and an embarrassing amount of ‘hello’s get you to realize that he hung up. A notification pops up a minute later and you’re too groggy to decipher it, logging it to Maps instead so you can follow. It’s fifteen minutes away, you realize with a sigh of relief, so you can at least present yourself within the given constraint.
You can’t grasp what you feel in the moment, the night air and warm streets beckoning you to leave the clamped apartment soaked in fear. You think this is unlike Jaehyun, what he’s doing, but you’re too shaken to care. You need some respite, even if it comes from somewhere you can’t picture.
“You…wanted to meet me at a Korean barbecue restaurant?”
Jaehyun’s ears turn red, as they often do when he doesn’t know how to respond to you.
“I-It’s not that I…Never mind,” he tries to explain, fidgeting with the cloth over his shoulder. “We can go somewhere else if you want.”
We? You think, eyes scanning his face in confusion. If you want? Where’s the uncaring Jaehyun you’ve known, foreign eyes and impassive lips? He hardly looks the part he’s meant to play—a billboard face with a confident jawline and nothing more behind it. Outside of work—you don’t even know what else to call this—Jaehyun looks hardly intimidating, or abrasive. He seems different, gentle almost, although the dark circles under his eyes might have something to do with it. Maybe he’s too tired to say anything more and that’s it.
But he still came all the way here.
“Aren’t you a little…overdressed?”
There comes the remark you were hoping to not hear. You just wanted to look nice; you’d hardly call this overboard. The loose, mustard-colored chiffon shirt cinches at the waist, paired with your nicest (only not faded) pair of light blue jeans and shoes that haven’t seen the light of day since you arrived here. You barely ever design clothes for yourself anymore but you thought you looked good in this.
“No,” you defend quickly, feeling your face grow warm. “You’re underdressed.”
You say that, but he clearly looks good in anything he wears. Could you expect any less of a supermodel? He doesn’t seem to have dressed in as much a hurry as you had. Clad in a plain black T-shirt that’s half tucked into skinny jeans, he’s added his hideous baseball cap and a pair of navy blue shades which looks just as ridiculous as it sounds. You really think he shouldn’t be leaving his house without the help of a stylist.
“I…I just mean you don’t wear anything other than the same sweater and pants combination to work, so… please excuse my surprise.”
Jaehyun's eyes flicker over your figure before masking it with an awkward cough. You reach out and pull the shades over his head, the look bothering you more than anything else. He doesn’t respond to it, at least not in a way that’s obvious, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world to do—you fixing his hair and unquestionably awful sense of style.
“There’s a soju place a few blocks ahead. Or if you’re not into that, there’s a noodle shop just at the edge of K-town,” Jaehyun rambles on, not meeting your eye. “If you’re looking for something inexpensive—"
“You came all the way here to give me directions?” You raise an eyebrow. You might even be enjoying this, although your inner voice bites back at you, denying it.
Jaehyun shakes his head, the red in his ears pulsing back up. “No. I…I needed some fresh air.”
“You…have someplace to be then?”
Jaehyun might not realize it, but the answers he gives always have room for teasing. Aloof. Vague. Yet somehow sweet.
“And you’ll go alone? At this hour? No, I’ll accompany you,” he says out loud, trying to play off the sudden vocal inflection. You sigh. Boys will be boys, as they say. Even if they’re twenty-six.
You let him keep you company. Though the first few minutes are painfully quiet, neither of you knowing quite what to say without starting a disagreement, you continue your walk through a city that never sleeps. It’s awkward even, being side by side without you seething at his charming, (undoubtedly) fake smile. He feels real, for once, and you don’t know how to react. There seem to be some gold-tinted cracks appearing in your reality, slowly but surely, and you’re not very good at patching anything other than fabric.
“You know, it’s actually a little relieving to see Korean letters here,” you say, sighing. You never thought you’d be so corny, but it really does feel good being here.
Or is it him?
“Thanks,” you add quietly, hoping he doesn’t hear. No, maybe you do. You can’t tell at this point.
“I…I know what it’s like,” he says, so softly that it almost gets carried away by the wind. He clears his throat, an ‘ah’ escaping his lips as he stops abruptly.
“We…We missed the turn,” he declares, a little sheepish as he scratches the back of his head.
You look at him in disbelief. “Jaehyun, how long have you lived here?”
“Oh, I was born here actually,” he says, tilting his face to look at you, blunt sarcasm evident on it. “How many times have you lost your way to the convenience store in Seoul?”
“Literally zero times.”
Jaehyun puffs a cheek before going back to normal and turning a hundred and eighty degrees down the street.
“Hey, wait up!” you huff at his increased pace, half jogging to keep up.
You reach the acclaimed noodle shop, your breath barely within your lungs and swearing at Jaehyun who looks like he wasn’t bothered one bit. He reaches his hand out to help you and you swat it away, chest still heaving with your hands on your knees.
“Dickhead,” you hiss.
“I don’t think I deserved that,” he responds with a widening smile.
“Asshole,” you say, standing up straight to glare at him.
“What would Seoul say hearing their beloved designer swear like this?” Jaehyun looks almost amused, as if you hadn’t shared an awkward time together, like two teenagers who were forced to walk home together from the bus stop.
“They can go to hell,” you retort. “As can you.”
Jaehyun laughs, a strange sound to hear and you blink a few times, unsure of what to do. You wonder if it’s the night playing tricks or if Jaehyun really is an actual person, not the basket of preprocessed insults you were used to. The cracks are widening—you’re not sure if they’re meant to be patched.
Perhaps you were a little eager to enter someplace warm, but you feel immense relief in this little shop, despite the smell of chili paste and noodle soup wafting through the air. It’s a little empty; in fact, you two seem to be the only people there apart from some students at the other corner, but you sit there in your own bubble, talking with Jaehyun of all people about which singer is better. He laughs occasionally, still managing to catch you off-guard with how honest it sounds and you wonder for a moment, how nice this feels. For the first time in a month, your heartbeat seems to have settled at a normal rate.
“What?” you enounce, a little offended. “What’s so wrong about my love life?”
“You just- You just don’t seem that type,” he explains, his ears as red as the bowl.
“I don’t have time for commitments, Jaehyun,” you sigh. “It’s what happens when you’re good at your job.”
Jaehyun nods, something akin to agreement in his response.
“So, your, uh, what is it? Training camp? What’s that about?” you ask, in between blowing your food.
“You could really Google things once in a while, you know?” he replies, bringing his chopsticks close to his mouth.
You roll your eyes. “I’m sorry I’m not one of your creepy stalkers, Mr. Jung.”
“Nothing to do with that,” he says, shaking his head. “It’s for kids interested in fashion, modeling, photography—stuff.”
“Oh? How so?”
“I just sponsor them. You know how difficult it is to get noticed in…this industry,” he explains, like it’s not a big deal. Nothing ever seems to be a big deal to him.
You nod, unable to help the smile. Maybe it isn’t a big deal, but you’re sure now that you were mistaken. Just a little bit.
“I was lucky,” you mumble. “I can’t believe they saw those ugly embroidered patches and decided to sponsor me, oh my god. That sweater was hideous.”
Jaehyun laughs loudly. “They saw me cleaning outside my school and decided to pick me up and ship me straight to Paris.”
“Nothing’s worse than the first day.” You take another mouthful, the taste savoury and filling.
“You know, I’m pretty sure they photoshopped my ears out in the first magazine shoot I had.”
You laugh, leaning in a little closer. “Your first year was rough, huh?”
He hums, his eyes flickering from your nose to your lips. It makes you a little self-conscious, blood rushing to your cheeks at an unexpected pace. Who knew Jaehyun could have such an effect on you?
Your eyes flutter over his face once again.
He’s handsome. But it’s the sort of handsomeness that tells you, you don’t know much beyond it. You look back at your bowl, sobering up and completing the rest of the noodles.
It’s still midnight blue in the faraway sky as you walk down the streets. Most of the people you see out and about are those drunk off their faces from club hopping or a particularly enthusiastic group of tourists. The watermelon soju, while better with budae-jjigae and arguably the best soju flavor, somehow had little effect on you with the bitter aftertaste still settling in. The crowds in other places would make for great people-watching but you walk in a lonely street that calls for proximity. Beside you, Jaehyun sneezes, the sound of it making you jump on the quiet sidewalk.
“Jesus Christ, Jaehyun,” you huff, wincing at the sound, “you sounded like a fucking tractor.”
Jaehyun laughs, looking down at the pavement. When he looks back at you, the circles underneath his eyes seem to have darkened and you wonder if yours are the same. Yours can’t possibly be as important as his, though, and you wonder if it’s appropriate to laugh at how dorky he looks.
You find yourself not wanting to walk back into the safety of your suite. Jaehyun has a look of calm across his features, drawing over the landscape around you. New York lights don’t faze him, they only reflect in his eyes.
The way his soft breaths fan out against his lips remind you that he is human, after all—he has a soul and body, thoughts and its beautiful intricacies. When he turns back to you, you feel those criminal feelings all over again, except this time it’s even louder. It feels so wrong, and yet you can’t help but think of the liberation that could come with his lips on yours.
You could swear out loud, all the colorful words ready at the tip of your tongue.
“Your collar’s…”
Jaehyun’s voice trails off, his hand moving to fix your flipped collar, and when the heat of his skin brushes your neck, you try to not think of where else his hands could be, his lips could be.
In fact, there’s a moment within where it’s perfectly reasonable for him to kiss you, the taste almost on your tongue. But Jaehyun moves away, an indecipherable look across his face.
“I should get going,” he says, “I have a- I have a shoot early tomorrow—today.”
You nod, cheeks coloring at your own unsaid thoughts. Just what have you done to yourself? Why is your skin searing, why does your stomach feel upside down and why were you so ready to give in to him? To Jaehyun? You’ve never felt want like this before, this need to press skin against skin in a manner so illicit.
You part with a short goodbye, the sudden loneliness in your path making you want to backtrack, ask if you can go somewhere else again—maybe there’s a club nearby so you can see him through a round of shots as you usually do. Maybe the bitter feelings will return then.
When you think of the words you exchanged over the course of so unusual a night—your former unforgiving words contradict you. You hate the realization but being so obscure in front of a camera doesn’t have to mean he’s pretentious. Maybe you were wrong. Maybe someday you’ll even admit it.
You feel a flash of heat in your face. You are not running to Jung Yoonoh—what an embarrassing thought. If the very core of your being isn’t repulsed by it, there’s something wrong with you.
There’s something definitely wrong with you, love.
You breathe sharply, trying to organize your thoughts. As if the paparazzi wouldn’t have a treat out of this meeting you had with him if they got to know. You’d better limit it to the only one.
You bite your nails out of force of habit. It’s not going to help. You know. But there’s hardly anything else to cool your nerves.
Front row tickets to New York Fashion Week—the most mortifying dream out of all the ones you’ve ever had. The way Taeyong fidgets, you want to believe he’s in the same boat as you—it makes you thankful even.
Even outside of New York, Lee Taeyong is known for booking out exclusively intimate spaces. There are some props for the pre-show photography, including inked sketches on giant vertical banners stuck to the walls and tables with a messy collection of coffee cans, pencils and a sewing machine. Diverse types of fabric roll off the table in long strips, gently lining the floor till they end midway to another table. It’s a mess—a mess you made look good.
You’d left that and the backstage behind now. All eyes are on the sparsely lit runway, your aspirations coating the air in a thick veil. Are you ready? You won’t know till the first model steps out and till you can elicit a response from the audience.
Jaehyun’s at another venue—career before friendship, or, heaven forbid, attraction. You’d seen the fitting, cape skirt doing daringly well with his long legs clad in black pants, and a classy vest over a ruffled white shirt. You hate seeing other designs before a show, but god, were you glad you’d visited Givenchy to meet Johnny.
But you’re relieved even, that Jaehyun isn’t here. You don’t have the strength to face him anyway, all your energy directed into this chasm of whatever you’d call six months of effort. You want to call yourself accomplished. You want to be proud of yourself.
So this time, you remember all twenty-six minutes of it.
God, they look so beautiful up there, when they’re being looked at, seen for what they are—you’ll never get over it. There’s still hardly much to remember, except this time you’re happy to do it all over again. Effort only exists if it’s acknowledged.
It settles in quite a while later, the weight of all you’d done. You could almost cry, but that’s better left to pillows and the unrelenting skies above a midnight-coated rooftop. This is your moment. For once, you’re anything but afraid.
Afterparties are still not your thing.
However, you had your nicest outfit picked out and Lee Taeyong’s fancy, themed afterparties are something notorious among your colleagues. You’ve heard designers tend to go all out, wearing the best things they’ve designed even if it makes them a little embarrassed to be wearing their own work.
You feel a sigh leave your lips as you finally find a place to sit, your earlier conversations leaving you drained of social energy. You don’t feel alien—it’s strange—and their compliments feel almost warm. The music playing over the speakers is something, you’re sure, from a 60’s American movie, and while it has its own strange allure, the champagne gives you a larger dose of relief.
In fact, if you’re not mistaken, it’s quite like the ballroom in Paris, although significantly smaller. Burgundy wallpaper and lit up crystals hanging in hexagonal shapes across the ceiling—it’d look lovely on a dress too.
Taeyong’s speech, of course, gives you a spike of anxiety with the sudden announcement of his label’s future, a brand now. He smiles on the small podium, everyone admiring his radiance when suddenly he gestures at you, the glass in your hand feeling hotter and hotter.
“…I couldn’t do this without the only designer I felt was up to this—the first designer to work under my brand, as of now…”
You try not to blush under all the pairs of eyes that turn to you.
“(name), thank you.”
Success feels good. Gratitude feels even better.
Everything feels natural, as if a dream gone right. You’re no longer afraid of the world you stepped into, or the accumulation of feelings that molded you into the person you are now. The confidence you so chased after as if it were morphine, you’re going to be keeping an eye on it before it can run away again.
There’s still one little problem to your night of triumph, though.
Jaehyun hasn’t taken his eyes off you ever since you entered, a conversation yet pending. You already know he looks good in the plainest of T-shirts, so it might be a no-brainer that he looks absolutely stunning in a suit. The crystals lining the lapels of his coat glimmer amidst the crowd he’s gathered. It’s hard to come in contact, however. He’s magnetic, almost formidable in the way he attracts attention, and you know it’s something that comes with being a man of few words.
“You’re not enjoying the party?” you ask, taking in Jaehyun’s figure on the veranda overlooking the garden. He sits on one of the mahogany chairs, swirling the glass of champagne with a look of indifference coating his eyes and lips.
“I am,” he says, turning to face you. “Needed a short break.”
“I suppose being the most attractive man in the room needs a break,” you say, taking a seat beside him.
A wry laugh leaves his lips, as he lays his eyes on you. “You don’t seem bothered by it though?”
“I believe that pretty is as pretty does,” you say, your lips twitching.
Jaehyun smiles, furrowing his eyebrows yet still. “You think multimillionaire companies are built on things like inner beauty?”
He’s right. What’s inside is beautiful—it’s too idealistic a phrase. You sigh, adjusting your sleeve. It’s a difficult life, walking the runway no one dares to step on.
I think you’d make that cut too, you want to tell him.
“You know the best thing I got told today?” you ask, diverting the stream of conversation. You think he’s a friend. Even if it could be the champagne talking. Even if you want something more than the innocence of friendship.
Jaehyun raises an eyebrow. “Did Cristóbal Balenciaga’s ghost show up to compliment you?”
“No,” you emphasize, laughing at his pronunciation. “It was this girl. A student. Said she wrote an essay about me.”
Jaehyun hums, dimples marking his cheeks. “I didn’t know a student could get you so giddy.”
You laugh, looking down at your hands before resting your gaze on him again. He leans forward in his seat, strands of hair falling over his face from the rest and a contemplating look over his features. He looks much, much different from when you first saw him, and even handsomer, if that were possible. He’s grown up from the awkward boy you saw in the press release pictures of the Saint Laurent Fall Collection—he looks sharp and valiant on front covers, his shoulders broad and his eyes darling. Jaehyun is still unironically the most breathtaking man you’ve ever met. He might even be one of the sweetest, inside out.
You look to his lips, full as ever. Perhaps you have something to confess. Secrets aren’t meant to be kept so long.
“Jaehyun,” you call, bringing his attention before faltering. It’s not like you’re the only one fawning over his smile. You get up instead, excusing yourself. “I’ll see you inside I suppose.”
“You know I like you, right?”
You turn around. “What?”
Jaehyun gets up, brushing his suit and fixing the lapels. The gentle night haze and the contrasting calls of the brightly lit party inside brush over an effect you’ve never felt before. “I…I like you. It’s pretty straightforward, I think.”
You deny it, or rather, some repressed little emotion inside you denies it vehemently. “Jaehyun, really. I admit I was a complete asshole to you and- and...it was…kind of you to accompany me that night but—”
“Stop. Don’t- Don’t call that kind. You’re not seeing the full picture.”
You stand there, unsure of what to do as you feel your chest grow warmer. Jaehyun turns his head upwards, letting out an audible breath. You can see conflict on his face, the struggle of someone still mulling over the perfect words.
“I don’t hate you. I never really hated you even if I wanted to.”
You suppose it wouldn’t be the right time to say that you might have indulged in that.
“I did,” you confess. “I hated you for a very, very long time, Jaehyun.”
“I know,” he whispers, looking straight at you. “I didn’t mean to leave you hanging—”
“Jaehyun, I don’t care about that,” you say, your voice rising, “You told me you felt suffocated in bow ties and laughed when I asked if you wanted to run away with me. I just ended up thinking you were a goddamn liar.”
“Fine,” he says quietly in his baritone timbre, sounds of the chatter from inside numbing away. “Then let me be honest.”
“When I met you, I thought there was someone like me doing just the same—so…suddenly in the midst of everything. Even if you were a complete asshole to me. You were still real.”
He phrases it delicately, lilting, as if that hasn’t been your whole purpose here. He’s only a breath away from you, but you don’t want to push him away this time. There’s a moment’s pause.
“Between work and myself, which is more important? For once, I thought I could answer that question.”
Your breaths are soft and shallow as they fall, trying to understand his words.
“And then you just fucking stopped. You stopped flying out and I’d barely see you outside of Seoul like you- like you gave up or something. I didn’t understand—what happened to you?”
Jaehyun looks at you with a hardened expression, ears turning red as if he hadn’t expected this outburst of truth. He gulps, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. It’s not like him to open his mouth and let out words that are raw and honest; it makes you feel the weight even more. You were still kids that night. You’re not anymore.
“Jaehyun,” you whisper before reaching your hand out and placing it against his cheek.
It’s so hard to not take in the details. The prominence of the muscle by his mouth when he speaks, the fine lines by his nose which appear sporadically or the look of complete reverence in his eyes when he’s staring at you like this—everything those runway shots can’t possibly capture. Your eyes trail to his lips, your own drawn to it with a desire you don’t know how to comprehend—and don’t quite wish to, either.
You want to believe he made the first move but you give in so easy, it’s alarming. Your lips move against his in a rhythm new and frantic, his hands gripping you with full strength at the waist and you part your lips to allow a deeper kiss. Your hands are free to roam his perfectly styled hair, tousling it in a fashion that makes him groan, only to push you harder against the wall.
“I should’ve- I should’ve let you kiss me that night,” he mumbles against your lips. “Maybe I…I wouldn’t have made you hate me.”
“Maybe you should shut up and kiss me right now,” you respond, your tongue pressing against his, effectively doing the job.
It’s not difficult to see stars when his hips press against yours, his hand resting on one thigh to pull it up slightly. You feel the impact of it head-on, almost moaning out loud when his fingers press harder against the back of your thigh.
“Tell me- Tell me you want this,” he breathes out when he breaks the kiss.
You respond with reconnecting your lips, your tongue sliding against his in fervent affirmations. You’ve already forfeited your modesty, there’s no reason to stop.
You leave early, getting into the car you’d booked for the night. It would be far more embarrassing were it not for the separation between the front and backseats, when Jaehyun’s hands are up your clothes and his lips rough against your neck. The lip colour has smudged by the side of Jaehyun’s lips, a short giggle escaping you when you notice. It’s not enough to halt the kissing, or feeling each other up —something that feels long overdue. You try to keep your sounds to a minimum but Jaehyun seems to not care about things as worthless as shame, at least for the moment.
“Well, you’re about as graceful as a sea lion when you’re off the runway,” you hiss when Jaehyun’s teeth prick your skin.
“I haven’t done this in a while,” he responds in a low tone, the rest of his retort pushed away by his lips against your mouth.
You don’t have time to take in the details of Jaehyun’s apartment because he’s already carrying you to the bed, your legs around his waist and continuing to kiss you as if making up for something. All those years, you could have been doing this. Maybe you do have some regrets.
The material of his dress shirt feels expensive but clothes are not what you need right now. His phone rings once but he drags a finger over it to reject the call, his mouth still pressing against your collarbone. The only sounds you hear are rugged breathing and you fumbling with the buttons of his shirt as you pull it over his shoulders. The city lights below you reach through the drawn curtains, all the unrelenting complicacies left behind in those faraway streets.
Jaehyun makes a sound of annoyance at the phone ringing yet again. He breaks apart from you, receiving the call while his fingers massage his temple.
“Hyung, I’m fine. I’ll talk to you later—”
“I was just wondering where you disappeared and you don’t even grace me with a hello?” Johnny’s voice rings clear in the all too silent bedroom.
“Hyung—”
“Wait a minute.” There’s a pause within which Jaehyun seems to tense up. “Are you fucking? Like did you leave the party to get la—”
“Hyung. I’m hanging up.”
The coral pink spread over his ears is almost as pretty as the look of pure annoyance over his face.
“That—”
“Didn’t happen,” you complete, giggling. If someone were to tell you’d be seeing Jaehyun like this a few months ago, you wouldn’t know whether to be embarrassed or exhilarated.
You place your hand at the nape of his neck, pulling him into another kiss.
Sex is barely ever beautiful—even if it’s Jung Yoonoh over you, planting kisses from your mouth to jaw, neck to chest and whispering sweet, delicious words against each part. He certainly knows how to use that tongue of his, better than you’d expect from a boy so pristine.
It doesn’t matter if it’s not beautiful, when it’s just like a slow dance—in shared solace and love out of time. You bite your lips to stop smiling too often for it to feel as serious and indifferent as all the other times. Sometimes you feel Jaehyun grinning into the crook of your neck, the giddiness of love taking over the movement of your hips against his. The perfect anatomy of his, paired with his candied words makes you think that maybe you do fit together.
Jaehyun pushes into you at a steady pace, your fingers digging into his back and over his shoulder blades only to draw out sounds more pleasing to your ears. You let someone else take charge for once, his praising whispers of ‘that’s my baby’ or ‘you just look so good’ far too teasing but he follows through, your body barely able to respond apart from shaking and shuddering till you reach your high.
The sound of skin against skin dies down well into the night and you get cleaned, still blissed out from making the summit of all your senses. It’s warm inside, despite turning the air conditioner on.
“Jaehyun,” you call, lowering yourself to press a quick kiss to his lips.
“Hm?” He gives you a drowsy smile, arm under his head and hair sticking to his forehead funny.
“Did you really not hate me? Not even once?” You rest your cheek against your palm as you lie beside him.
Even under the dim lights, it’s not hard to spot the blush on him when he positively glows. Jaehyun reminds you of warm auburn and the touch of cool satin—it’s easy to make things, find inspiration in love.
“Oh my god, you were lying!” you accuse, sitting up straight. “There’s no way you didn’t hate me. I called your modeling as good as a coconut’s!”
“As you so love to remind me,” he mumbles.
There’s a brief moment before the two of you crack up, his deep laughter perfectly mismatched with yours. There’s hardly many sounds on the eighteenth floor, but maybe you’ve always been yearning for this privacy—this proximity in shared laughter and warm touches.
“No, I didn’t,” Jaehyun answers your question after it’s quiet once again. “I thought...I think you’re…”
Jaehyun trails off, his eyes flickering over your face before fixing on your lips as his own tug into a smile. He gulps. “I think we’d be in trouble if the paparazzi saw us throwing choice words at each other, don’t you think? You were barely out of school then.”
“Me?” You laugh. “You were thinking about me?”
“And a little bit about me.”
You fall asleep against Jaehyun’s chest with the certainty of kinder tomorrows, a thing he teaches you through whispers against the pillow and fingers playing with your hair. There’s something private in the way he holds your face, something delicate and homely running from his long fingers to his flushed knuckles and the rest of his hand as it presses against your cheek. It’s warm here, and safe, and maybe home is where the heart is, after all.
“Really? You’re not even a little bit sad I’m leaving?” you ask, placing your hand over your heart. “Who’s going to help you when you’re getting bullied in the workplace now?”
Doyoung huffs in annoyance, placing the box down beside the moving truck. “You’re the only one who bullies me in the workplace.”
You adjust the ugly baseball cap on your head, the one Jaehyun had pulled over your head in an attempt to stop you from complaining about his messy apartment. You hadn’t realized you’d worn it all the way to Seoul till the articles about your questionable choice of accessories had surfaced.
“Your boyfriend’s calling,” Doyoung says, making a face as he picks your phone up from the box near him. “I can’t even believe this. All those years of flirting and—”
You snatch it from him, glaring at him for the choice of words. He raises his hands defensively, rolling his eyes at your sudden movement.
“Are you sure you don’t want me flying to Seoul?”
“Unless you’re planning to work in a truck rental.”
You hear Jaehyun laugh on the other side of the line. Is it normal to have blood rush straight from your chest to your ears at the sound of laughter? You hope that doesn’t change.
You’d visited him a day before your flight. It hasn’t been all that long but Jaehyun certainly makes it out to be, just so he can use his cheesy one-liners. You try not to smile thinking about how he had flung his hair band out, immediately tousling his hair back into a pretty mess and struggling to keep a straight face when you’d visited out of the blue. Jaehyun wakes up at one in the afternoon when his schedule is empty and it had appalled you enough to help him out with basic chores before you left. (It didn’t end well. He kept putting his chin on your shoulder and sneaking his arms around you while you did the dishes.)
“(name)? (name), are you daydreaming again?”
You sigh. “You can’t wait three more days, Jae? It’s, what, one in the morning there!”
“Do you want me saying something cheesy?”
“Absolutely not.”
“I don’t think I can sleep without waking up to your face.”
You pinch the bridge of your nose, unable to grace him with a response. The dreamy languor in his voice is more than recognizable and if you’re not mistaken, he’s going to be saying something highly inappropriate.
“Do you know what dream I had last night?” he asks, the smile almost evident with how suggestive it sounds.
“Jaehyun, no,” you warn before lowering your voice. “I swear if it’s another dirty dream—”
“Come home and I’ll tell you all about it. With demonstrations.”
This time you can’t help the laughter, trying to mask it with a cough only to fail. You push the back of your hand against your cheek in order to soothe the involuntary blush. Your perfume smells just like him, and you realize suddenly why he’d gifted it to you.
“That definitely makes me want to leave faster,” you quip.
“I certainly hope so.”
It’s different now, especially if you remember your feelings just last February. Change feels easy for the first time in your life. You check off your list of items, counting the boxes as they’re lifted onto the truck. It took a good amount of thinking, and a bunch of fights before you could decide. New York isn’t so bad. Not when you have reason to be there. You’d like to call it love.
A list of things you do appreciate: Jung Yoonoh. Jaehyun. Whatever.
#jaehyun scenarios#nct scenarios#neowritingsnet#cznnet#jaehyun smut#nct jaehyun#nct imagines#jaehyun imagines#nct 127 scenarios#nct fluff#nct smut#nct 127 imagines#jaehyun x reader#nct x reader#jaehyun fluff#nct 127 x reader#really nervous about posting this bc it's so out of my comfort zone#anyway shoutout to bestdressed on youtube aka the only fashion vlogger who wouldnt bully me#reader has 'feminine' qualities but they have no explicitly stated gender so make what you will#moonwrites#tw: anxiety
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Why does everyone always recommend Twist and Shout for destiel? Like what happened in fandom at that time to make it so popular that it's now a staple? I haven't read it. I refuse. I know there is major character death and people complain it is OOC so I'm just wondering why do people love it so much? I have read so many long fics written by immensely talented writers in this fandom that end hopefully and tackle difficult subject matter while maintaining character voices that it seems a shame that T&S is always recommended
So, I also haven’t read it - I don’t do MCD, no matter how highly recommended a fic comes. However, here’s what I’d say in answer to this question.
Twist and Shout came out, it was during a period when the fandom was huge, and exploding. Season 8 was something of a Destiel renaissance (it’s when I started shipping it, for example) and it’s not a coincidence that a lot of the best known fic came out in 2012 and 2013 (for reference, T&S started posting on October 15th, 2012, according to AO3). I wasn’t active on AO3 Destiel fandom at that time (I started reading fic on FF.net in early 2013) nor was I active on Tumblr or in fandom circles where shipping was a big Thing, so I don’t know what the general fandom reaction to it was at the time, but presumably it met with a fair degree of popularity. People liked it. People recced it. I have no idea if it had the MCD tag at that time, but presumably it did. People read it knowing that. And presumably, some people didn’t like it, and some people didn’t rec it, but like any other fic it went through a process of developing popularity.
Why did it get to be first?
In my honest opinion?
Utterly random chance. If you look at ANY developing fandom, some of the trends are in fact totally random, at least to begin with. Once the avalanche starts, though, it’s self-perpetuating.
Think about it. You’re in a brand new fandom. You don’t know anyone. You haven’t read anything. You’re desperate to read something. What do you do? You go to AO3, find the ship you want to read, and you sort by most hits, or most kudos, or most comments, and decide - I’m gonna start by reading these. You see the first fic...okay, MCD, a little off putting...but it’s got SO MANY HITS and SO MANY KUDOS...just take the chance!
So, you (my hypothetical fan) read this fic. One of two things happen - you either love it or you hate it. If you hate it, you may not even finish it, but regardless, you’ve added to the stats - your views count, and maybe you liked the early chapters and kudosed, or maybe you remember everything you’ve heard about authors liking comments on early chapters of fully posted works, and you commented. So those stats have gone up, even if someone HATED it. And on the second, you love it - and you come out gushing! You kudos! If you’re super enthusiastic maybe you log out and give it a second guest kudos! And, as you start getting into the fandom and meeting people, you want to spread this love - you tell your friends - hey, I just read this great fic, and yeah, it’s MCD, but just give it a chance!
And so it begins again - if you tell four people, and they read it, and two hate it, and two love it, and those two tell four people, and two hate it, and two love it, and it just cascades.
Why is Twist and Shout the most popular fic in this fandom? Because Twist and Shout is the most popular fic in this fandom. Yes, it’s a tautology, but it’s entirely self-perpetuating. People read it because it’s listed first. People read it because they like it, and re-read it and re-read, and re-read it, to get that high. People hate read it. People read it just to find out what the big deal is. In a fandom with coming up on 100,000 posted stories, Twist and Shout has almost twice as many kudos as the fic in second (by the, in my personal opinion, far more deserving Annie D, though it’s also not their best work in my opinion, and the reasons it’s up there are likely the same), and almost four times as many hits. By any measure on AO3 surveys, it’s number one when people sort, and lots of people will read it simply out of curiosity.
That kind of popularity is self-perpetuating. And of course lots of people love T&S - it has 1.2 million hits, and almost 35000 kudos. Even if we go extremely conservative and say, 35,000 people have read T&S, that’s simply a shit ton of people, and if even only 10% loved it, that’d still be 3500 people gushing about that single fic. I’ve been writing for 5 years and I don’t have a single fic with even 3500 kudos, and I’m considered a relatively successful writer in this huge fandom.
But here’s, to me, the most important thing - I truly believe any fic can be a Twist and Shout. It’s a confluence of events that makes a fic such a juggernaut, and the vast majority are simply luck. Random drift means one fic is gonna end up on the top of the heap - and once a fic is there, reading tendencies, confirmation bias, and exposure guarantee it’ll STAY on the top of the heap.
I started the Destiel Favs Survey because I felt that the “top 20″ fics by hits in the Destiel fandom didn’t reflect the fics people actually like. I got curious, so I made a list.
In February 21st, 2017, the top 20 fics on AO3 by kudos were:
Twist and Shout by gabriel and standbyme (which, at the time, had 25,507 kudos)
Dean Doesn’t Listen to Eurythmics by Annie D
An Exercise in ‘Worthless’ by beastofthesky
Revealed by Valinde
Angel’s Wild by LimonadeGaby and riseofthefallenone
Into Your Hideaway by thepinupchemist
How (Thanks to Gabriel) Dean and Castiel (Accidentally) Raised Each Other (and Sam) by Vera_DragonMuse
A Room of One’s Own by NorthernSparrow
Out of the Deep by riseofthefallenone
Grey by Valinde
Convenient Husbands by Annie D
Forget-Me-Not-Blues by noangelsinthegarrison
When Charlie Met Cas by riseofthefallenone
Real Slick Dean by trilliath
In This Secluded Spot I Respond as I Wouldn’t Dare Elsewhere by RhymePhile
The Breath of All Things by KistmetJeska
Unfamiliar by riseofthefallenone
Shut Up (Put Your Money Where Your Mouth Is) by kototyph
A Hole in the World by AnnelieseMichel
A Beginner’s Guide to Communing with the Dead by suspiciousflashlight
Today, 1/9/21, four years later, the top 20 fics by Kudos are:
Twist and Shout by gabriel and standbyme (no change in rank, now has 34,907 kudos)
Dean Doesn’t Listen to Eurythmics by Annie D (no change in rank)
Revealed by Valinde (+1 in rank)
An Exercise in ‘Worthless’ by beastofthesky (-1 in rank)
A Room of One’s Own by NorthernSparrow (+3 in rank)
How (Thanks to Gabriel) Dean and Castiel (Accidentally) Raised Each Other (and Sam) by Vera_DragonMuse (+1 in rank)
A Turn of the Earth by microcomets/mishcollin (not on the old list by kudos, but it was on the list by 2018 when I did another check in)
Angel’s Wild by LimonadeGaby and riseofthefallenone (-3 in rank)
Into Your Hideaway by thepinupchemist (-3 in rank)
Unknown Quantities by xylodemon (the first work to break through, and it’s in tenth)
Forget-Me-Not Blues by noangelsinthegarrison (+1 in rank)
Grey by Valinde (-2 in rank)
Convenient Husbands by Annie D (-2 in rank)
Professional Couple Only by saltyfeathers (our second new work)
Real Slick Dean by trilliath (-1 in rank)
A Beginner’s Guide to Communing with the Dead by suspiciousflashlight (+4 in rank)
When Charlie Met Cas by riseofthefallenone (-4 in rank)
Unfamiliar by riseofthefallenone (-1 in rank)
The Breath of All Things by KismetJeska (-3 in rank)
Out of the Deep by riseofthefallenone (-11 in rank)
In 4 full years, only three works managed to break into the top 20, even though - based on my original data, which you can view here - most of these works have nearly double in the number of kudos they’ve had in that amount of time. Further, the most recently written fic on EITHER of these lists is from 2015 - A Turn of the Earth and Professional Couple Only are from 2015 - and all the rest is older.
These fics aren’t the top 20 because they’re better, and if there was even an ounce of objectivity in this list, it would have actually shown any change in 4 years instead of looking virtually identical.
Twist and Shout, and the other “most popular” and “most recommended” works in the Destiel fandom have that distinction because they’re the most read, so more people read them, so they’re the most read, so more people read them, so they’re the most read, so...ad infinitum.
And that’s not a judgement call against them! There are fics I LOVE on that top twenty list. But, dear anon, you ask me why I think Twist and Shout is the most popular?
All of this is why. Twist and Shout is the most popular because popularity in fic culture is the only perpetual motion machine in the universe. It is self-perpetuating, and as a result, Twist and Shout will always be the most popular fic in this fandom.
And that’s why I do the faves list - because the tops on AO3 tell us abso-fraggin’-lutely nothing, and I thought we needed a list that actually meant something for what fics people active in the fandom truly love - which DOES include some of those top 20 fics by AO3 data, and includes lots and lots of others that are just as or more wonderful.
*steps off soap box*
(sorry this is stupidly long, I have Opinions.)
#destiel favs survey#unforth rambles#spn#destiel#t&s has also due to this popularity#found itself in the unique position of being the only fic i know of in any fandom#that people feel critiquing and publically criticizing#it has grown so big it has surpassed dldr and people feel totally cool with trashing it#myself included#which makes it a fascinating and unique work in more ways than one#Anonymous
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Casual Intimacy (Mark Lee x you)
a/n : it’s my soft hours I guess? I made this sweet Mark Lee imagine (well for me this is sweet. I want a boy like this... if you’re that kind of man dm me 😜)
fluff, no warning, no suggestive content but kisses, and just Mark being a wonderful man for you.
Happy Imagining Mark Lee as your s/o!
People often ask you how you can hold on to your “plain” relationship with your current boyfriend. You seriously do not like them bothering you about your relationship life, but you need to deal with it considering the fact that the man you are dating is the famous Mark Lee of NCT.
He is dorky in camera, and in real life too. You pray day and night to the angels to make sure Mark is not tripping on some random stone or bump a pole. Guess your prayer works, when you see Mark always smiling in front of the camera coping up and working so hard with his endless job.
You yourself work in a famous two Michelin restaurant in Seoul. You’re not going to lie, you met Mark lee on your duty. NCT was holding their debut birthday and you were appointed as the chef to cook for their meal that night. Apparently, Mark Lee was super fascinated by your dish and he requested you to come greet the team when your job in the kitchen is done. Your head cook lets you leave your station once desert is prepared and the plates coming into the washing room is clean.
That was five years ago, Mark Lee got love struck by your simple but attractive persona. His eyes couldn’t leave you as you answer their questions on the dishes and you congratulating them. They’re glad when they learn that you listened to their songs and followed their schedules, just that you don’t have much time to be like the other wonderful fans.
Mark Lee looked so intrigued on you and as you bow to them bidding goodbye, he just returned from the restroom. With his long legs trying to catch his other brothers, Mark happened to slip his number on a piece of tissue paper to your pocket and gave you a genuine smile plus a “thank you”.
You earned a good pay that night and even better, Mark Lee’s number.
Well, he isn’t your bias but come on who doesn’t have Mark Lee in their bias list? Want it or not, conscious or not, Mark Lee is always in the list. So, that night when you finish showering and eating a light midnight snack, you gave the number a shot.
You thought your message will never be replied, maybe Mark will have his phone in silent and only opened up messages from his contact list. You’re lucky when your notification bleeped and from that night both of you learn more about each other.
He kept your number under your name, plain business people say, you also thought maybe he wanted to call you for another dinner party. But the chats he had been sending was far from platonic business. It involves jokes, puns, memories of living in Canada (well you graduated from University of Toronto, but cooking is your passion), and even deeper like late night talks.
The relationship got deeper when Mark Lee called you one night, asking if he can meet you in the restaurant. He said he needed a good meal to write a song he was assigned for. You found no correlation between a good meal and writing a song, but believe it or not, Mark Lee came with one of the hottest selling song that month. Earning him a title of “King of Lyrics”
Since then, he called you again and again when he didn’t have the idea to write. You finally invited him over to your house when you got closer. Mark got to eat in your small dining table with a simple dish that was made with love and care that Mark said tasted better than any other dishes he ever had.
You laughed saying he is exaggerating, but Mark never exaggerates when he is with you.
“Be my girlfriend will you?” he one night asked after you teach him how to cook a proper egg. Despite him succeeding the challenge back in 2020, he still needs practice. He succeeded cooking eggs after knowing you for more than a year.
“Suddenly Mark? After you can make a perfect runny egg?” you giggle but nevertheless nodded your head.
His smile that night was even brighter than when he received any awards and praises. His eyes spark joys and emotions uncaptured by cameras. The world never knows how Mark’s true happy face looks like, but if his world is you, then the world knows!
For the first two year of dating, both of you are keeping it low. Dates happen in your house (your wage is enough to buy you a house). You always cook him foods, tried new dishes to him, earned a lot of complains on how the food is not “suitable for Korean tongue” which you always shrug off because he himself is a mix.
But thanks to his constant brave inputs, your dishes are perfectly blended and well known. News media and TV shows started to cast you in their weekend shows. You were offered a contract of a cooking show in a known broadcasting company.
Mark told you to go for it. He knew how happy you are about cooking, and his faith told him “if that is what was given for you, go for it.”
He was right. The internet loves you, they love your simple but tasty dishes. Your show was ranked the hottest that month, famous for helping college student eat a more delicious food.
NCT even did a special relay cam for it, each group were doing a challenge on following your recipes.
Mark was caught off guard on that live shooting day. His team consisted of him, Ten and Johnny.
And you may guess, things went wrong but in a chaotic fun way. When the three of them are together, they just speak in English and forgot all of the filters they should have.
Mark spilled his relationship when he accidentally said out loud “Of course I know how to do that, my girl has been teaching me that.” Mark boasted when Ten asked if Mark could make the egg benedict for their dish.
Johnny and Ten froze on screen, well the NCT members knew your relationship with Mark but they kept quiet. Mark realized what he has said was recorded and forever lives in the web. The comment section went wild and the fans are thrilled about the “mysterious girlfriend Mark has”.
He eventually spilled the truth on a press conference. You were there beside him when he faced the board director and when he sit in front of different mics and cameras flashes. No one knows but throughout the time, when your heart is beating faster than when you took your SAT and final tests, Mark Lee held on to your hand whenever you are answering a question directed to you.
The magazines are taking the favor of the rising topic, inviting you and Mark to take a photoshoot. When you were insecure about taking a picture with him (who has did countless shoots), he squeezed your arm when walking past you and gave a small proud smile as he went to change clothes while you start your personal shoot. No one saw that, but his quick reassuring squeeze boosted your confidence that day and the couple shoot was very nice! You could print that as your wedding pictures!
When the internet goes wild when they connect the theories and Instagram posts Mark and you both made (fans are the best in deciphering codes!), you now walk through the streets crowded by fans. All asking how is it like to date Mark, but not few also told you to screw off. One day when you both are going back to Canada for a winter break, the fans are crowding the way. You gulped when you have to walk pass them, but Mark looked so used to it. He just chuckled and landed a small hand on the back of your waist. With the manager hyung and bodyguard pushing to make way, you made it through the crowd with confident steps.
On the Christmas dinner, Mark was invited to your family dinner and vice versa. You had to attend their family lunch and to say you were nervous was an understatement.
“Mark, what if they don’t like me?” you asked on your bus ride to his house from the airport.
Mark laughed, he always laughed as his first respond, “Baby, it’s going to be okay. Trust me.”
You snorted, “You calling me baby is already suspicious, for three years we dated you “dude” me 70% of the time, “baby” was only like 10%”
He did the math, “Then what’s the remaining 20?%”
“You just call me “Bro” for the res of them.” You squeezed his cheek and planted a kiss there.
“I like it though, not too cheesy.”
He grew red. “Gosh I am having the Jaehyun syndrome. Why are my ears burning?!”
He was not 100% wrong, his parents were nice they grew fond of you especially when you helped his mother prepared lunch. Well you both arrived earlier and you decided to give a hand for the busy mom.
Mark sat next to you on dinner and when you were diving into a yummy Christmas pudding, his parents began asking you the “platonic questions asked to your partner”.
You almost chocked on your pudding when they asked “Are you seeing a future with Mark? Can you make our son happy and us too?”
You were not ready, you expected questions like where you work or where you live. They said “We can find all that answers in the internet, but not the answer to our question.”
Mark’s gentle kick from under the table by your side made you looked at him and he gave you that sincere smile only you have the privilege to see. He nodded slightly and shot his eyebrow to his parents side “Answer them… I am also curious of the answer.”
You grew red, it wasn’t the drink or anything, but his parent’s happy and relieved face when you nod your head and said “I am seeing a future with him, if I get both of your blessing.”
They love you and Mark was right. That night, you invited his family to join your dinner instead. The same question was asked from your parents to Mark and Mark was more than ready to marry you.
But your wedding bells did not chime that fast. He has his career and so do you, both of you just keep the stable relationship going on. Together facing the problems and obstacles in your relationship. Fights occur, bickering occur, threads of breaking up also happened once or twice… but both of you used that to build a stronger bond.
You always melt when Mark came home from a long day. After he showered and savored his dinner, he always ended up leaning on your shoulder in the big snuggle sofa both of you never regret buying. His head on your shoulder, his hand scribbling words to a paper and you whispering ideas to him which brought a big smile to his face.
Writing lyrics has been even easier for Mark, he blended your frustration with his, splattered some love words, and voila a masterpiece! People said his lyrics were relatable and both of you always keep it to yourself that “those happened in our life, no wonder it looked real.”
He always kissed you gently on your lips, tasting the faint cherry flavour of your lip balm. Mark’s lips tasted of medical lip balm, but you love it nonetheless.
You blinked and realized the flashing cameras in front of you. Oh right, someone from the hot magazine company is asking you a question.
‘Can you please repeat your question?” you asked politely to the lady holding out a mic.
She quickly nodded, “A lot of fans are wondering If you are still in a relationship with Mark. Mark was busy for the last months with projects and comebacks. And the interaction update from both of you are little to none. Fans suspected you were over with him, considering that Mark looked like he is the “plain” type in a relationship.”
You pressed a smile, hiding your urge to laugh out loud. Weren’t the fans always picturing Mark as their dream boyfriend? Why did they judge him as the plain boring type then?
You clear your throat and while looking through the crowds, you spot Mark Lee seated in the crowd with a mask and a hat, giving you a nod, and you turned your mic on.
“We’re still going strong; well I think love is not the type of grand gestures or explosive displays.” You started off and caught everyone’s attention.
“It’s made up of little things,” you felt your heart clench upon remembering all the small affections Mark always did to you. “It’s the little things Mark Lee did that say he is here, and he cared for me and that my life has intertwined so deeply into his that there was no need to think.” You take a pause to look at the audience.
Everyone looked impressed, but amongst them you catch one pair of gleaming proud eyes, the pair of eyes you’ve been waking up to for the last years, and the one you want to wake up to in the future years.
“It’s Mark’s casual intimacy that made us both stay strong and stronger.”
Applaud was heard through the room, you were holding your press conference because you were retreating from all the cooking shows and rumor has it you are going to marry Mark.
“Please pray for both of us, as we will be tying our bonds soon.” You leave the room after a bow and the man with mask and hat is already waiting for you outside the big crowded function hall.
His hand naturally makes its way to your waist and you never felt more sure to step into life with this man you love, Mark Lee.
“That was wonderful (y/n)~”
You smile, he did not dude you nor bro you nor baby you. “I love you Mark Lee,”
He leaned in for a peck behind the tinted black van window, “I love you most (y/n) Lee,” he winked and you rubbed your cheeks “Guess I have the Jaehyun syndrome now! Also I like it when you call me with that name.”
He quirked his eyebrow and smirked, “Don’t worry, you’ll be hearing that soon for the rest of your life.” He reached for your hand and kissed the knuckles.
“I met you thanks to your amazing handy work in cooking unforgettable dish.”
You rolled your eyes, “You were so amazed on my egg benedict Mark! How is that an unforgettable dish?”
He shrugged his shoulder, “I don’t know, something about you, cooking, and love made me this love struck and awfully amazed by simple things you did.”
the end
thanks for reading, put in comments for I’d love to interact with you on the story plot .. rant to me what you hate or like idc :D i want to talk with my readers! to thank you all for reading and spending some time here
omg i didn’t know if I made the right choice of making Mark Lee as this character, but I want it to be him.. I’ve been writing a lot of Jaehyun and Yuta fic and I guess Mark can be a refresher. Please let me know if someone else suits this better!
#mark lee x you#mark lee x y/n#mark lee x reader#mark x y/n#mark x you#mark x reader#mark lee#mark lee imagines#mark lee scenarios#mark lee oneshot#mark scenarios#mark lee fanfic#mark lee fluff#mark imagines#nct 127 imagines#nct 127 soft hours#nct fluff#mark fluff
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hi! random question that you’re not obligated to answer (i just love your ka metas): do you think that aang acted like he was entitled to katara’s affection? sorry for the bother if this is a question you’ve gotten before, i’m just curious about your thoughts
Hi anon! It’s always lovely to hear people like my metas 💛 And you’re in luck - I have not gotten this specific question before, though I have answered similar questions, and as such I will probably link those posts throughout.
Forewarning: I use the general you very liberally in this post, so like. It’s not directed at you, anon djhskdjsajs I don’t want you think my sarcasm is in response to your ask (your ask was very lovely!! 💕)
Okay. Let’s get started! The funniest thing about the (nonsensical) claim that Aang acted “entitled” to Katara’s affection is that there is no canon evidence to support it. Opponents more often than not can only bring up one (1) episode as an example of supposed “entitlement” because no other Kataang interactions in the series demonstrate entitlement from either end! Like, wow. Talk about scraping the bottom of the barrel. And I’m sure we all know what episode opponents love to propagate, don’t we?
Yep, you guessed it: “The Ember Island Players.”
From the get-go, the fact that people who vigorously oppose Kataang essentially only appeal to the contents of one episode for Aang’s supposed “entitlement” is a major indicator that, in fact, the entitlement is not truly there, and that those opponents are actually misconstruing the entire episode. I mean, if you are trying to make an argument about something but you only have one piece of “evidence” to support your claim, then a) any half-decent teacher/professor would fail you, rip and b) that’s a sign that maybe your claim doesn’t hold water. If you can’t find evidence to support it, then you’re probably looking at your case from the wrong angle. Analysis 101.
As such, I find the “entitlement” claim particularly ridiculous because opponents repeat the same faulty rhetoric over and over! The only people that might be convinced are those with confirmation bias. I’m sure that’s their audience, of course, but it’s still hilarious dfjaksdasks.
Anyways. Here’s the excerpt from the EIP transcript that opponents l o v e to spotlight with their “entitlement” claims:
Aang: Katara, did you really mean what you said in there?
Katara: In where? What are you talking about?
Aang: On stage, when you said I was just like a… brother to you, and you didn’t have feelings for me.
Katara: I didn’t say that. An actor said that.
Aang: But it’s true, isn’t it? We kissed at the Invasion, and I thought we were gonna be together. But we’re not.
Katara: Aang, I don’t know.
Aang: Why don’t you know?
Katara: Because, we’re in the middle of a war, and we have other things to worry about. This isn’t the right time.
Aang: Well, when is the right time?
Katara: Aang, I’m sorry, but right now I’m just a little confused.
Aang tries to kiss Katara.
Katara: I just said I was confused! I’m going inside. [Exits the balcony.]
Aang: Ugh, I’m such an idiot! [Puts down his head on the balcony railing.]
Opponents claim Aang’s behavior is “entitled” here for two reasons:
1) He asks Katara several questions about their relationship status.
2) He kisses her.
Before I get too far into this, we have to consider the context of the episode. Katara and Aang have this conversation after just watching 95% of “The Boy in the Iceberg,” aka Fire Nation propaganda. I have talked about the specifics of the play being imperialist propaganda here, but the gist of it is that this play is meant to demean the Gaang, to portray them as lesser and weaker than the Fire Nation. The fact that the play ends with Ozai’s victory is a stark reminder of this mentality. So: Katara and Aang have just watched this play that preys upon their insecurities and paints them as awful caricatures of their true selves. It is only natural that they would be more tense than usual. The reason I bring this up is solely to inform their conversation on the balcony, however; I don’t think their frustration solely defines what they say/do, but it’s worth keeping in mind, “Hey, they’re stressed and upset, of course this conversation might not go perfectly.”
Now, I have talked about the infamous EIP kiss before and approached all the rhetoric surrounding it like Snopes Fact Checker in this post, lmao. I did discuss in there why the kiss is wrong, which no one has ever argued against, but also why the kiss is simply a mistake: not sexual assault, not entitlement, not an unforgivable decision. I’ve copied and pasted specifically my notes on the “entitlement” claim below regarding the kiss, but if you have time, I definitely recommend the whole post jksdhjasdka (I’m quite proud of it). Anyways! Here’s the excerpt:
Claim: Aang acted entitled to Katara and her affection.
Status: False.
I’ve briefly addressed this already, but Aang backing off when Katara pushed him away is the exact opposite of entitlement. An impromptu kiss is not always indicative of entitlement. It can be, especially if the person being kissed has never expressed any interest in the person kissing them, but Katara and Aang were mutually interested in each other. They’d mutually kissed twice already by that point: in CoTL and during DoBS. The EIP kiss was inappropriate. NO ONE HAS EVER SUGGESTED OTHERWISE. But when you’re 12 and you’re already kind of in this semi-relationship with a girl you’ve been through hell and high water with (who has kissed you twice on the lips and on the cheek multiple times, not to mention it is only you she ever expresses such affection towards), it is not fucking “entitlement” to make a move on her, even when the timing is off. IT’S JUST A MISTAKE. A POOR DECISION. NOT ENTITLEMENT. NOT MANIPULATION. NOT SEXUAL ASSAULT. Full stop.
Also, these EIP people love to call Aang entitled for this kiss, but there isn’t a single peep heard from them about Zuko’s line in TSR where he demands to know what’s “wrong” with Katara, since she hasn’t forgiven him yet when everyone else has. And look. I think Zuko was just frustrated here, and that he, too, made a mistake and is obviously not irredeemable for it, but. If you’re going to argue that Aang was entitled in EIP, you’d better be ready to acknowledge the argument that Zuko was acting entitled in TSR, too. And hell, let’s take it a step further! Call Aang entitled for EIP. Call Zuko entitled for TSR. Call Sokka entitled for choosing to stay at Boiling Rock on the off chance his father would arrive, thus making Suki and Zuko feel obligated to stay behind with him, effectively putting all of them in danger. What an entitled decision, risking his friends’ lives on the 0.01% chance Hakoda would be one of the many, many possible war prisoners arriving at Boiling Rock!
Damn. That sounds ridiculous as fuck, doesn’t it?
And guess what. That’s exactly how the “Aang was entitled” arguments come across. Hate to break it to you. Trust me when I say to do yourself a favor and stop perpetuating that faulty rhetoric!
So that is what I have already assessed, lol.
To be frank, the most frustrating thing I see perpetuated is that the EIP kiss somehow ruined Aang and Katara’s relationship. But when it comes to assessing weighty issues like the notion of “entitlement” in a relationship, the fact of the matter is that you have to look at both the relationship as a whole and the context in which it is situated. Opponents never want to do that, because doing so debunks their entire (baseless) argument, lmao. Katara and Aang are best friends. And by EIP, they have both expressed romantic interest in each other multiple times. (Here is a post explaining the development of Katara’s feelings for Aang, just to put out that fire before anyone sets it lmao.)
So why, why do opponents think Katara would never find it in herself to forgive Aang for a mistaken kiss? Katara is shown over and over again throughout the series to have one of the biggest hearts. She wants to see the good in people. That’s why she gives Jet a second chance (even though a person could argue he did not “deserve” one); that’s why she helps the Fire Nation village in “The Painted Lady”; that’s why she forgives Pakku (once she sees he’s willing to change); that’s why she is the second person in the entire show (excluding Iroh) to offer Zuko a hand of kindness (in CoD)! That’s why she eventually forgives Zuko, even after all he has done to the Gaang (e.g. sending an assassin after them, being complicit in Aang’s death, attacking her and kidnapping Aang at the NWT, manipulating her with her mother’s necklace, to name a few, lmao. bless his heart, but like Jet, someone could easily argue Zuko doesn’t “deserve” another chance - and yet Katara still gave him [and Jet] one. in fact, she gave Zuko multiple).
In other words, Katara is almost always willing to extend friendship and compassion and forgiveness to others - why would she revoke that privilege from Aang after a single error that is comparatively lesser to all the other horrible things she’s experienced in the war? Again, I’m not downplaying how terrible of a decision Aang made. It’s inexcusable. But it’s not the end of the world, and considering the context of the show (e.g. Aang and Katara liked each other and they both knew it), it’s… not some heinous crime. Compared to, oh, how about attempted murder? lmaoo
Even beyond Katara’s innate kindness, Aang is Katara’s best friend. She loves him. The show portrays it as romantic through the seasons, but even if someone isn’t into shipping (which is super valid), Katara and Aang’s connection is one of the primary lynchpins of the show! (The other being Aang and Zuko, the greatest foils of all time.) Katara and Aang epitomize several of A:TLA’s thematics (and aesthetics) because they are complementary: yin and yang, push and pull, Tui and La, moon and ocean, blue and orange, water and air. This gifset and related commentary beautifully demonstrate how even when Katara and Aang disagree, they respect the other’s the decision. So after 60~ episodes depicting Aang and Katara as having mutual respect and love for each other in every form as well as emphasizing Katara’s natural inclination towards kindness/giving people the benefit of the doubt, opponents still think Katara wouldn’t forgive Aang because of one mistimed, inappropriate kiss? What?? Make it make sense, lmao.
In sum, the kiss was a mistake, not an act of entitlement, and it’s absurd to think Katara would hold that against Aang for the rest of his life.
To backtrack a bit, opponents also love to use the fact that Aang asked Katara several questions about their relationship status as examples of his “entitlement.” Just typing that out highlights the ridiculous nature of this assertion, lmao! Let me rephrase it for maximum hilarity:
“Aang was unsure about where their relationship stood? Well, how dare he ask numerous questions to resolve his confusion!”
Like, what was the alternative jskfajksdas if you are in relationship limbo with someone, it is far better to ask them ‘too many’ questions for clarification than to simply assume one way or the other! Kissing Katara was wrong, flat-out, but asking her questions to better understand where they were in their relationship was like. exactly the right decision, lmao. I genuinely don’t see how that could be indicative of entitlement? Especially because, once again, Aang and Katara both like each other and they both know that by this point in the show. That’s why Aang doesn’t ask if Katara likes him - he knows she does. That’s why Katara doesn’t negate her feelings - she knows she’s interested in him, and the blockade between them is not a lack of reciprocation, but the fact that they’re “in the middle of a war” and consequently it’s not “the right time” for them to begin a relationship. Katara has seen Aang die before! She knows he’s facing a near-impossible victory! I can’t blame her for not wanting to start a relationship with him at that point. It would hurt twice as much to lose him again if they were together in a romantic fashion (amatonormativity, am I right?). Again, Aang’s kiss was entirely inappropriate, but him asking her questions about their relationship is a) an example of fostering healthy communication and b) what any therapist would encourage, lol.
Oh, but I’m “forgetting” something, aren’t I? Right. This line:
Katara: Aang, I’m sorry, but right now I’m just a little confused.
If we want to talk about parallels, which I know the A:TLA fandom adores, this line sounds suspiciously like:
Yue: … but I like you [Sokka] too much and it’s too confusing to be around you.
Yue and Katara are actually in similar situations here. Outside forces are interfering with their relationships; for Yue, there is her arranged marriage, and for Katara, it’s the life-or-death nature of the war itself. They aren’t confused about their feelings, as Yue knows she likes Sokka and Katara knows she likes Aang, but they are confused about how to reconcile those feelings with their external circumstances. And can you blame them for that? They are facing impossible decisions (the fate of their nation and the fate of the world respectively). I would be confused, too! So Katara’s response isn’t a reaction to any so-called “entitlement” from Aang; she is experiencing genuine confusion about how to approach her own feelings for him in the midst of a war.
In sum, Aang asking questions about their relationship was a logical step to take resolving his confusion and is in no way related to “entitlement.” Katara’s confusion was not “letting Aang down easy” and interpreting it as such requires disregarding every preceding line of the conversation and its context.
As you can see, Aang’s actions in EIP are not at all “entitled.” His questions were understandable. While his kiss was inappropriate and inexcusable, it was also a mistake, and there is no canon evidence to support the conclusion Katara would never be able to forgive him (her literal best friend!) for it.
Before I end, I’ll touch briefly upon the DotBS kiss, because it is also occasionally used as an example of Aang’s “entitlement” towards Katara’s feelings. Whether you like the trope or not, this moment falls under what is called the “Now or Never Kiss.” TV Tropes actually lists Kataang/DotBS as an example under the Western Animation tab:
“Avatar: The Last Airbender: The fact that he’s finally going to face the dreaded Firelord, and possibility that he might not come back alive from that battle, gives Aang enough motivation to kiss Katara.”
Again, whether you like the trope or not, it involves reciprocation from both parties:
“The Not-A-Couple [i.e. both parties] don’t want to go out without revealing how they [i.e. both parties] really feel. It’s now or never. They kiss.”
Katara and Aang both like each other. When Aang initiates the DotBS kiss, Katara kisses him back. Her lips are still puckered when he pulls away. Furthermore, Katara had initiated a kiss with Aang prior to this incident, in CoTL. Katara was also the one to initiate every cheek kiss with Aang (who is the only character she ever demonstrated such affection towards). So Aang kissing Katara during DotBS follows an established precedent of Katara initiating different kisses, romantically inclined, with Aang. It’s not entitlement; it’s him knowing they mutually like each other and him realizing this might be the last time he ever sees her. Again, you can hate the trope, but don’t blatantly misconstrue its meaning. You’ll sound like Fire Nation propaganda, lmao. (For clarification, jic: the general you. not anon!)
Here is a fantastic post by @imreallyhereforkataang explaining the DotBS kiss in more detail as well as discussing why Kataang’s progression in the second half of Book 3 was, in fact, well-developed, and how Katara and Aang are best friends above all else and know that (which was the core of their relationship from the start).
And a bonus fun fact: in the original storyboard (link takes you to storyboarder Giancarlo Volpe’s DeviantArt with said storyboard), it is noted that Katara smiles after Aang kisses her. Why? Because she likes him as much as he likes her! It was changed by a “higher authority,” according to Volpe, probably to add more realism to the romance (i.e. Katara likes Aang, yes, but as she herself points out in EIP - there’s a war going on, and love is always terrifying to reconcile with war).
(Seriously, though, do read Volpe’s description on the storyboard. Takes you a second to scroll down and maybe a minute to read. Short yet informative, discussing how you can see on the storyboard itself that someone revised the image so Katara isn’t smiling after the kiss.)
Anyways! Opponents’ argument that Katara wasn’t interested in Aang therefore is and has always been entirely inapplicable.
To conclude: the entitlement assertion is laughable. There is no canon evidence to support it. As such, I encourage you to laugh whenever you see it! Pull an Azula, for that matter:
[ID: Gif from “The Beach” episode of A:TLA. Ty Lee, mimicking a guy, asks Azula, “Hey there sweet sugar cakes. How ya likin’ this party?” Azula proceeds to burst into exaggerated laughter, earning stares from everyone else at the party. End ID.]
Thank you for the great ask, anon! Hopefully my response was satisfactory 💛
#surprise friends!! a kataang analysis!! i probably will not write any others until may 💀#kataang#kataangtag#aang#katara#atla#avatar the last airbender#atla meta#amy answers#anon#amy analyzes
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So here goes: Personally I find Paul to be hot with a beard. But it annoys me because there’s always some Paul stan who’s like “he was super depressed during that time you know” anytime someone says how hot he looks with a beard. Like first of all, I don’t think we should go around diagnosing people and assuming how he felt 24/7 just based on a couple of quotes when we don’t know him, and second of all I was just saying he looks good. Also idk why Paul stans want to pretend like Paul is STILL a victim when he’s definitely not. He’s a super successful billionaire musician. He’s fine.
I'm going to assume all four of these were from the same anon; I received another along these same lines that seems to be from someone else:
OKAY. There's a lot here.
As I've said before, I think the concept you are both talking about - that Paul is the favourite, that people will attack you if you criticize him, that people are vilifying John more now - is true, but is also a matter of perspective. I think sometimes we perceive the whole fandom as just the people we're surrounded by; that can be true in smaller fandoms, like for obscure shows or whatever, but for the Beatles, the fandom is so much bigger and more spread out across generations, social media platforms, and works of literature than almost any other fandom. There are literally thousands upon thousands of books either about or tangentially about the Beatles; there are pockets on every platform from tumblr to twitter to podcasts to instagram to facebook etc., and it branches off even more niche within those to like, facebook groups specifically for podcasts about the Beatles, or discord servers, or livejournal threads, or music forums, or fics on ao3. There are fansites with thoughtful speculative articles like heydullblog and blogs specifically reviewing Beatle books like beatlebioreview and sites cataloging every bit of minutiae like the Beatles Bible, all with their own flavor of comment sections. And not only that, the Beatles fandom spans generations and cultures in a way that almost nothing else ever has or ever will.
And this is not even going into the shifting narratives that have been in play over the years surrounding Paul specifically, and the huge, huge difference between the perceptions of him by the authors and the Counterculture People, the perceptions of him by regular ass Wings fans who have only idly flipped through Rolling Stone while waiting in line at the local bodega, and the perceptions of him by everyone in between, who may or may not have been unconsciously influenced by the wider narratives about him.
All that is to make the case that the fandom that you are experiencing on tumblr/twitter is an extremely small fraction of The Fandom at large. For every Paul stan on twitter that yells at people for not believing that Paul literally invented music, there is a John stan in a facebook group going on about John's supposedly tireless peace efforts. For every nuanced, well sourced post on amoralto's blog, there is someone in the Beatles Bible comment section saying that John and Paul hated each other. For every fan who's read the major Beatles bios with a critical eye towards bias, there are plenty more fans who just absorbed them as straight fact. This is not to say that your experiences are not real or valid! They absolutely are! What I am saying is that there are infinite permutations of infinite Beatles fandoms out there, and the people you see who insist that Paul is still treated worse than John, I would imagine, are occupying various permutations of the fandom where that is more true, alongside the one they share with you. It's not for me to say whether the Paul or John people have the upper hand on the whole - truly, I don't think anyone has enough perspective on the whole fandom to make any judgment on that, no matter what general Grand Pronouncements anyone may make about The Fandom.
As I've said before, any overly defensive "stan" behavior, whether it's for John or Paul or George or anyone, is exhausting to me, so I definitely understand where you're coming from re: him being supposedly underrated. He is literally one of the most successful musicians of all time; as of the beginning of this year, he is worth 1.2 billion dollars; and, thanks to his own efforts and the efforts of quite a few fans and writers out there over the decades, he now enjoys an incredibly positive "granddude" reputation. There are ways in which it can be exasperating to read yet another indignant refutation of music reviews for RAM that came out fifty years ago, when his last three albums have hit the top 3 in the charts in both the US and the UK and have gotten great reviews. I have seen people wonder, honestly wonder, how much more money Paul could have made, how much more respected he could have been, if the rock press had been inclined to give RAM good reviews. When I see that, it does start to feel like fans of Paul, at least the defensive ones in the fandom permutations I occupy, are arguing with the author photo of Philip Norman in the book jacket for Shout!. It's not that I think those arguments and discussions are not worth having; I do think they're worth having because I believe that the only way we can continue to grow is if we grapple with the mistakes made in the past. But there is a strange kind of disconnect that happens when you read about someone indignantly defending Wild Life as though the members of Wings are currently, actively having eggs and rotten fruit thrown at them, and then you remember that Paul is currently, and has been for many years now, one of the richest men in the entire world.
As for the misogyny thing, I'll copy and paste a quote from Erin Weber which may explain a little better than I can:
"Where it starts entering into serious discussion for me is when you have professional grown men (Schaffner would be the most glaring example of this, but not the only one) repeatedly using the term “pretty” or “pretty-faced” to refer to another grown man. (Norman does the same). Schaffner doesn’t only do that once or twice, he uses one of those exact words at least fifteen times in his references to McCartney. “Pretty-boy” is also a term that at least one journalist has used to describe Paul, and that’s not a stealth insult: that’s an overt one. (My husband, who hates the Yankees, routinely used the term “pretty-boy” to insult Alex Rodriguez. And it wasn’t meant as a compliment).
My reaction to this is based both on studies that I’m aware of (I’d have to hunt them up, but I’ve seen them referenced before) which argue that the use of feminized language can be a method of stealth insult/diminishment when used by men to describe other men, and my own personal experience. It is difficult to see a situation where a grown man using the term “pretty” or any variation of the word “pretty” to describe another grown man means it as a compliment. Even if its purely meant as a descriptive term, it is a descriptive term that is weighted with significant meaning and is feminizing. And given the rock press’s obsession with masculinity and its insistence, as noted in other studies, of using masculine terms to portray a song as good and feminizing terms to describe them as weak or inferior, I don’t think its a coincidence that a rock press that knew well the power of masculine and feminine language commonly used feminized language, particularly in the 1970s and 80s, to describe McCartney."
I personally see this more as pseudo-homophobic than pseudo-misogynistic (like, when I see a man called "pretty" by another man in an insulting way, I immediately think "oh, that author wanted to say a gay slur but he's too Professional"), but the two things can get muddled together, I suppose.
Anyway, actionable items:
Diversify Your Fan Experience. More perspectives can really help gain a fuller understanding of not just the fandom but the Beatles themselves. Don't be afraid to be wrong, and don't be afraid to be right; always be open to learning new things and hearing new insights.
If All Else Fails, Block 'Em.
#macca#anonymous#i guess this is#hot take tuesday#?#even though its thursday night#about the blogger#for reference
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Look What You Made Me Do (Cockles FanFic)
Title: Look What You Made Me Do
Pairing: Cockles (Jensen x Misha)
Fandom: Supernatural RPF
Rating: GA
A/N: Part of my 500 follower celebration. This was based off a prompt by @dolphindiluna.
If you want to send me a prompt based on the theme, coming out, check out my pinned post.
Words: 2729
Read on AO3
Jensen stood on the stage, Robbie and the boys of Louden Swain behind him, music pumping into his earbuds as he smiled at the roaring crowd. A wave of panic filled him as the opening notes of his intro music sent the crowd into a frenzy, and he tried to swallow the lump in his throat.
In the back of his mind, there was a voice screaming at him to turn around and leave the stage as quickly as he could. That would be the smart thing to do. Especially since his stunt was about to lead to career suicide.
But as he glanced to his right, he caught sight of Misha and the smile on the other man’s face took his breath away. With a shy smile, he looked down at his feet for a moment.
You can do this, Jackles.
It wasn’t a spur-of-the-moment decision that brought him up on stage during the con’s Saturday Night Special.
It started out as something he wanted to do for Misha. Which was totally the wrong reason to want to do this. But he’d had such a hard time after the show ended.
Truthfully, he’d been having a hard time the last couple of years, and Jensen knew he hadn’t made things easier. Misha had never shied away from his sexuality, while Jensen had still very much been in the closet except for a few close friends.
But the whole Destiel thing had been like watching a trainwreck you just couldn’t look away from. The network and studio handled things badly and forced Misha to take the brunt of it, even though it wasn’t anywhere near the scope of his responsibility.
But he did it.
And Jensen hated it.
There had been a few bigwigs in charge who hadn't known but highly suspected that Jensen and Misha had been an item. It wasn’t like they really hid it on set, but they didn’t flaunt it either.
Misha called their remarks whenever they were on set or at a con, a microaggression.
Jensen took his word for it, as he really had no clue, other than that Misha meant it was homophobic, even if they didn’t seem to be on the surface.
So, he wanted to do something for Misha. To show him that he was loved and appreciated. And that he was committed to him, even with the show being over.
Misha and Danneel were his forever. And he never wanted either of them to forget it.
He had spent long hours over the last couple of weeks leading up to Vegas Con, talking it out with not just Misha, but with Danneel and even Vicki. They, along with the kids, were his life. And he would never make a rash decision, especially a possibly life-altering one, without consulting them first.
But they understood what he wanted. And what it could mean for all of them.
And they were all ready to stand by his side, no matter what he chose.
So, two months after he first got that cursed idea, he found himself on stage, in Vegas for the first time since the show wrapped up.
What a clusterfuck that had been. He knew it was bad as soon as it had been pitched. There were too many ways that things could go wrong by the time they got to the finale. And boy, did they ever go wrong.
Not that he was against Dean and Cas ending up together.
Jensen snuck another peek at Misha and smiled to himself. No, he definitely did not mind Dean and Cas ending up together. They deserved to be as happy as he and Misha.
The only problem was that, as he suspected, by the time push came to shove, no one was able to pull the trigger.
They’d cocked the gun and pointed it, had Cas confess, but then the execs at the studio were on edge over the dailies they’d been sent. With a global pandemic knocking on their door, they were afraid to go with anything but sticking to the status quo.
Except the show had been anything but status quo for quite some time. They were just too slow to realize.
He knew some of it was personal bias but that most of it was business. Though they managed to screw up even that.
But he was at the con, and he was going to do what he could. For everyone involved who deserved some vindication. They deserved to know they weren’t crazy.
Jensen took a deep breath and looked out at the crowd and gave them the most charming Dean Winchester smile he could manage.
And it sent them wild.
“Hey, guys!” When the crowd cheered their own greeting back at him, Jensen grinned.
With another deep breath, he steeled his nerves and mentally nudged himself forward. This had been his idea, and he still knew and agreed that it was the best idea, but that didn’t make him any less nervous.
Especially since he knew he was about to piss off the studio execs who were footing a large portion of the bill for his and Danneel’s production company.
He was almost certain he could kiss that goodbye.
“Look, I know there has been a lot of discourse since the show ended, and even more questions. I wish I could give you all the answers you’re looking for, but I hope that tonight, we can clear some things up.”
He knew it wasn’t a lot, but he wanted to be able to give the fans as much as he could, as much as he was comfortable with.
“Wow,” he said with a chuckle. “I haven’t been this nervous up on stage in a long time.”
He grinned at Rob as the music morphed and the opening bars to a Taylor Swift song kicked into his ears.
Part of him felt stupid. This was a stupid song for him to sing. But it was fitting.
He didn’t like to be backed into a corner, nor did he like his loved ones to be put into uncomfortable positions. And that had happened with most of them since their twelve-to-fifteen-year tenure on Supernatural ended.
Jensen knew he made a lot of mistakes in the last decade, and tonight he planned on correcting some of them.
A cleansing breath went through his lungs as he caught sight of Misha again, who flashed him a grin and a thumbs up.
He could do it.
He needed to do it.
Misha deserved it.
Jensen deserved it.
Their wives deserved it.
He opened his mouth and as soon as he started to croon out the first line, his voice low and smooth like a fine whiskey, the fans erupted into such a frenzy. Jensen thought might never stop grinning.
“I don't like your little games
Don't like your tilted stage
The role you made me play of the fool
No, I don't like you
I don't like your perfect crime
How you laugh when you lie
You said the gun was mine
Isn't cool, no, I don't like you”
As Jensen finished the first verse of the song, he felt his confidence grow. He’d practiced - a lot. He knew what he was doing and he trusted the band to be there for him and back him up as they’d rehearsed.
They’d smoothed out some of the music, made it more fitting to his vocal style, and the crowd erupted as the music morphed into what was more likely to resemble a 90’s rock ballad than a Taylor Swift song.
In the back of his mind, he thought it was a little sacrilege, but he’d never admit it out loud.
“But I got smarter, I got harder in the nick of time
Honey, I rose up from the dead, I do it all the time
I got a list of names, and yours is in red, underlined
I check it once, then I check it twice, oh!
Ooh, look what you made me do
Look what you made me do
Look what you just made me do
Look what you just made me-
Ooh, look what you made me do
Look what you made me do
Look what you just made me do
Look what you just made me do”
Jensen soon found himself bopping his head along with the crowd.
With a grin, he turned and strode over to Rob, who shook his head with a hearty laugh.
“I don't like your kingdom keys
They once belonged to me
You asked me for a place to sleep
Locked me out and threw a feast (what?)”
This was it.
His moment.
Their moment.
Jensen is no longer looking at the crowd. He’s all but forgotten there is even anyone else there as he continues to sing without even thinking about it.
How could he think, when he found himself lost in the perfect storm of those blue eyes that stared back into his green ones?
He moved with purpose as he marched across the stage.
“The world moves on, another day another drama, drama
But not for me, not for me, all I think about is karma
And then the world moves on, but one thing's for sure
Maybe I got mine, but you'll all get yours”
And in one swift motion, he pulled Misha, who had taken his outstretched hand, and pulled him out on the stage and Rob picked up the vocals and sang the chorus.
They had taken a few steps back when they let go and Jensen’s hand reached up to cup Misha’s face while his left hand, which still had his microphone, snaked its way under his boyfriend’s arm and wrapped around his back.
Jensen gently pulled Misha against him, who complied, putting both his hands on Jensen’s hips as their lips met and lazily molded together.
They fit perfectly.
Kissing Misha wasn’t even something Jensen had to think about, it just came as naturally as kissing Danneel.
He was sure the crowd was going crazy, but all he could hear was the whimper he elicited from his boyfriend as their lips parted and Jensen’s tongue caressed Misha’s.
“But I got smarter
I got harder in the nick of time (nick of time)
Honey, I rose up from the dead
I do it all the time (I do it all the time)
I got a list of names, and yours is in red, underlined
I check it once, then I check it twice, oh!”
Jensen pulled away, hand sliding down to Misha’s shoulder, breathless as always when Misha is near.
“I love you, babe,” Jensen whispered as he looked into Misha’s shining eyes that threatened to spill tears. Because even though he knew what Jensen was planning, it was real, at that moment, and Jensen could see that it was hitting Misha harder than he could have imagined.
His heart swelled as he moved his hand from cupping Misha’s shoulder to wrap around the back of his neck and pull him into a hug.
As he turned their bodies to face toward the crowd, Jensen smiled, his own teary eyes taking in the crowd that had gone wild, and dropped a soft kiss onto the top of Misha’s head.
With a grin, he stepped back and glanced over his shoulder to see Rob grinning at him. He threw the other man a wink as he gave a nod of appreciation for all his support and love not only given to him, but to Misha.
As he turned his gaze back to the crowd, a wicked grin spread across his face as he tilted his head at Misha, who was still securely snuggled into his side, and brought the microphone back to his mouth.
“Ooh, look what you made me do
Look what you made me do
Look what you just made me do
Look what you just made me-
Ooh, look what you made me do
Look what you made me do
Look what you just made me do
Look what you just made me do”
Jensen couldn’t help but chuckle into the microphone as he caught Misha’s eye roll. Of course, the older man thought he was being over the top and more protective than he needed to be. But he also knew how much it meant to him.
The look in his eyes, at the unshed tears and the smile that went on for miles, was all Jensen needed at that moment.
He knew he made the right decision. His family was more important than some job. There were plenty of things he could do besides acting or having a production company, if it actually came to that.
There was the Family Business Beer Company, there was Radio Company, not to mention the profits they turned from renovating houses and flipping them. And it wasn’t like the studio or network could now retroactively go back and undo the contract he already had for residuals from the show.
Jensen tried to swoop in and steal a kiss, but Misha let out a shy laugh and playfully pushed his face away as he gave one of his patented not-so-subtle winks. He immediately found himself letting out a chuckle as he let his arm fall from Misha’s shoulder and took a step forward, really paying attention to the crowd for the first time.
They were on their feet still, and going wild. All the bright lights from the cameras snapping pictures was a little much, especially since there wasn’t supposed to be flash photography, but he couldn’t find it in him to complain about anything at the moment.
As the bridge was about to kick in, he motioned with his hand for the crowd to join him.
“I don't trust nobody and nobody trusts me
I'll be the actor starring in your bad dreams
I don't trust nobody and nobody trusts me
I'll be the actor starring in your bad dreams
I don't trust nobody and nobody trusts me
I'll be the actor starring in your bad dreams
I don't trust nobody and nobody trusts me
I'll be the actor starring in your bad dreams”
He was grinning like a loon as he dropped his arm to his side, but he really didn’t care. Especially as he made his way back over to Misha and slid his hand home within Misha’s. They were a perfect fit.
“(Ooh, look what you made me do)
(Look what you made me do)
(Look what you just made me do)
I'm sorry
But the old Jensen can't come to the phone right now
Why? Oh, 'cause he's dead (oh)”
He knew he’d get in trouble for it later, but with a dramatic flourish, Jensen held his arm out in front of him and let the mic fall to the stage.
What were they going to do? Fire him?
As Jensen stared into the endless pools of Misha’s blue eyes, he didn’t really care what they did anymore.
He was going to do what he wanted, what felt right . And not let anyone else tell him differently.
And at that moment, all he wanted to do was kiss Misha.
His movement caught the other man by surprise, as he reached over and put one hand behind his back, and one behind his head, and gave him a slight dip before he leaned down and claimed his lips.
When they came up for air, they didn’t even realize there was anyone else in the room. They only had eyes for each other as they reached for each other at the same time, took each other’s hand, and walked off the stage as Rob and the band finished out the song.
Ooh, look what you made me do
Look what you made me do
Look what you just made me do
Look what you just made me-
Ooh, look what you made me do
Look what you made me do
Look what you just made me do
Look what you just made me do
Ooh, look what you made me do
Look what you made me do
Look what you just made me do
Look what you just made me-
Ooh, look what you made me do
Look what you made me do
Look what you just made me do
Look what you just made me do
If you want to be added or taken off my tag list, please let me know either in the comments or via a DM.
@dolphindiluna @kristina710
#supernatural rpf#rpf#jenmish#cockles#coming out#jackles sexy silence#doing the right thing#comfort misha#jensen done with the network and studio bullshit#taylor swift#look what you made me do
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A big, messy Linked Universe playlist
Link for Links
Heavy on the angst, because of who I am as a person. (At the same time, don’t take it too seriously, man.)
Influenced by canon, manga (TP Link is really Going Through It™ ), my personal perceptions, and popular fandom canon.
A pretty wide variety of genres, with a bias towards metal and prog rock.
I kept snippets of lyrics for most songs, also because of who I am as a person. (Some were particularly hard to narrow down to just one verse or chorus.) Those - and a little more rambling - are under the cut if you really want, in the order of the playlist.
But.
It’s long.
I didn’t initially make this with the intent to share, but hey.
Throughout my past year+ of listening, I’ve been haphazardly adding songs to a playlist I very creatively named Links. If something reminded me of them, whether through the music or lyrics or both, I threw it on the playlist, so some songs might seem odd or vague.
Some are really on the nose, as subtle as a sledgehammer. (Sky for Sky? Dude. Sorry.)
Some are there because of a fitting line or two that stuck in my head.
Ultimately, music - like any form of creative expression - can be interpreted in a multitude of ways.
My listening habits and tastes are erratic, which is why this is one big, jumbled playlist and not separated for different Links. Not to mention if I did that, some (Wild, Legend) would have a lot and some (Wind, Four) would have none, both because of my own familiarity with them, and because of the general themes of the music I tend to listen to. Most songs are a general ‘hero’s spirit reborn’ mood, anyway - those are the first part of the playlist. The second half is more nuanced to specific Links, plus a few Ganon vibes.
1. Deep Purple - April
(Koji Kondo, composer of the original Legend of Zelda theme, was into Deep Purple as a kid, and it shows.)
2. Kamelot - Regalis Apertura
3. Au4 - So Just Hang On, Beautiful One
(I’ve posted this here before. I can’t hear it without thinking of LU now.)
So I slipped in through the gate almost unknown.
All my border stamps were late. Seven days old.
Cold hand griped my shoulder blade, broke the bone.
Bloody nose and turned away, all the way home.
4. FC Kahuna - Hayling
Don’t think about all those things you fear, just be glad to be here
5. Glass Animals - Youth
Boy, when I left you you were young
I was gone, but not my love
You were clearly meant for more
Than a life lost in the war
6. Pain of Salvation - Restless Boy
A restless boy in a world too slow
A flame born into cinder, ash, and glow
I've given everything I gave it all
Yet find myself alone
7. Haken - The Endless Knot
Our design shifted frame by frame!
Across the line our cycle starts to fail.
Our design shifted frame by frame!
Across the line we die to live again.
We need a story to believe in.
We need a hero to prevail.
We need a challenge we can overcome,
it takes a tragedy to make us one
8. Kamelot - Memento Mori (I particularly associate this with Time and Twilight)
I am the god in my own history
The master of the game
I may believe if she would come to me
And whisper out my name
Sometimes I wonder where the wind has gone
If life has ever been
Sometimes I wonder how belief alone
Can cut me free from sin
9. Katatonia - Fighters
Look I told you so
We never stop
If we said that We'll back it up
For sure
You know
We're fighters
10. Megadeth - This Day We Fight! (I mean, all Links, but particularly Warriors)
For this I was chosen, because I fear nothing
With confidence I tread through the dead of the night
Off to another war-torn, faraway battlefield
Wherein lies a demonic enemy horde
11. Moon Tooth - Igneous
Well, the spirit took me
And this old broken body leapt up and danced
Settin’ out
Settin' out with all my heroes in a bundle at my back
Hawk am I
More wings span in my shadow than overcast
Yeah, you know what they say
Always need something to look up to, ha
12. Samael - Moongate
Destiny, tomorrow is today
Destiny, without boundaries
How many nights will we spend together traveling infinity back and forth and again
How many times will we go together questioning eternity about us about our wonders...
13. TOOL- Parabola
This body holding me reminds me of my own mortality
Embrace this moment, remember
We are eternal, all this pain is an illusion
14. Lunatic Soul - Blood on the Tightrope
No matter how hard you try
To shut down your feverish thoughts
They hunt you down with no regret
Cause you have to fix it all
15. Hybrid - Keep It In The Family
16. Soul Savers - Unbalanced Pieces
Gone, now carry on
Through violent seasons
I call you mother, mother, mother
In vain, absent chain
The twilight's bleeding
And the playing board has two unbalanced pieces
17. Steve Von Till - Valley of the Moon
All she gives is a stone facade
Like ill-given flowers at a dead man's wake
Here we slave for the dreams of another
And fight over scraps like wayward dogs
18. Ludovico Einaudi - Experience
19. Lunatic Soul - Summoning Dance
Three stones on the right side
Three stones on the left
My vicious circle of life and death
“Oh you want it”
I hear it again
“Oh you want it”
My burden
Curse to break
20. Lunatic Soul - Through Shaded Woods
Run through your shaded woods
Run through your shaded mind
Run through the night
Run away
Run through the darkness
Run
21. Lunatic Soul - Naavie
22. David Bowie - Nature Boy
There was a boy
A very strange, enchanted boy
They say he wandered very far
Very far, over land and sea
A little shy and sad of eye
But very wise was he
23. The Dandy Warhols - Sleep
Well, I could sleep forever
But it's of her I dream
If I could sleep forever
I could forget about everything
24. Au4 - Everyone is Everyone (and Everything is Everything)
Tripping and tumbling,
Flipping and fumbling.
Flowing on the rivers of sadness
That have been forever rumbling.
But from dawn until now
Of all the paths that I could have gone down
Of all the valleys
That I could have been flowing through.
In spite of all the chaos
And all that has come between us,
How is it I still find myself
Here with you.
25. Kingcrow - Everything Goes
Your hands again upon the ground
Falling rain for hours and hours
As you learn the game
Time dispels the fog
...
Ever been there?
Ever felt like prey?
Ever thought your mind was feeble?
Lot of things that don’t make sense
26. Pain of Salvation - Icon
As a child I felt too old
And now when I'm grown-up I feel too young
A different kind so I've been told
Just slightly out of reach and out of time
27. Sophia Loizou - Divine Interference
(I got spooky dungeon vibes. Also, the title.)
28. Carpenter Brut - Fab Tool
Runnin
Gunnin
Forward in the phantom shatter so grand
Splatter grand, arcanum fuel
Wrought iron out of the sky
Over me, tells no lie
29. Blue Stahli - Death Will Have to Run
All on the open road
Where none will ever grow
A journey toward the known
With countless miles to go
30. Gyroscope - Mistakes & Ladders
I am the first?
No I can't be the first
A continuous nothing, destined for something
Tell me who you are and why you trapped me here
31. Queens of the Stone Age - Run, Pig, Run
Run, pig, run
Here I come
32. Chali 2na & Krafty Kuts - Guard The Fort
The swords are drawn and odds are stacked
And we clash the impact's a thunderous clap
Calm demeanor
Even though we are under attack
[...my turn to guard the fort ready for combat]
33. The Great Discord - Army of Me
(lol)
34. Kongos - Terrified
I think I'll start again and change my name
You only live once or twice, what a shame
Somebody fucked up when designing this game
35. Woodkid - Run Boy Run
Run, boy, run!
This ride is a journey to
Run, boy, run!
The secret inside of you
Run, boy, run!
This race is a prophecy
Run, boy, run!
And disappear in the trees
36. The Beta Machine - The End
A million miles away from you this time
I'll do what it takes
I'm on my way
If lines are in the sand
I'll go under
If I can make it in time
I will bring you back with me
37. Devin Townsend Project - Gump
When we last met who was I?
I'm sorry we no longer see eye to eye
The energy to keep you in while keeping myself out
I'm sorry how you'll take this
But I just don't have the patience anymore
38. Arrested Youth - Riot!
I can't get much satisfaction living in this cave
It's tough to breathe, I'm in the belly of the beast
Can't sleep with all my rage
With me and all my generations living in this cage
Pick up your guns and tell your sons, tonight we break the cage
39. Led Zeppelin - Friends
So anytime somebody needs you
Don't let them down, although it grieves you
Some day you'll need someone like they do
Looking for what you knew
40. Faunts - M4, pt 2 (Wild)
Fight your foes you're not alone
Holy war is on the phone
Asking to please stay on hold
Bleeding loss of blood runs cold
And I need you to recover
Because I can't make it on my own
41. Faith No More - Ashes to Ashes (Wild)
I want them to know it's me, it's on my head
I'll point the finger at me, it's on my head
Smiling with the mouth of the ocean
And I'll wave to you with the arms of the mountain
42. Devin Townsend - Jupiter (Wild)
I know you
At least I think I do
Everything's changed
But in the days that are so dark
It's wonderful
43. Katatonia - Neon Epitaph (Wild)
Shadow of my shadow
Cling not to my grief
I am long left behind now
You are free
44. The Smashing Pumpkins - The Beginning is the End is the Beginning (Wild)
Time has stopped before us
The sky cannot ignore us
No one can separate us
For we are all that is left
The echo bounces off me
The shadow lost beside me
There's no more need to pretend
Cause now I can begin again
45. Katatonia - Lacquer (Wild)
My voice travelling
Soaring bird above your head
The house we lived in
Ridden with disease
...
The levee breaking
I can't live to fight once more
The road to the grave is straight as an arrow
I'm just staying around to sing your song, baby
46. Eskimo Joe - This is Pressure (Wild)
There is no romance in suffocation
The walls fall down like your expectations
You want to scream
And you want to shout
But you've built up steam
And you can't let it out
This is pressure
47. Portugal. The Man - 1000 Years (Wild)
We'll wait 1000 years
Until the end of time
We'll wait 1000 more
Dressed up in gold and white
We'll climb the mountain sides
To find what's in the sky
We'll dig through mountain sides
To find what's deep inside
48. Au4 - An Ocean’s Measure of Sorrow (Wild)
Forgot my name and who I was.
Memories of nothing floating up.
All of the sorrow we once knew,
Colours the ocean's water blue.
49. Band of Skulls - Carnivorous (Twilight)
I am corrosive and cohesive
Like a chemical bond
I'm all together undone
I am the broken kingdom
I'm just so, so, so
So carnivorous
50. Glass Animals - Flip (Twilight)
I wanna go back with a club and attack
I wanna take to my guns and break you
I gotta make my little foe take his own
51. TV on the Radio - Wolf Like Me (Twilight)
My mind has changed my body's frame, but, God, I like it
My heart's aflame, my body's strained, but, God, I like it
52. Kamelot - The Spell (Twilight)
All my demons cast a spell
The souls of dusk rising from the ashes
So the book of shadows tell
The weak will always obey the master
53. OSI - Radiologue (Legend)
I was dreaming I was heading west thirty days faster
Had a fever
woke up in a sweat
bailing out the water
Can't go on
Can't go back
Heard your voice coming through the noise
wrote it in the radio log
Hurt my head, wondering what you said
so I threw it overboard
54. Katatonia - Don’t Tell A Soul (Legend)
I have been destroyed by the perfection that is a lie
see I'm moving soon
see my feet are already on the road
and if you know where I’m going
don’t tell a soul
55. Haken - The Mind’s Eye (Legend)
The shape of things to come are closer than they seem
Changing your design every time you disappear
I'm planning my escape through portals of your mind
Where people seem to drop like flies
56. Pain of Salvation - Species (Legend)
Sometimes I hate my fucking species
Yet most days I'll do anything to please it
My generation was fooled to pursue our dreams
But it is not what it seems
You never need what you want
And you rarely want what you need
57. Euringer - Do You Kiss Your Mama with That Mouth? (Legend)
All my life, misunderstood
I'm fuckin' too smart, too smart for my own good
The last question, before I go is
"Hey motherfucka, do you kiss your mama with that mouth?"
Yes!
I kiss your mama with this mouth
58. !!! - Pardon My Freedom (Legend)
Like I give a fuck, like I give a shit
Like I give a fuck about that shit
Like I give a fuck about that motherfucking shit
59. Team Sleep - Ataraxia (Legend)
Froze asleep
Coma deep
I dream I'm out with you
Alone at sea
60. Oliver Tank - Embrace (Legend)
You're in my dreams
The world is torn apart at the seams
And I don't wanna leave
Wearing my heart on it's sleeve
61. Machine Gun Fellatio - The Girl of My Dreams (Is Giving Me Nightmares) (Legend)
The girl of my dreams is giving me nightmares
I don't know what it means but she's got multi-coloured hair
When she stands in the sand I dream of peaches
And I'm not sure what that means either
62. Earl Greyhound - Shotgun (Legend & Hyrule)
I am nobody, nobody is who I am
I am a traveler on this land
And nothing, nothing, nothing in my hands
63. TV on the Radio - Staring at the Sun (Hyrule)
You're staring at the sun
You're standing in the sea
Your mouth is open wide
You're trying hard to breathe
The water's at your neck
There's lightning in your teeth
Your body's over me
64. Echo & The Bunnymen - The Killing Moon (Time)
Fate
Up against your will
Through the thick and thin
He will wait until
You give yourself to him
65. Sufjan Stevens - Sugar (Sky)
Don’t break my heart, don’t break my flow now
And all this rage has got to go now
Let’s take up this lifeline
Come on, baby, gimme some sugar
Don’t make me wait
Don’t make me wait too long
Don’t make me sing the sad song
Come on, baby, gimme some sugar
66. Obsydians - Ascension (Sky)
Rise above the hardships you’ll face
I will sign and keep on rising
As long as you are giving me your soul and keep me awake
Feel like home and spread your light around
I will listen and just be there
As long as you are giving me your love I’ll give you my soul
67. Sonique - Sky
-_-
68. Enter Shikari - The King (Ganon)
Watch your back, my friend
I'm about to kickstart a cycle
Of never ending revenge
And this time it's primal, it's tribal
69. Saul Williams - WTF! (Ganon, Hylia)
"You've been polluted, uprooted by time
You have been muted, computed but I'm
A living vessel of the one, of the moon, of the sun"
Hey! You ain't as dead as you seem, what the fuck?
Hey! But you keep living your lies
70. These New Puritans - We Want War (Ganon/ Dark Link/ any nemesis I guess)
Shadows dance back up, it's happening again
If you listen carefully you might hear them whisper:
"We hold all the secrets, we hold all the words;
But they're scrambled and broken so you'll never know"
Can't you see them
Floating like black ash?
Can't you feel them
Crawling down your back?
#linked universe#linkeduniverse#listening to music while I stare blankly at nothing is legit my number one hobby#and then shit like this happens#linked universe playlist
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For character ask: Ashley no doubt :D
@neonbutchery If you want to send me another character for the ask, feel free to do so as I received Ash twice in my inbox <3
Character Ask.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Ash, my favourite thing about her? Pretty much anything, she's a girl who knows what she wants and will fight for it. She knows she's deserving of the promotions she keeps getting skipped over but she works hard to show the Alliance that she's worthy, even though she got rejected time and time again and doesn't feel worthy any longer, she doesn't let that stop her.
She's a tomboy but she's also really in tune with her feminism, her sexuality and I think that's absolutely fantastic (guuurl... I wish I was more like you!)
Family comes first for her. It seems in today's society, everyone is so gunhoo on their career, forgetting that family is also important, that they aren't always going to be there, and if something happens to you in your career, you're easily replaceable. Ash knows this, especially in her line of work where she faces hazardous conditions everyday, she makes sure she takes the time to talk to her family. I really love that about her.
There really isn't a least favourite thing about her other than the fact that Bioware over sexualized her in ME3. Where's that tomboy with the bun in her hair? She doesn't seem to be the type to let her hair down while on duty. Yes, I do believe she does let her hair down once in a while but not while she's fighting a war.
favourite line: "Just because I like poe doesn't mean I can't drill between the eyes from a thousand yeards away" or something like that, but you know which one.
and "Nothing like a nice relaxing stroll on the beach, blasting bad guys with my boomstick."
BrOTP: I think her and Garrus would have lots of shooting competition, which on can snipe the most enemies and same with Wrex but with the shotgun. I can definitely see her charging in with them and joking around with them afterwards. She's not afraid to get her hands dirty, and both Garrus and Wrex do respect her for that, we can see the respect is mutual.
Her and James, they both live to be soldiers and enjoy that, I think they would have competitions like, who can dissemble and reassemble the guns the fastest, who can lift more, or even sparring competitions.
OTP: Shepard obvs (and both Male and Femshep -after writing a f!shepley for the Solstice exchange, I really enjoyed the version I made of them). I think they suit each other the best, maybe it's my own bias, or maybe it's the way I portrait my canon Shep and how him and Ash are very competitive and both survivors and their bond is extremely strong because of that, I don't know, but I just think they work so well together.
Shep/Ash/Kaidan is my next one. I don't think Ash and Kaidan work well alone, but with Shep I think it would work. Ash has a dominate personality and she's brash while Kaidan is a "keep to the books" kind of guy and I think they're personality would clash at the end of the day as a couple. I see them more as BFFs.
Miranda/Ash, Traynor/Ash, and Jack/Ash are also some that I think would work well with her.
NOtps: I don't know if I should go there but here goes: Wrex, Garrus, Jacob, Liara, Thane. Okay, maybe all the Aliens romances for Ashley.
Random Headcannon: I can picture Ash with a wardrobe full of old clothes, some of them even full of holes but she hangs on to them until they can't be worn anymore and she makes rags out them to clean the weapons. She doesn't let anything go to waste, and this is because her father was the only one that worked and provided the income but we know that the Third Serviceman Class (the rank her father remained at for his entire career) doesn't make very much money. He made enough for the family to have the bare minimum and so the girls shared clothes and they wore them until they couldn't get anymore uses out of them. They're mother would patch t he clothes until there wasn't anymore room for new patches etc. I think she has maybe 1-2 dresses in her wardrobe but not more than 3 at most.
Her favourite PJ's are an old Alliance t-shirt she first got a training and it may have holes under the armpit section but she refuses to through it out cause it still has more uses. nd an old pair of shorts.
I think that when her and Shep (earthborn/colonist Shep mostly) live together post war they are both very giving people because they have more than what they need and both of them are used to living with the bare minimum and they are just people with big hearts who know what it's like to have nothing, to come from nothing.
Unpopular opinion: She's not racist, she's a realist there's a difference.
Ash: The council races will always think of themselves first. It's...human nature.
Council Tevos: If we lend you our strength to help Earth our own world's will fall.
Ash: We can't afford to the trust them, not if the survival of humanity is on the line.
Council Tevos: The cruel and unfortunate truth is that while the Reapers focus on Earth, we can prepare and regroup.
Ash foreshadows so much, I could spend hours writing more of the foreshadowing she mentions....but the reality is.... she will still be wrongly labeled a racist but Ashley fans know that all to well.
Yeah some things she says aren't the most favorable lines but that's cause of Bioware's writing, not Ashley herself.
Song I associate Ashley with: Bloody Creature Poster Girl by In This Moment. It's probably not something she would listen to... or maybe? But I feel like it describes her very well, she's really not a Damsel in Distress. She can handle herself *Flexes her Guns*. And she definitely teachers her daughter(s) to be the same.
Favourite picture of them: ALL OF THEM! There's not enough picture of Ashley out there on the net, so all them are beautiful to see because it's like "there's finally a picture of Ash and not someone else"
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tagged by @leonzhng thanks for making me dig through my most embarrassing crushes 😭✋
i’ll tag @highwarlockkareena @yibobibo @lan-xichens @purplexedhuman @aheartfullofjolllly @lanzhansmiles @nyx4 i feel like i tag you guys in everything i am so sorry please ignore this if u don’t wanna do it !!
putting this under a read more for reasons
MEN 2010 – 2016
literally nothing more embarrassing than falling on the same type of white man over and over again (with the exception of minho from shinee bless his heart)
tommy joe ratliff → he was the bass player for adam lambert during his glamnation era (think of songs like for your entertainment and if i had you) idk why exactly i liked him so much but i just did.... however i searched him up again quite recently and found out he’s one of those republicans that says the dumbest shit on twitter so Big Yikes
harry styles → “baby you light up my world like nobody else, the way that you flip your hair gets me overwhelmed, and when you smile at the ground it ain’t hard to tell...” and BOOM 13-year-old me was sold for well over two years
louis tomlinson → basically i liked harry most until around 2013 when for some reason i started to like him a little less, and i got more focused on louis tomlinson, and although i didn’t like one direction anymore louis tomlinson always had a special place in my heart
ashton irwin → so ashton is 5sos’ drummer, i discovered 5sos through one direction & i stanned them until late 2014
harries twins → the harries twins (jack & finn) are basically the reason i started spending a lot of time on youtube, they were funny and pretty and they just had good videos in general, so for almost two years i’d watch their content regularly
choi minho → my first steps into kpop happened bc i was watching videos on youtube (most probably the harries twins) and suddenly i saw the sherlock mv in my recommended videos so i clicked on it and then 14-year-old me proceeded to fall for minho like an idiot
brooks twins → still youtubers, the brooks twins were 3/5 of the janoskians (jai & luke brooks, beau brooks, daniel sahyounie, & james yammouni), an australian youtube comedy group that was active from 2011-2018 though i was only around from 2012-2014 (when jai brooks was dating ariana grande)
jc caylen → surprise! another youtuber! jc caylen was part of o2l (our2ndlife) a youtube collaboration channel on which each of the 6 members posted videos on a certain day in the week (mondays with connor, tuesdays with ricky, wednesdays with sam, thursdays with jc, fridays with trevi (my 2nd favorite member bc she participated on the x factor), saturdays with ricardo, and then they had surprise sundays every week) and i remember how much joy jc & the others always brought me with their silly videos
misha collins → up next, you might know him as the gay angel that was sent to superhell after confessing his love to the homophobic hunter on supernatural, it’s misha collins! basically misha was a huge source of comfort for me, and i even went around calling myself emmisha for almost two full years (cringe)
henrik holm → he played even bech naesheim in skam and my crush on him reached that level of ridiculousness where i actually tried my hand at learning norwegian (i can only remember how to introduce myself and some curse words i would make a great first impression on him)
MEN 2016 – 2021
min yoongi → okay so my baby steps into kpop happened through shinee’s sherlock, but i only got really invested when yoongi dropped agust d 1 because Holy Fuck y’know??
kim namjoon → oh man i remember thinking namjoon was cute and a very good leader and then BAM he dressed like THAT at the 2016 mma’s and i fell in love. hard
park seojoon → i started liking park seojoon whilst i was watching hwarang (you guessed it, i watched it bc of taehyung), although he wasn’t my favorite character by far, but he was very silly off camera & i liked that (i’m not that into him anymore tho </3)
kim seokjin → OH BOY LET ME TELL U i liked seokjin from the very beginning (i got to know bts in late 2014) and i always liked seeing him perform and be himself and god once i realized i had a crush on him it just hit me like a mf truck, and he’s still one of my favorite people to this day
jung hoseok → god fake love era hoseok really hits different.... also yes i know i have all of bts’ hyung line on my list BUT bts was a really big part of my life for almost 6 years soooo honestly they deserve it i still think they’re great guys
choi san → when ateez made their debut in 2018 i immediately fell in love with san, he was such an amazing dancer and he captivated me right from the very beginning, to this day he’s still my bias in ateez uwu
xiao zhan → AND THEN, OCTOBER OF 2019 HAPPENS AND I WATCH CQL AND... i fall in love with xiao zhan, something i’d never expected would happen bc when i watched cql for the first time i wasn’t as invested in the story, but i really really really liked xiao zhan and one thing led to another and now here i am as a xfx
wang yibo → the thing is, i’ve known yibo since eoeo except i didn’t know cql yibo was uniq yibo (bc i’d forgotten his name) and when i looked it up i can tell you my jaw dropped to the floor bc holy shit????? also he is very silly and i love him loads ok
lee minho → ah, the man who has been my skz bias since 2018, not only is minho my bias i also kin him (there’s a lot of aspects of myself that i see in minho and vice versa) and he’s very comforting to me
bang chan → honestly, it was only a matter of time before i’d fall for bang chan, i knew the moment i got into skz again that i’d start biasing him and, well, here i am, double biasing chan & minho
WOMEN
this list is shorter bc i’ve in general always had less crushes on women than on men??? blame society forcing me into thinking i was straight for a LONG time
ariana grande → remember the 2011 layout of twitter?? where u could not only have an icon and a header, but also a background and ur twitter page was smack in the center of ur screen with the big ugly menu bar at the top??? yeah ariana grande was always my background for my l*rr* st*l*n*s*n layouts
perrie edwards → this was right around the time she was dating zayn & little mix was breaking out into the spotlight, yeah i just really loved her
andrea russett → okay so remember o2l?? andrea russett was kian’s girlfriend for a pretty long time and they always did videos together and i always thought she was super pretty
lily collins → maybe i don’t like clary in tmi all that much but i sure liked the way lily collins looked
alona tal → MY BISEXUAL AWAKENING, it’s only when i saw alona tal in spn that i realized, fuck i might be gay
park jihyo → i discovered twice (my 2nd jype group after day6) through the like ooh-ahh mv and red-haired jihyo really did something to my heart (i just rewatched it and god zombie bang chan is so mf cute)
kim jisoo → when bp made their square two comeback i was immediately smitten for red-haired jisoo in playing with fire, it’s also when i realized she was my bias out of the four members
shin ryujin → the reason that i have blue hair is partially bc of ryujin and her amazing intro in wannabe :D
xuan lu → her portrayal of jiang yanli was SO ON POINT and she’s just such a kindhearted wonderful person wow i want her hand in marriage
lee yoobin → god i’ve known dreamcatcher from back when they were still called minx and ever since i’ve always looked at dami that bit more than the rest, i was also able to see dreamcatcher live in october of 2019 and the whole experience was just so amazing !!
FICTIONAL CHARACTERS
there’s a whole lot more than just these 10 but i wanted to fit the evolution into one (1) slide as best as i could lmao
peter pan → this movie came out in 2003 (?) and he’s honestly the first fictional character i remember ever having a crush on
legolas → i was really doubting between placing haldir or legolas here but i only really got a vague haldir obsession when i was like 14
zuko → LOOK. ZUKO IN ATLA? HOT. ZUKO IN LOK? HOT EVEN IF HE’S AN OLD MAN.
will turner → man was annoying sometimes but i really liked him and his relationship with elizabeth was cute
jo harvelle → gosh i can’t believe she’s the only female character in here???? yeah she was one of my two spn faves and i’ll never forgive the screenwriters for the way they killed her off
castiel → does your fave ever get sent to super hell for being gay? no? well. mine did
kili → fili and kili’s storyline tore my heart out, spit on it, and then laughed straight in my face, KILI WAS LITERALLY MY FAVORITE DWARF
howl → i only watched this movie for the first time in 2020 so i kinda fucked up the tl cause i watched cql in 2019 but shh, anyways howl with his blonde hair was good looking but howl with his black hair just hits differently. i want a howl
lan jingyi → MY BABY BOY, TINIE LITTLE BABIE WHOMST I MUST PROTECT ok no but seriously this kid. i love him a lot
mu qing → BARK BARK. that’s all (that’s not all i love him a whole lot and it hurts me to see so many people misunderstand his character and only see the bad parts of him when they can forgive others for fucking up (eg. xie lian himself & feng xin) but bc mu qing doesn’t deal well with emotions suddenly he’s the bad guy??? i s2g if ppl are gonna do to him what they did to jiang cheng in the tgcf la i will RIOT)
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Leave Me Wanting
Author: reneejuliet
Pairing: Hoseok x Reader
Rating: M (smut in the form of male masturbation, cursing)
Word Count: 1,636
Genre: Smut, Friends to Lovers?, Idol AU
Author’s Note: Presenting my second drabble! Hoseok has had me feeling some kind of way lately (though still not my bias, lulz) and since I can’t make him my central character in Ignorance is Bliss, I’m sharing this little piece I’ve had on my phone for at least a year now. It’s also brewing in my mind as a possible continuation, so please let me know what you think. And, also, I maybe just sorta really love hearing what you guys think.
Similar to I can hear the bells, this is more from Hoseok’s POV. I don’t know why I wrote it that way - it literally just sort of poured out of me. If I continued this, it would switch POVs between Hoseok and you, the Reader.
And - this starts kinda right off the bat so I’m putting a ‘keep reading’ under all this before the story starts. Enjoy!
(Photo/gif above edited/made by me (if it isn’t showing please let me know, it deleted out like three times while I made this post o.o))
His breathing was labored, heavy pants and ragged inhales echoing off the linoleum of the crappy bathroom stall. One hand was splayed out against the wall, fingers spread and digging into the tile while the other wrapped tightly around his dick, pumping and twisting in search of his release. The ache was constant, but dull. Every now and then he was able to work it into a throb, a spike of pleasure shooting into his stomach, but it was quick to disappear again. The groan that left his lips was one of frustration more than titillation.
Three sharp slams on the bathroom door jolted him, a wave of panic seeping into his exhausted muscles. Until your familiar voice cut through the thick metal as easily as a knife through butter.
"Come on, Jung! We don't have all day! Your meeting starts in twenty minutes!"
He groaned again, his grip growing slack for a moment. The meeting he had completely forgotten about, of course. The whole reason you had pulled into this shitty little gas station. He'd been a mess when you picked him up, having allowed the hook up to run longer than he had intended. It wasn't that big of a deal, he'd thought then - it wouldn't be the first time you had seen him so disheveled, and he was just going to go back to the dorms and pass out in his bed. Until you reminded him of the godforsaken meeting he had with the company's producers regarding his next mixtape. He certainly couldn't go into it with rumpled clothes, sex hair, and fresh hickies blooming under the collar of his shirt.
So, ever the professional handler, you had detoured the vehicle into the nearest gas station and all but dragged his sorry-looking ass into the downtrodden bathroom. Your hands were magic as you cleaned him up: running wet fingers through his hair to smooth and straighten, wiping a damp towel over the wrinkles in his shirt, dabbing just enough concealer over the irritated skin on his collar to lessen the appearance. The determination in your eyes had been so focused you hadn't even noticed the tip of your tongue sneaking between your teeth as you worked. But he had. And coupled with the way your fingers tugged on his hair, pressed against the planes of his chest, well... He'd been left with a whole other problem then.
He'd blamed it on the passionate goodbye he'd shared with Minjee just seconds before you'd shown up. She always did love riling him back up before sending him on his way with a cheeky smirk. He'd smiled sheepishly at you, his friend and current chauffeur, when you both noticed the bulge in his pants. You'd groaned loudly, slapping a hand to your face.
"Damn it, Hoseok, seriously? Three hours wasn't enough??"
You'd left him alone in the bathroom then, with a five minute deadline to "fix himself", as you had so lovingly put it. You were sure to state that this was one thing you would not be doing for him.
It should have been easy. It was hardly his first time masturbating, after all. Even the pressure of having you waiting for him outside wasn't a deterrent - he'd had plenty of quickies before a concert or an interview over the years. And his arsenal of material to work with was hardly empty. Minjee was very expressive during sex, and incredibly vocal. Not to mention that woman's curiosity. Damn. There was a reason he kept going back to her. Yet, every image he recalled, every smooth curve of her body and dulcet whine of her voice only served him to the brink of what he needed. For some reason, it just wasn't enough to push him over the edge this time.
Two more bangs on the door and he cursed under his breath. "Hoseok! Come on!"
"Alright! Shit," he yelled back, exhaling deeply and closing his eyes. Absently, he trailed his fingers gently down his length with a feather-light touch. His heart flipped tiredly in his chest, lower gut tugging slightly in response.
He ran a hand through his hair, the strands still damp from your grooming. The phantom feel of your fingernails on his scalp echoed in his mind and his dick twitched at the reminder. Then suddenly your image was conjured behind his eyelids, your bright eyes focused on him as you ran your hands through his hair, tongue poking out between your lips. Those soft, pale lips that parted in small sighs as you worked on him. The blood surged abruptly into his cock and he gasped, catching the twitching member in his grasp again and moaning as his hand instinctively twisted down to the base before squeezing.
"Fuck," he whispered, voice rough in his throat. Your hands drifted down to his collar, brushing against the hot skin as you dabbed the concealer on. He could still feel the delicious ache that swelled under his skin from the pressure of your touch. His dick throbbed heavily in response and he pumped himself, stomach tightening into a hard coil.
"Ffffffffuck, oh," he gasped out as your hands moved down to his chest now, the wet towel doing little to cool the burning flush of his skin beneath the thin cotton of his shirt. Not with how your fingertips trailed behind it, tracing the lines of his body without even realizing. The way you had brushed along his hips - they thrust into his grip at the memory as he pumped harder, faster. His free hand was shaking as he tangled it into his hair, his throat choking off the sound of your name -
"Hoseok!"
Your voice was flustered, exasperated. Damn near whiny - and that was all he needed. The sound went straight to his dick and it throbbed once, twice more before he came. Hard. The moan he released was low, animalistic in his desperation. There were stars behind his eyes as he finally blinked them open, his chest heaving as the warmth slowly dissipated from his stomach. It took a few more lazy pumps to completely spend himself, at which point he was left staring down at his mess in utter shock and confusion.
Despite his location, despite how rushed and utterly far from intimate the situation had been, that was by far one of the most intense orgasms he'd ever had. And it was all because of you.
What the actual fuck?
It wasn't like you were unattractive. On the contrary, Hoseok thought you were very pretty. It was one of the first things he had noticed the day you caught him with Minjee. He'd simply chalked up any attraction stemming from that to the fact that he had been in the middle of getting his dick sucked - he was sure he had literal hearts for eyes at the time. The second time he had seen you, he'd attributed the flip of his stomach to the nerves coursing through every inch of his body at the topic he was about to breach with you. He couldn't exactly have you going around blabbing about what you had seen, even if you did work for BigHit. He had his image to maintain, after all, and if any of the higher ups found out he was recklessly endangering that, he'd be in a world of trouble.
So imagine his surprise when you swore to keep his secret. Not to mention the utter befuddlement you left him in when you offered him advice on how to continue hooking up, albeit much more discreetly. To say he'd never met anyone like you didn't quite grasp the exact gravity of the situation - he'd never even dreamed someone like you existed. The friendship that blossomed between you in the subsequent months was a marvel to Hoseok, and the idea of spending time with you amidst his hook ups was almost as exciting as said hook up. But only almost.
Until today, at least. Because apparently, somewhere down the road, Hoseok had developed more than just a friendly inclination toward you. He refused to acknowledge this, however, as he proceeded to hastily clean himself up before exiting the stall. Giving himself a once-over in the grimy mirror, he steeled his expression.
No, this was not the time to try and name anything of that sort.
He remained silent as he exited the bathroom, making a beeline for the vehicle. You muttered a breathy "finally" as you followed, climbing swiftly back into the driver's seat and starting the engine. It wasn't until you were on the road again that you spared a look at him.
"You know, if I had known it would be that difficult for you to get yourself off, maybe I should have offered my assistance."
It was a joke - you were joking. Like you always did. Somehow, you found this entire situation of his amusing. Hoseok knew this, and yet he couldn't help the way in which his limp dick twitched in his pants. He winced, and you noticed.
"Hey," you called, voice softer, more serious. "You okay?"
No, no, no. He was so very much not okay. He had just jerked off to the thought of one of his best friends, and had one of the most ardent orgasms of his life because of it. None of which he could say to you, because he simply was not ready to open that can of worms.
So he forced out one of his usual, sarcastic quips instead.
"Sorry, just - did you want it to take longer?"
You laughed, and it eased the tension building inside his chest. His lips adorned his usual grin, and he glanced at the window. If you knew the truth... you'd be anything but amused.
Well, there it is! I’m not a big smut writer - only recently sort of branched out into it - so please let me know what you think! And, again, if you’d like to see more. I have overtime at work for the next few weeks, but I’m trying to fit in more writing here and there.
Also, I apologize for the disheveled state of my blog! Now that I’ve got more (read: three) pieces posted, I’ll try to create a masterlist ASAP. Don’t know if I’ll accomplish that this weekend, but I shall try.
Thanks again for reading! ^.^
(dngkaenrkjnerskjgesnrkjeew okay the gif took me fckng forever to get uploaded and it isn’t even the size I wanted but I’m a dinosaur who doesn’t quite have a handle on this newfangled technology so it is what it is. Please feel free to share wisdom with me regarding this shit hahahaha *sobs*)
©reneejuliet 2020. No part of this material may be copied, photocopied, reproduced, reposted, or translated without consent.
#btsghostie#bts drabbles#hoseok drabble#hoseok fanfic#hoseok smut#kpop drabbles#kpop fanfiction#kpop fanfic#bts fanfiction#bts fanfic#hoseok oneshot#jung hoseok#jhope#jhope drabble#hoseok x reader#bts fic#bts smut#hoseok idol au#bts idol au#bts imagines#hoseok fic#bts oneshot#hoseok angst#jhope angst#leave me wanting#reneejuliet
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