#i feel like everyone deserves to know what brands support what
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perfume brands i'm choosing not to support
i know this is my specific niche, so i don't know how many people will find this useful, but i wanted to compile a list of perfume/fragrance brands that support israel that i personally have decided not to use. for most, they're owned by a pro israel company, so i'll group them to make this easier to read
note: some brands listed under major companies are partnered with the larger company in question, i just say "owned by" as a catchall
feel free to correct me if i'm wrong on any of this, i'll update it if i need to add or remove anything
Brands owned by Estee Lauder
Aerin
Aramis
Clinique
Jo Malone
Kilian
Le Labo
Tom Ford
Michael Kors
Coach Cosmetics
Anything owned by LVMH
Dior
Guerlain
Givenchy
Loewe
Marc Jacobs
Kenzo Parfums
Maison Francis Kurkdjian
Yves Saint Laurent
Bvlgari
DKNY
Louis Vuitton
Anything owned by L’Oreal (as seen on the subsection of L’Oreals website, L’Oreal Luxe)
Diesel Fragrances
Giorgio Armani
Valentino Beauty
Mugler
Maison Margiela Fragrances
Lancome
Ralph Lauren
Cacharel
Prada
YSL
Various other brands
Bath and Body Works
Zara
BDK (for the life of me cannot find any source talking about this, but here's a screenshot of what the owner has to say)
Chanel
truth be told, a lot of these brands have really good dupes for a ton of their most popular fragrances. i wouldn't even bother going secondhand for their products, but that's just my personal opinion on what i'd be willing to buy. instead, i recommend brands like kayali perfumes who are vocally pro palestine. imo being silent is not really enough, but that's because perfume is a luxury for me and i'd rather spend my money on brands i feel comfortable supporting. anyways, once again, please feel free to correct me if i'm wrong on any of these or if i missed any
#ok to rb in fact i encourage it#beauty and fashion and fragrance are something you can absolutely choose to buy so#i feel like everyone deserves to know what brands support what
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OMFG THIS COMMENT. GUISE. THAT LAST SENTENCE IS SO FUCKING RAW
edit: i see a lot of people arguing over the 'eat the rich' thing and i'd like to clear up my standing currently! i know they aren't the same kind of fancy multi-million corporation that our beloved phrase talks about, and the reason i agree to a point with this comment is that watcher is evidently trying to become that. they're doing some shitty things in regards do disregarding poorer fans, and are seemingly blatantly ignoring the economic crisis by saying 'everyone can afford that!', all in direct contrast to their entire branding of being leftist and openly supporting things like eat the rich.
"You said 'eat the rich' then handed us the forks, laid on the plate, and expected us to spare you?" at least from my understanding isn't flat-out saying watcher are now the rich we eat, but are well on the track to becoming so, and are quickly developing the same ego.
BUT!! don't like people directly hating on steven like that!! they're all grown men who can make their own decisions, and pretending like shane and ryan are out little baby beans and then calling steven evil and whatnot isn't okay. they can all be held equally accountable. though i do somewhat understand being the most disappointed in shane, as he's the one who speaks on shit like eating the rich the most, and is generally more outward with his ideals, so it's perfectly reasonable to feel betrayed more deeply. but bottom line is they're all equally accountable for this decision.
some shit we can't take back. i probably got pissed and said some weird/uncool shit initially because of the intense emotions i was dealing with, which other people amplified. i do regret some of the things i've said to a point when it comes to being hateful, but i can't just un-say it all, so i'm not even going to try. i'm going to leave everything be and allow it to serve as something to look back on for what not to do in future circumstances. while this new path for watcher is, in my opinion, not the smartest and generally really shitty, they're human beings who make mistakes, and they deserve our acknowledgement of that.
in short, i don't like it but i'll stop being a bitch about it because they don't deserve that. also sorry for the wall of (probably incoherent lmao) text i got passionate <3
edit 2: guys. im screaming. the apology was amazing imo and i genuinely think they really mean it, like it doesn't seem bullshitted. i think they realized they fucked up for reals and feel bad. im so happy for them, but also for us as fans. yay :D
#watcher#watcher entertainment#we are watcher#shane and ryan#ryan bergara#ghoul boys#shane madej#i cant even bring myself to type 'all hail the watcher' as a tag anymore#sighhh
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𝐜𝐫𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠・h.h.
— you're uninviting, there's no doubt about that, your resolve like unpolished diamond and tongue like broken glass. but hyunjin finds you're not half as impossible as everyone assumes you are.
words・11.1k
pairing・idol!hyunjin x female stylist!reader (inspired by this)
genres・fluff, angst, eventual smut so MDNI, some hurt/comfort, some humor, mc is a bad bitch and hyunjin is a #simp, enemies? to lovers, sexual tension, workplace relationship, mutual pining, slow burn, nonlinear narrative
warnings・reader vividly remembers an anxiety attack, alcohol is consumed, lots of compartmentalization and imperfect communication, complex people feeling complex emotions, smut warnings under the cut
playlist・farewell, neverland by txt・like crazy by jimin・black friday by tom odell・collide by justine skye・crying lightning by arctic monkeys
a/n・call me victor frankenstein bc i've given birth to a MONSTER (except i actually love and care for mine ofc). this was easily the greatest challenge of my fanfiction-writing career and it feels like my magnum opus; i hope it's worth the wait! also a huge shoutout to sahar for being my voice of reason and my biggest supporter :’) i don’t deserve u i love u
smut warnings・cunnilingus, overstimulation, creampie (practice safe sex!!), mild dacryphilia
Present day. Cannes, France. 5:54 P.M.
You’ve long made peace with the fact that Hwang Hyunjin is incapable of shutting up for more than five minutes.
As it is, the man has a mouth that runs like a cross-country marathon; then throw in his uncanny aptitude for annoying you, and what do you get? A nonstop slew of terrible jokes and teasing quips, tailored according to his thorough mental manual of what gets under your skin hardest and fastest.
This is the reality you live in, presumably because you were evil in your past life, and you’ve steeled yourself to see it through.
But twenty minutes have passed since you and Hyunjin ducked into the back of a cab and gave the driver the show’s address—and, as stunning as the red rooftops and lazuline coastline of Cannes are, you find you’re more interested in Hyunjin’s peculiar silence.
You move your gaze to his face. He’s looking outside, his chin resting upon the palm of his hand, the afternoon sunlight dusting over his chiseled features like polish on pottery; his complexion an exuberant gold against the cream-colored linen that makes up his clothing.
Maybe it’s because you opted for a simpler makeup look today, leaving the most telling contours of his face warm and bare, or maybe it’s because you’ve spent the last year committing his every mannerism and expression to memory. Nevertheless, you see through his pursed lips and tight brow right away.
“Nervous?”
Hyunjin’s head swivels towards you with a small snap, like he’s forgotten you’re here. His lips fall open, their glossy peach color glinting with the small shift.
“No,” he replies reflexively, but then his facade flickers. “Fuck, maybe a little. It’s just hard to believe, you know?”
You do know. It was a huge honor for both of you when Hyunjin was named the newest global ambassador of Versace. For you to be attending the brand’s pop-up show in one of the most beautiful cities in Europe, among some of the world’s most prolific creatives, is truly incomprehensible. Even you’ve been feeling antsy since you landed; you can only imagine Hyunjin’s anxiety.
You have never been good at consolation. You think your mouth is too coarse, your propensity for honesty too strong. But you’ve always known just what to say when it comes to him.
“Just remember who you are.”
Hyunjin takes a few seconds to process your words, but his understanding washes over his whole body; straightens his back; hardens his gaze. You don’t see this change in posture, though. You’re too busy looking anywhere else, all of a sudden feeling quite embarrassed.
Nor do you see the private smile that disperses across Hyunjin’s lips; his eyes softening so, so marginally when they peer at your profile; his hand twitching where it rests on his knee, as if contemplating reaching for you with a mind of its own.
Thirty seconds. That is the amount of time you have left to bask in this otherworldly tranquility. And then he speaks.
“I want you to meet my parents.”
Your arm reacts before your mind can. Without having to turn your head an inch, you smack him squarely in the bicep, sending him crumpling against his door with a bark of a laugh; “please,” he adds, and you’re biting back a smile as you hit him again, with less conviction this time.
The cab driver nearly misses an exit, too busy wondering about the peculiar pair in his backseat and the nature of your relationship. He can’t tell if you hate each other or if you’re married.
One year ago. Seoul, South Korea. 8:42 A.M.
“I still can’t believe you’re abandoning me.”
“For my newborn daughter.”
“Yeah, okay. I still can’t believe you’re abandoning me for your newborn daughter. What does that brat have that I don’t?”
“My genes, to begin with.”
“That’s unfair. She’s using—”
An important-looking pair of women step out of the nearest elevators, the clacking of their heels ricocheting sharply off the lobby walls. Hyunjin straightens his back so quickly he thinks he pulls a muscle. He and Seojun incline their heads in perfect sync, their “good morning”s prim and professional.
“She’s using cheats,” Hyunjin hisses the second the women are out of earshot again, and this wrests a laugh from the older man at last.
Around one month prior, Seojun confided in Hyunjin that he and his partner were expecting their first child soon, and that he would be putting his career on indefinite hiatus to welcome her into the world.
Hyunjin had never felt so conflicted in his life. On one hand, he’d grown closer to his stylist over the last two years than he’d thought possible, and he knew it was stupid to be anything but delighted for him and his expanding family. On the other hand, it was precisely because they’d become so close that he wanted to grab the man by the ankles and shake the decision clean out of his body. He couldn’t imagine a dressing room or tour bus without him.
Today is a Saturday, but it’s also Seojun’s last day with the company. Hyunjin dragged himself to the JYP building at half past eight with much less reluctance than he let on. He wouldn’t have missed it for the world.
“Fourth floor,” Seojun instructs after the pair enter the elevator, and Hyunjin presses a knuckle to the according number. “Thanks.”
The doors slide shut; the floor numbers tick upwards.
“What was her name again?” Hyunjin asks.
“Y/N,” Seojun returns. “Y/L/N.”
“Is she here already?”
“No, she’ll be here at nine.”
There’s a small pause.
“Hyung.”
“Hm?”
“I feel like I’m being married off to another family for political reasons.”
“God, I can’t wait to be free of your theatrics.”
At this, the two men make eye contact; exchange smiles. The elevator announces their arrival to the fourth floor, and they step through the doors.
“You’ll be in good hands,” Seojun reassures. “She’s the best of the best. I hear she’s basically running the industry these days. I’m surprised she agreed to take you on.”
“I’m surprised an old fry like you knows someone like her,” Hyunjin replies, and the look Seojun gives him is so withering that he thinks he pulls a muscle again with his apologetic bow.
“You’re not wrong, though,” Seojun concedes. “We happened to work on the same project back when she was still a small name, and we’ve kept in touch ever since. She’s a great kid. Ambitious, hardworking, strong as hell—”
They arrive outside their destination, and Hyunjin holds open the door to the conference room. Only to find that Seojun has stopped in his footsteps, temporarily stunned by a new realization.
She reminds me of him.
“He’s forgotten how to walk,” the him in question whispers like he’s narrating a nature documentary, and the moment is over. “Is this what fatherhood does to a man?”
Seojun kicks Hyunjin into the room by the seat of his pants.
The minutes pass slowly. Seojun moves his eyes between the door and his phone every few seconds, visibly antsy about the imminent meeting. In the meantime, Hyunjin makes the groundbreaking discovery that these office chairs are absurdly and almost suspiciously comfortable. All it takes is a chin upon his palm and a few seconds of shut-eye, and he’s suddenly slumped over the table, snoring softly into the crook of his elbow.
At 8:57, Seojun’s phone lights up with a new notification. At 8:58, he notices that Hyunjin is asleep, and closes his hand around the crumpled receipt in his pocket. At 8:59, he scrunches said receipt into a ball and launches it in Hyunjin’s direction. It hits him squarely on the head, and the boy is nearly knocked to the floor like a bowling pin.
“For that,” Hyunjin sputters, “I’m the godfather.”
“Absolutely the hell not.”
Then, it is 9:00.
When the door of the conference room opens, Hyunjin is still trying to gather his wits, wondering if the bastard is leaving the makeup industry to secretly pursue a career in professional basketball. He just barely notices the unfamiliar figure who steps into his line of vision.
“There she is,” Seojun greets warmly, rising to his feet right away. “God, how long has it been? Two, three years now?”
You’re not doing anything remarkable when Hyunjin sees you for the first time, simply walking across the room and bowing graciously in Seojun’s direction, but he is immediately under the vague impression that you’re cutting through space as you move, scorching the particles of air that dare obstruct your path.
With his head cocked slightly to the left, like a fascinated puppy, Hyunjin watches the stunning smile that forms on your lips when you take Seojun’s hand; your finger as it tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear with the elegance of rippling silk. His mind feels impossibly slow, like you’ve tapped open his skull and robbed him of his ability to think.
Then, you toss Hyunjin a look over your shoulder, and he’s reminded of lightning forking towards the earth. Terrifying, volatile, beautiful.
“Something like that,” you say, turning back to Seojun, and time starts to move again. “It’s great to see you again, Mr. Lee. Congratulations on the baby.”
“Please, Seojun is fine,” he answers hastily. “And thank you. Thank you for all of this, actually. I can’t tell you how excited we are to have you.”
“You’re too kind—I’m excited too.”
Upon uttering the word “we,” Seojun delivers Hyunjin a fleeting side-eye; he takes the hint and pushes himself to his feet, feeling uncharacteristically clumsy as he moves towards you.
The second time he meets your gaze, it feels wrong, almost, for him to hold it for as long as he does. Like he’s approaching your throne with his chin held high and eyes fixed forward instead of his head sweeping the ground.
Except he swears he senses a strange warmth within the rings of your irises, and he spends every second of eye contact following, chasing it, almost craning his neck with how badly he wants to get a closer look. Until he’s as close to you as is socially acceptable for a first meeting and comes to a halt.
He ends up losing its trail, but he won’t forget that it’s there.
“My client, I’m guessing?” You say, extending your hand. “Y/N. It’s a pleasure.”
Your fingers are freezing cold where they meet his, and Hyunjin already knows that melting the permafrost that coats your flesh and guards your soul will be the tallest task of his life.
But he finds his next words accompanied by an involuntary smirk; he’s nothing, if not tenacious.
“Hyunjin,” he returns. “Pleasure’s all mine.”
Nine months ago. Paris, France. 6:16 P.M.
Hyunjin isn’t sure why—maybe you forget that he can still steal glances at your reflection over your shoulder or through the gaps of your fingers—but he’s learned over the last four weeks that you’re different, gentler, when you’re doing his makeup.
Your cold hands request instead of demand that he angle his head a certain way or suck in his cheeks. Your syllables are rounder somehow, your voice never traveling above a murmur. Even your eyes mellow out when you move in really close, your pupils dilating as you detail the final touches to the fresco you’ve painted upon him.
Your expression doesn’t give you away (it never does), but his hunch is that there’s a sprinkle of doting somewhere among the intense focus. That would explain why he feels like a flower in the moments when your fingertips and gaze move so carefully over his skin, like you’re touching his petals, trying not to tear them.
Too bad you never let him daydream for long.
“Close.”
“Huh?”
“Your eyes. Close them.”
His lashes have hardly brushed his lower lids when you begin to empty what feels like an entire bottle of setting spray on him. At the moist surprise, Hyunjin’s features scrunch up around his nose and he lets out a distraught hack like an old man.
A few seconds later, the barrage stops, and he cracks open a wary eye to scope out his surroundings. You wait until he does this to give his face one last spurt.
“Witch,” Hyunjin mutters, clawing back up the vanity chair.
“Thank you,” you reply, completely earnestly.
And whatever Hyunjin was going to say next suspends instantly on his tongue when you bring the pad of your thumb to the very edge of his lower lip and drag it across the soft flesh. He wonders if you know how hard he tries not to look at your mouth whenever you tend to his. He wonders if there’s anything you don’t know.
“You smudged your lipstick already.” There’s a small streak of coral pink on your hand when it falls back to your side. “See? That’s why we need the setting spray.”
“Uh huh.” And Hyunjin spots a ghost of a smile flit across your face, gone nearly as soon as it appears. The only evidence of it ever existing is the quickened heartbeat it leaves behind within him.
“You’re done, by the way,” you say, stepping aside. “Take a look.”
He slips out of his seat and moves closer to the vanity, peering at his reflection as curiously as if he’s never seen it before. But that’s how he’s felt since he started working with you.
Seojun was right: you are the best that the makeup industry has to offer. Hyunjin has come to understand this for multiple reasons. Your phone screen is incessantly illuminated by new notifications and incoming calls. The other stylists heed your advice like it’s the law. Brushes and pencils move like water when it’s you maneuvering them. And then some.
He would call what you have “talent,” but he knows it’s more than that. You show him a new version of himself every time you turn a mirror in his direction, like there are facets of him that are visible to you and you only. As much as he delights in the notion that you have such intimate knowledge of him, it should be impossible, considering you’ve only known him for two months. So no, it’s not just talent that you possess. It’s some combination of talent, hawkish perception, and raw artistry that is utterly inhuman—and sexy as fuck.
Speaking of sexy. Hyunjin’s look is relatively rudimentary tonight, the makeup light, the outfit a simple black tank top beneath a jacket and pants made of bright red velvet. But it’s the details that tie the whole thing together: the wide, loose sleeves causing the jacket to slip continually off his shoulders; the inner layer tight in all the right places. His face doesn’t look half bad either, with the sultry carmine powder that fringes his eyes and the intentionally mussed state of his hair. He pushes a hand through the dark locks, regarding himself with thorough appreciation.
You appear in his periphery as you start cleaning up your work station. “You can just take the jacket off when your sweat glands start malfunctioning, by the way. I thought you’d appreciate that detail.”
At this, his smize cracks into a laugh, the sound loud and uninhibited and uniquely yours to hear. “You suck.”
He looks away from his reflection just in time to glimpse another of your phantom smiles, and he thinks it’s so painfully on brand that the two times it’s appeared tonight have both been from you making yourself laugh. You might be the most insufferable person he’s ever met. He might be obsessed with you anyways.
“Well?” You implore. “What do you think?”
“No notes.”
It’s the answer you’re expecting. You survey him from head to toe one last time, decide that you, too, are satisfied, and slip your makeup into your bag; hike its strap over your shoulder.
“I’ll see you after the show, then.”
You have an important conference call to attend before tonight’s concert, hence why Hyunjin had to come in early for hair and makeup. This is also the reason why the two of you have been the only people in the dressing room for the better part of an hour.
It’s rare that he ever gets you alone, and he doesn’t want it to end. Not just yet.
“I lied, actually,” he calls. “I do have notes.”
You already have one foot out the door when you hear this, and you turn around so slowly and in such disbelief that he has to fight to constrain his laugh—the concept of imperfection is truly unthinkable to you. Insufferable, like he said.
“Do tell,” you say, dropping your bag back onto the floor.
“You have any jewelry for me?”
You chew on this for a moment. You did have a selection of necklaces prepared for tonight, but they were heavy and numerous, not exactly the best-suited for the group’s dynamic sets. You still like them, granted, and you know Hyunjin would as well.
You articulate all of this to him, and he asks if he can take a look at them anyways. “Come here, then,” you say, the words so tantalizing when they fall from your lips that nearly trips over himself trying to obey.
You take out a flat rectangular box from your bag and set it down in front of the lightbulb-studded mirrors. Hyunjin observes quietly as you show him its contents: three thick, gold chains with varying lengths and boasting different pendants, plus a beaded bracelet and an assembly of rings of the same material. His devious plan aside, he does love the selection.
“You’re sure you won’t be uncomfortable?”
He nods, and you pick up the longest of the three chains; turn to him expectedly. He takes this as his cue to move closer to you, except he overshoots a little, and he feels the tips of his shoes accidentally bump into the ends of yours; discerns the warmth emanating from your body against his own. He expects a withering glare, a kick in the shin, maybe, but you don’t seem bothered by the proximity at all, unblinking as you bring your hands around the either side of his neck and fasten the first necklace with a soft tap. Your fingers then brush over his collarbones to adjust the pendant, and he thinks your hands would have to be numb not to perceive the frantic heartbeat threatening to burst straight out of his skin.
Entire minutes pass before Hyunjin musters the courage to actually look at you. By then, you’re already working on the third and final necklace. It’s not a surprise that your face is mere inches away from his; he’s been watching your reflections out of the corner of his eye; he knows you’re closer to each other than you’ve ever been. But there are parts of you that the mirror doesn’t show—the soft curve of your lashes, the concentrated narrow of your eyes, the shapely protrusion of your pursed lips—and these surprise him so thoroughly that he slips and slides out of his right mind.
You are the type of beautiful that’s been around longer than humans have, the same as that of the true blue color of forget-me-nots. And Hyunjin feels enveloped, intoxicated by you from this minuscule distance. The idea forms numbly in his head that maybe, just maybe, he was put on this earth to admire you.
In this inebriated state, he makes a venturesome decision.
When you finish centering the last pendant upon the his chest, you are about to take a step back and review the updated look, but you’re debilitated by the feeling of fingers grazing over your hip—lightly, so lightly that you mistake them for a gust of wind at first, but the contact is enough to push the small of your back against the edge of the counter. Then, both of Hyunjin’s hands reach behind you, pressing flat against the marble surface, and, just like that, he has you right where he wants you, ensnared between cold stone and hot flesh.
And so begins an equilibrium so fragile that it’ll shatter if one of you so much as blinks the wrong way, your rattled breath fluttering against his lips, his eyes dark and hooded and out of focus as they survey the fine lines of your expression. It still doesn’t give you away (it never does), but he finds that in this moment he just doesn’t care.
“Let me take you out,” he murmurs. “One date.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” You reply under your breath.
“You know what I’m talking about, beautiful.”
Upon uttering that last word, he angles his head almost imperceptibly, the movement challenging, daring you to say something about it. But you don’t. You merely hiss out a whetted “you’re fucking crazy,” and that’s his opening to drag this on a little longer; push your limits a little more.
“About you? Damn straight.”
At this, finally, fucking finally, there is a semblance of something in your face that isn’t just your usual mildly-irritated nonchalance. Instead, he detects surprise in the whites of your eyes as you widen them; as you part your lips with a response that only comes much later.
And he’s surprised by your surprise. Surely, with your skills of observation, you would’ve noticed long ago how his world shrinks down to only you and your gorgeous voice and your confident glare and your shitty sense of humor whenever he’s been granted the privilege of your presence.
This might be the first time he’s admitted it out loud, but he hasn’t tried—hasn’t been able—to hide how he feels about you, not now, not ever. It’s been that way since the moment the sole of your shoe met the carpet of that conference room on the fourth floor of the JYP building.
“Hwang—” You begin.
“Hyung!”
At the sound of a third, new voice, your arms tense like you’re about to shove Hyunjin off of you, but he only leans in further, so that his lips almost graze your jaw and your hands have nowhere to go except the taut surface of his chest. The surprise is gone; now you’re just pissed. He can feel the heat of your furious eyes and the tremor in your hands as you form fists around the fabric of his top. But he takes his sweet time in scooping up the bracelet and rings, and only afterwards does he pull away from you and straighten to his full height.
“Hey, Innie!” Hyunjin chirps, and Jeongin materializes in the doorway, looking thoroughly perturbed by the older boy’s sunny tone. “What’s up?”
In the meantime, you turn around to snap the lid of your jewelry box shut, and it takes a singular glance in the mirror for a truly horrible realization to settle upon your shoulders. You don’t think anybody would be able to tell even if you announced it outright, but you know yourself and the little nuances of your face all too well.
You’re flustered.
You feel like a horror movie heroine breaking the fourth wall.
“Nothing, weirdo. I was just announcing my arrival,” Jeongin says. Thank fuck you did, Hyunjin thinks to himself, completely unaware of the epiphany you’re having behind him. “Chan-hyung mentioned you were here already? Why?”
“She’s in high demand.” Hyunjin points out the she in question by jutting his chin in your direction. “The usual.”
“Ah.”
Jeongin inclines his head towards you in polite greeting. You return his hello, but your expression starts to feel tight when his eyes dart between the strange smile on Hyunjin’s face and your awkward stance (still glued to the edge of the counter) as he drops his duffel by the couch. The boy isn’t stupid, unlike his older counterpart.
“I saw a vending machine on my way here,” Jeongin says, turning to leave the room again. “You want anything, hyung? Noona?”
“I’m okay, thank you,” you say.
“I’ll have whatever you have,” Hyunjin says.
Jeongin flashes a thumbs-up and dips out of the room, perhaps a little more hastily than he intends to come across. And then there are two. Again.
You wait until you can’t hear his footsteps anymore, and then you turn to glower at Hyunjin so intensely that he thinks you’re about to place a curse on his whole bloodline.
Then, your phone starts vibrating, and he knows he’ll live to see another day.
“You still owe me an answer,” Hyunjin calls as you turn around and leave the room.
“Don’t hold your breath,” you reply.
One day, I’ll break her, is the predominant thought that resides in Hyunjin’s head as he slips on the remaining jewelry; watches your figure disappear around a corner. One day, I’ll break his face, is the predominant thought that resides in yours as you stalk away. That’s the two of you, in a nutshell.
Six months ago. Osaka, Japan. 3:03 P.M.
When you walk into the dressing room, you find Haeun hunched over an overflowing photo album with her hands forming fists in her hair, muttering to nobody in particular, “I have no idea what the fuck I’m doing.”
There’s an amused look in your eye as you set your bag down by Hyunjin’s empty vanity chair. She hasn’t noticed your presence yet; approximately three hallways down, the members are rehearsing for tonight’s performance on the main stage of the Kyocera Dome, and the music is so loud that you think you actually saw the walls vibrating while you were in the hallway moments ago.
You rise to your tiptoes and encroach upon her, waiting until she’s within reach to tickle the back of her neck. She nearly flies out of her seat with a shriek that can be heard over the heavy bass.
“Never gets old.” You hand her the photo album that went soaring also, and Haeun snatches it back with an affronted flourish.
“I can’t remember the last time you said hi to me normally, unnie.”
“Me neither, now that you mention it.”
Haeun and Han are your favorite stylist-idol duo in the world because they’re so eerily similar—and it’s adorable. They both illuminate every room they walk into; they both have grins too big for their faces, laughs too loud for their lungs. You always regret leaving your sunglasses at home when you catch sight of the effulgent pair.
But today you cannot detect the usual radiance in Haeun’s voice, nor so much as a hint of her easy grin. Then again, that’s another quality that she and her client share; they’re both well acquainted with the burdens that come with unwavering passion.
Every stylist has their own modus operandi. Haeun’s is a scrapbook of images that she cuts out and saves from catalogs, advertisements, newspapers, et cetera. You’ve seen it many times before, but never in such a state: messy handwriting stuffing the margins to their very brims, numbers and symbols like clusters of rainclouds over a sea of different outfits, arrows and circles and squares highlighting pant cuffs and cascade collars and dangling earrings. Telltale signs that Haeun hasn’t a clue as to what Han will be wearing tonight.
You gnaw on your lower lip, deliberating your next move. You end up placing a firm hand against the album’s cover and pushing it closed.
“Come with me,” you say. “We’re gonna try a new approach.”
Haeun opens her mouth to protest, but unfortunately you have an extensive track record of being right.
“What do you have in mind?” She sighs instead.
“You’ll see.”
With that, you stand up, tuck a small towel under your arm, and angle your head in the direction of the music.
The two of you make your way through the labyrinth of hallways that comprise the venue’s backstage. Eventually, the color of the floor changes from speckled white to solid black, and you step onto the part of the stage that is concealed from the audience by drawn curtains and heavy equipment. You say a quick hello to the group’s manager as you dip past him, and eventually reach the edge of the curtains, where you and Haeun have a good view of the eight members as they run through their setlist for tonight’s concert.
Haeun settles into the spot beside you, still confused as she follows your gaze.
“Let me ask you this,” you say, just audible over the din. “Can you style a performer if you don’t know how he performs?”
And understanding seeps over her features like poured tea.
“I want you to watch him,” you continue. “Tell me how he performs.”
Han’s part begins, as if on cue. His voice rings out through the empty stadium as he ducks to the front of the formation, a microphone held loosely to his lips, his face taut with focus. Haeun stares at him for some time, silently trying to fathom her observations, but she sees you shaking your head in the corner of her eye.
“Don’t think, Haeun. Just speak.”
She blows out a deep breath before obliging. “It’s hard to picture Han doing anything but laughing or making other people laugh, he’s so goofy and lighthearted most of the time. But he’s like a different person on stage. He’s so intense, it’s almost intimidating. Not intimidating in a douchey way, though—you just get the impression that he’s very confident in himself and his music.
You don’t say another word, but don’t need to. She’s hit her stride.
“His voice and enunciation are so clear. It’s crazy how he sounds exactly like the studio recording. Plus, his delivery feels genuine; he’s not just reciting lyrics, but speaking straight from his heart.
“And this is gonna sound bad, but I didn’t know Han could dance. Like, yeah, I knew that he could dance, but not like this. His movements are so sharp that I feel like my attention is being—”
Right there.
She cuts herself off, reaching the same conclusion.
“It’s his turn to talk, and he wants you to cling to his every word," Haeun articulates slowly. "He’s demanding your attention. He needs you to listen. That’s how he performs.”
A satisfied smile bolts across your face like lightning. “Couldn’t have said it better myself.”
Haeun pictures her scrapbook again, and there are now only a few articles of clothing and accessories that fit the framework you’ve helped her forge. She’s almost dizzy with disbelief, tearing her eyes from Han to look at you instead.
“You’re brilliant, you know that?”
“I do, but I appreciate the reminder.”
She can’t help but giggle. It’s a you answer if she’s ever heard one. “Do you do that with all of your clients?”
Haeun asks the question arbitrarily, without thinking. But you respond in a way that she doesn’t think she’s ever witnessed before, and she’s momentarily baffled by the sight: you hesitate.
As the song’s final chorus approaches, Hyunjin is the one folding himself into the center of the eight-person throng. You can only see his back from this angle, but even then it’s palpable how expertly and effortlessly he molds his body to the modulations of the music; how much fervor and feeling he expresses with every jerk of his spine and flex of his hands.
Within a few short seconds, innumerable descriptors and sensations skim the surface of your mind—but one word knocks the rest clean out of the water, the way it always does when you watch Hwang Hyunjin perform.
Artistry.
“No,” you reply. “Not all of them.”
And where better to find inspiration than inspiration himself?
Haeun furrows a brow, understandably puzzled by this response, but you don’t elaborate. Partially because you feel like being coy, but mostly because you know that any explanation you offer will sound like a confession.
The song ends, leaving your ears ringing with the abrupt absence of sound. The members hold their poses with heaving shoulders, staring out into the empty stands until the stage manager’s voice comes through the monitors.
“And that’s a wrap! We’re all set for tonight. Good work, everyone.”
There is a ripple of movement around the stage as the boys relax. Jeongin jogs over to Minho, hoping to review a particularly challenging dance break; the manager asks Chan if he has a second to discuss travel logistics; Seungmin plops onto the edge of the stage and downs the rest of his water; Hyunjin beelines toward you the second he sees you, because of course he does.
You get a good look at him as he skips closer. Stray blonde locks plastered against his damp skin, tank top dyed several shades darker by the perspiration rolling down his neck, the muscles of his arms actually rippling as he swings them around stupidly, a shit-eating smile plastered across his stunning face.
You’re annoyed before he says a word.
“I didn’t know they were letting fans backstage now,” he hums happily. “Want an autograph, gorgeous?”
“Put a sock in it.” You whisk the towel you’ve been holding in his direction. “Wet freak.”
But he catches and tosses it over his shoulder straightaway, and your heart sinks to your fucking ankle. You’ve seen this movie before. You know how it ends.
“No.” You take a shaky step back. “No, nope, don’t even think about—”
The next thing you know, Hyunjin is lunging towards you and winding his arms around your waist, nearly sweeping you clean off your feet as he pulls you into his sweaty embrace. To your complete dismay, your face presses flat against the clammy plane of his chest. “Call me a wet freak again, go on,” he manages to say through his laughter.
In response, one of your hands wriggles free of its slippery prison and snatches the cuff of Hyunjin’s ear with impressive accuracy. He yelps and loosens his hold on you, but doesn’t relent completely, not even when he catches sight of the murderous expression on your face and cackles so forcefully his whole head is thrown back.
You tighten your grip. “Wet,” you seethe, “freak.”
“Ow—okay, don’t make it hot, what’s wrong with you?”
“Wha—what’s wrong with YOU?!”
As the two of you dissolve into your fatuous arguing, Haeun is no longer sure that she’s still standing here. She’s not even sure if she’s in her right mind anymore. She thinks she might be hallucinating the way everything about Hyunjin softens next to you, or the way your biting tone only seems to nibble when it’s him on the receiving end.
“Psst. We’ve been placing bets on them. You want in?”
Han suddenly materializes next to Haeun, and she would have been jumpscared into a different dimension if she wasn’t so fixated upon the bizarre occurrence before her.
But what if she’s not hallucinating?
No, not all of them, you’d said, like you were disclosing a forbidden secret.
“Yes,” she says, and Han beams. “Absolutely.”
Three months ago. Seoul, South Korea. 2:26 A.M.
On a tranquil Saturday night, you’re sitting at your desk, your knees tucked to your chest, the newest episode of your drama playing quietly on your laptop, a half-empty glass of rosé and open sketchbook laid before you. This is your happy place—a safe haven that the trials and tribulations of the real world can’t reach. But you think you’ve really gone and lost your mind when you find yourself thinking about your job.
Well, not your job, exactly. More like the man who makes your job feel fucking Sisyphean.
You know your way around fabric and foundation better than anyone, but you have never struggled with anything as much as you have trying to navigate Hyunjin. You show up to work every day ready to just put some makeup on the man; instead, you wind up stumbling around the potholes of his dimples and the hills of the veins that run over his forearms and hands like a hopeless drunkard. Scouring the creases of his smile and the oscillations of his voice like they’re topographical maps. Mentally replaying your interactions with him time and time again like you’re monitoring security footage, trying to detect illicit activity in every casual touch he leaves on your shoulder or waist; every babe or gorgeous he throws your way, seemingly without a second thought.
You’ve been trying to understand him and his intentions for seven months now, and your efforts have yielded no fruit whatsoever, save for a few theories that you feel insane for even humoring.
You down the rest of the blush-colored liquid, and as you set down your empty glass you notice your fingers itch with a familiar urge. The pen that you’ve been twirling over your knuckles stills, then swivels; its tip hovers over the last free corner of the sheet of cartridge paper below you. And then it presses upon the surface and starts to move, as naturally as if on its own.
When you were little, you came across a children’s book that you no longer remember the name of, about a little girl with a magical pen that brought her every drawing to life. You decided then that you would one day be that girl.
At some point, the subjects of your incessant sketching became almost exclusively runway models and makeup advertisements. You cemented that you wanted to work in fashion as early as your high school graduation, and by then you already possessed the conviction and charisma of the industry’s most experienced members. Your portfolio was stellar; your personality prophesied of wild success. So your career took off, propelled by the neverending positions and projects that various companies continually laid before your feet.
You stand and pad to your kitchen to refill your glass, only to bring the entire bottle of wine back to your room instead. With one hand, you flick the cap off and lift the whole thing to your lips; with the other, you seize your pen again, not wanting to lose momentum.
For the year or so after you joined the industry, you basked in your idyllic prosperity. Even the doodles you scrawled on random napkins during banal business lunches would appear on some of the world’s most renowned faces the next week. You had indubitably become the little girl from your story; made a career out of giving your imagination tangible form. And what a fruitful career it was going to be.
If only you knew how it would strengthen you in ways you never wanted.
The first time someone called you cold, it took you a while to realize that they were talking about you. The phrase was said so casually and lightheartedly that it sounded at first like a piece of unimportant small talk. But the whisper of cold bitch was then followed by a bout of stifled laughter and what was undoubtedly your name. Your heart stopped along with your footsteps, and you looked towards the source: two interns whose names you had yet to learn, while yours was already in their mouths.
You felt nothing until you were three stops away from your apartment, and then the bottom of the subway gave out beneath you and suddenly you were feeling everything. Only confusion, hurt, and rage at first, but then the other emotions that you’d been smothering tirelessly for who-knows-how-long tore free of their cerebral shackles too, and together they formed an amalgamation of anxiety that closed up your throat within seconds.
As your pen studs details into a shapely jawline, you remember how you’d shoved your way off the subway and made a mad dash into the night air. You remember how you collapsed against a utility pole in an unfamiliar neighborhood, how your knuckles paled around the ashen wood, how your tears tumbled over your lips and salted your tongue. You remember wanting to go home so badly that you thought your ribcage would cave in on itself with the weight of it. You remember begging for air, for you.
By the time the oxygen had returned to your lungs, the streets were empty save for you, crouched on the curb, your face buried in your arms, spent, shattered, and alone. You were only nineteen at the time.
You are now twenty-two, and the word “cold” has become a regular guest in the lodgings of your heart. You never invite it over, but you’re no longer surprised to find it at your door. It’s a thief, swiping pieces of you when it thinks you’re not looking—a fragment above the fireplace, a scrap from the cracks between the couch—and you know whenever you’re being robbed, know that you lose parts of yourself upon its every visit. But better that than acknowledging what you lose.
You allow it to walk away with full pockets every time.
Hyunjin does not.
“Three words to describe yourself. Go,” he said a few days ago, the two of you heading back to the tour bus after a filming session.
You were so used to these irrational inquiries of his that you didn’t bother trying to dodge this one. “You first.”
“Smart, sexy, suave,” he said immediately, but burst into a sheepish laugh at the sight of your weary glare. “Fine, fine, let me think. Ambitious, for one. Introspective, definitely—maybe overly so. And artistic. I’d like to think so, at least. Satisfied?”
The most creative person you knew doubting his own ingenuity was absurd to you, but you nodded begrudgingly. It was a good answer, for the most part.
“Now you.”
Honestly, the thief had surfaced the moment you heard the question, but you weren’t sure if you wanted to inform Hyunjin of its existence. Not because you didn’t trust him—you did, more than you had anyone in years—but because you didn’t know what you’d do with yourself if he agreed. You weren’t sure your heart would be able to take it.
When you met the boy’s gaze, though, the carob brown of his eyes was so curious and so comforting that you suspected that was never a possibility.
“Cold,” you mumbled. “I’ve been called cold before.”
There was a pregnant pause. You found yourself holding your breath. And then—
“That’s a joke, right?”
Hyunjin began to count off his fingers.
“Mean. So mean. Impossibly, infuriatingly confident. Talented, stubborn, strong. Funny, sometimes, I guess, though I’d rather you hit me with a metal pipe than admit that ever again.”
At this, you caved; a laugh erupted from your lips, leaving a genuine smile in its wake.
“Determined. Eloquent. Bossy. Some kind of evil, twisted genius. Contemplative, caring, compassionate. Fearless,” he went on. “You get my point. You’re a lot of things, Y/N, but cold isn’t one—”
He was about to say something mind-numbingly stupid. You could sense it in the air.
“—and not just because you’re hot.”
You smacked his bicep, the smile on your face now an uninhibited, helpless grin. And as he vanished into a fit of high-pitched laughter, you thought you sensed him crack open your door and slip your missing artifacts back to their rightful places.
Hyunjin began to climb into the bus, and you caught the cuff of his sleeve, your feet still planted on the pavement.
“Thank you,” you said.
The tremors of his fond chuckle traveled to your very core.
“Idiot,” he sighed softly.
Idiot, you write, and the drawings are complete.
When you stand up, the bottle is mostly gone—and so are you. You splash some water on your face in lieu of your skincare routine and prod the inside of your mouth a few times using a dry toothbrush, and then you dive beneath your duvet and are dead asleep in minutes. Your slumber is interrupted only by dreams of a world where your theories about Hyunjin aren’t just theories.
If you’d had even one mouthful less of rosé, you might’ve remembered that you picked up your phone and opened your most recent conversation somewhere between steps two and three.
[3:10 A.M.]
To: Hwang Hyunjin (Stray Kids, JYP)
Audio Message.wav
Hi. I’m drunk and I’m going to regret this tomorrow. But that’s tomorrow’s business. There’s something I need to tell you tonight.
After I moved to Seoul, I used to get these bouts of homesickness. Not in a standard ‘I wanna go home’ kind of way, but in a way that felt like a hole had opened up in the ground below me. I was always ready for it to swallow me alive. I would’ve been happy for it to.
But I haven’t felt that way since I met you. I realized this not too long ago, and it threw me for a fucking loop. I’ve never felt seen the way you see me. I’ve never been known the way you know me. Every time I look at you or hear your voice, it feels so much like returning home that I don’t have to dream of it anymore.
You called me fearless the other day, but you’re wrong. I’m terrified. I’m terrified that history is going to repeat itself, that another home will slip through the cracks between my fingers and there will be nothing I can do to stop it. And that’s why I’m so hesitant towards you, towards whatever this is, because I don’t want to go through that ever again.
So the thing I need to tell you is that I care about you. I care so much that I’m scared speaking it into existence will make it real and vulnerable to all the worst parts of the world. But it’s not speaking it into existence if I’m drunk, right? Maybe I have no idea what I’m talking about. Maybe you’ll never even hear this. So it doesn’t count. That’s how that works, surely.
Sorry if this was totally nonsensical. And sorry that I’m so bad at feelings. You must think I’m impossible, and I don’t blame you.
Good night, Hyunjin. Thank you, again.
One month ago. Los Angeles, United States. 12:37 A.M.
When Hyunjin steps out of the hotel’s tall glass double doors, he’s wearing a teatree facemask, and his bags are draped over the crooks of his elbows like he’s an upper-echelon socialite on his way back from a lavish shopping spree. And then he sees you standing next to the curb, and the situation dawns on him in bits and pieces.
You’re the only one here. The vans that were supposed to take you to the airport are nowhere to be seen. Boarding begins in four minutes.
A soft flinch crimps his features. Oops.
“Tomorrow night,” you’re saying into your receiver, but your attention is on him only, your penetrative gaze putting the dead in deadpan. “The absolute earliest. You’re sure?”
When you finish listening to the manager’s response, you heave a sigh that sags your shoulders and end the call with a jab that should’ve splintered your screen protector.
Then, you start walking towards him.
“Hi,” Hyunjin says, his eyes pleading for mercy. “You are so talented and beautiful. I don’t tell you that often enough, do I?”
He expects you to grab him by the cuff of his ear again, to throw him a retort that’s twice as mean as it is witty, something along those lines. But you merely push your suitcase in his direction, and it is then when he notices that your face is hard enough to chip enamel; that your eyes are eerily, entirely empty. The tendril of warmth that’s always dancing among the subtleties of your expressions, that he’s always pursuing to the very borders of his dreamscapes, is nowhere to be seen.
A shiver travels down Hyunjin’s spine as he curls his fingers around the plastic handle.
Something’s not right.
“We’re gonna have to stay here another day,” you say. “Can you check us in? I have some calls to make.”
“Us?” Hyunjin repeats.
“Junghan could only reserve one room,” you reply, your phone already glued back to your ear. “The hotel is fully booked for the next few months.”
With that, you’re already preoccupied with the next thing, turning to the side to reschedule a meeting. But Hyunjin can only stare blankly at your profile, trying and failing to grasp that he’s going to spend a night with the subject of his every daydream. Though you might be leaning more towards the nightmare end of the spectrum at the moment, considering the way your head snaps back in his direction like a woman possessed.
Go, you mouth, and he obliges.
A few minutes later, Hyunjin is in the elevator by himself. He speculates it’s an ingenious, intentional choice that the lights are turned off, so that whoever’s inside can watch the psychedelic lights of Los Angeles sprawl further and wider the higher they go. But he can’t think of anything except for the subzero nothingness where your irises should’ve been.
Hyunjin’s initial guess was that he crossed a line with this missed plane, but the more he thinks about it the clearer it becomes that this isn’t an isolated issue. It’s the culmination of something bigger. Something continuous.
You have become as familiar to him as the lines of his eyes or the ridges of his knuckles. He’s learned where to look for your feelings when he can’t find them in your face; studied your words and the undertones of your voice like they’re verses of scripture. Yet, it was around two months ago when Hyunjin looked at your side profile and couldn’t recognize you. He’d blinked, startled, and then you’d asked why he was looking at you so strangely, and everything returned to normal. He wrote it off as a side effect of sleep deprivation and paid it no more mind that day.
Except it happened again a few days later; again, not too long after, and Hyunjin began to suspect that he was losing his mind. You didn’t seem all that different—a bit more taciturn than usual, maybe, but you’d been busier than usual, too, your workspace always full of empty coffee cups by the end of the day, the pages of your planner more colorful and crammed than ever. The minor variances never struck him as a reason for worry.
“Stupid,” Hyunjin whispers bitterly.
He replays your interaction one more time. You, shoving your suitcase against his palm, telling him to go check in. Him, fastening his hand around the handle, sensing the bottomless void within you, feeling like he’d been dismissed from before your throne.
As he steps off the elevator and walks towards your designated room, he doesn’t understand how or why—but he can’t shake the feeling that he’s failed you.
Nearly an hour passes. The room only has one bed, so Hyunjin turns off the lights, folds himself onto the armchair by the floor-to-ceiling window, drapes a complimentary robe over his shoulders, and tries to sleep. He doesn’t know why he even tries. He’s exhausted, but he knows damn well there’s no hope of him getting any rest until he has you in his proximity again.
He doesn’t look at the door when he finally hears it open, but the knot of tension in his chest comes undone as soon as your silhouette appears in the hallway. He takes out his first real breath since leaving you at the hotel’s entrance.
You hear the sound it makes. You fall still.
“Hyunjin?”
His heart physically aches at how tired you sound. “Yeah?”
“Oh, you’re awake,” you answer. “Move to the bed. You’re not sleeping on that thing.”
He remains where he is, his chin resting on the side of his fist, his eyes glued to the flickering panorama of neon lights below him. You crouch to unzip something, and there’s a heavy thud of metal meeting cloth, presumably your laptop being tossed onto the bed’s mattress.
“Hello? Did you—”
“Is everything okay?”
A short pause follows his interruption.
“I still have a few emails to write, but everything’s been rescheduled, so as long as you don’t miss tomorrow’s flight, too, we should be—”
The robe slides off his lap as he pushes himself to his feet. “That’s not what I mean.”
The only source of light in the room is the lone light above the entrance, but it’s enough for him to see your face and the surprise etched upon it. You open your mouth, utter one syllable, and stop yourself immediately after, stunned into silence by the sobriety in Hyunjin’s expression.
“Enlighten me, then,” you say finally.
“You really don’t know?”
“What is there to know? That you missed a flight and pissed me the fuck off? Trust me, I’m aware.”
“No, that’s not—”
“So what are you talking about, then? Why are you talking in riddles? Fuck, what is it that you want from me?”
There’s real frustration in your voice, and it’s the first time you’ve shown him any emotion in pure, unadulterated form. With this, Hyunjin understands that he was right; this conversation is heading towards a culmination of some kind, and so are you, with the devastating force of a natural phenomenon.
He wonders if you’re prepared to destroy yourself, too.
“I know how you are around me,” you whisper. “You’re always acting like you’re trying to unearth something, and I figure this ‘something’ must be wonderful, because you look at me like I’m made of stars; you speak to me like you’re serenading a lover. But I am constantly, ceaselessly haunted by the possibility that this ‘something’ doesn’t exist, that you’re looking for the wrong thing in the wrong person.
“I know it’s selfish to ask for anything more than what you’ve already given me—you’re so kind, Hyunjin, and you’ve been nothing but since the day we met. But grant me one more wish, even if it is the last time you ever do.
“Tell me what you see in me,” you plead. “Otherwise, I will spend the rest of my life mourning the months of yours that you wasted on me.”
With that, it occurs to Hyunjin, falls upon and cracks open his mind like a piece of firewood, that you have never been aware of—never asked for—the throne you sit upon.
For an indeterminate amount of time, the two of you stay there, standing in silence on opposite sides of your dark hotel room. You haven’t felt anything like this in a long time, your chest heaving with your heavy breaths, your vision muddied by both the lack of light and the desperation searing through your windpipe.
When Hyunjin finally begins to speak, his words wrest the oxygen from your lungs.
“After you moved to Seoul, you used to get these bouts of homesickness.”
Your mind careens; your heart reels.
“They came in a way that felt like a hole had opened up in the ground below you.” He takes a tentative step towards you. “You thought it was going to swallow you alive. You would’ve been happy for it to.”
You never got to listen to your voice note. You were blacked out when you recorded it and horrified when you discovered it in your chat logs the next morning; the wretched thing was unsent so quickly that you couldn’t check for a read receipt.
But there’s not a doubt in your mind that these are your words falling from Hyunjin’s lips.
“You haven’t felt that way since you met me, though.” He is only a few feet away from you now, and getting closer still. “You’ve never felt seen the way I see you. You’ve never been known the way I know you.”
God, you said that? Did you propose to him too?
“You’re terrified that another home will slip through the cracks between your fingers and there will be nothing you can do to stop it.” Hyunjin flattens his left hand upon the drywall next to your ear; pushes you back ever-so-gently against the hard surface. “I must think you’re impossible.”
And he brings his face so, so close to yours; looks at you with so much adoration, so much tenderness, that you feel the final bulwark around your heart fracture—
“I don’t,” Hyunjin breathes, cradling your cheek, “because you’re not. And I want to prove it to you, even if it takes me the rest of my life. That’s what I see in you.”
—and crumble.
You form fists in the lining of his hoodie. Hyunjin’s hand tightens where it lays over the curve of your jaw.
When you crash your lips upon his, he tastes the metallic sheen of electricity and the salt of tearwater both; he witnesses crying lightning, for the first time in human history.
Present day. Cannes, France. 9:15 P.M.
Hyunjin never thinks when he fucks you.
One part of it is that he physically can’t; his cognitive facilities shut down when he has you quivering beneath him, like his desire to pleasure you is too overwhelming for his mind to bear. The other part is that he doesn’t want to. He’s afraid that the voices of cynicism and trepidation that plague his mind every waking moment will taint the actualization of his wildest dreams.
Lucky for him, you manage to erase his mind on a daily basis with only one accidental touch or an apparition of a smile, so he doesn’t stand a chance whenever you let him between your legs.
“Trust me?” He whispers, imprinting the words upon the inside of your thigh.
“More than anyone,” you breathe, and just this has him tenting against his satin slacks.
Hyunjin used to see you scolding managers or moving racks twice your weight and think that was you in your element—tonight, he learned otherwise. You were so confident that even just the way you puffed your chest out prompted heads to turn and low voices to ask for your name; so charming that even by the end of your self-introduction you had every guest you spoke to eating out the palm of your hand.
Eating out your pussy, though, is Hyunjin’s privilege alone.
He wraps his fingers around the hem of your dress and pushes it upwards, creating a halo of red fabric around your midriff; slides your panties off your legs and tosses them over his shoulder. All obstacles out of the way, Hyunjin winds his arms around your thighs and pins your hips to the mattress, slotting himself between your knees as they fall apart. Your ankles fold over the top of his head, and you’re about to ask if he’s okay like this, but then you feel the hot muscle of his tongue trace over your dripping folds—and every word of every language you’ve ever known is dispelled from your brain and your mouth in the form of a stuttered, euphoric moan.
He teases you first, drags his mouth over you so that he’s lapped up all of your slick, and just when you feel your patience thinning he pulls you apart with reverent hands and begins to suckle on your clit, as attentive to your every solicitation as always. You arch your back so high off the bed that your ankles knock Hyunjin’s head down a few inches, but the new angle is even better; grants him access to more of you.
He reinforces his grip around you, presses his torso right up against the side of the mattress, and gorges: sluices your labia until you’re spilling from his chin onto the sheets; flicks against your bundle of nerves until it’s pulsating and swollen on his mouth; fucks his tongue against your favorite spot until you’re curling your toes, seeing the whole solar system.
“Coming,” you blabber after some time. Tell me something I don’t know, he thinks to himself. “Coming, Hyune. I’m—fuck—”
Hyunjin is aware of the way you clench so hard around nothing that your pelvis hurts. He is aware of the way you’re so dilapidated from pleasure that you’re genuinely struggling to breathe. He doesn’t care. He wants to get the cadences of your climax tattooed into the gray matter of his brain, and there can’t be rests in the sheet music, can there?
He presses a hand flat on your stomach in preparation for your body’s protest, then returns his face to its place between your thighs; starts to leave kitten licks around the edges of your puffy folds before you can finish riding out your high. You press your tongue against the back of your front teeth, emitting a pained hiss as you draw a sharp breath, tears stinging at your eyes.
“Son of a bitch—”
“Trust me?” He asks again, his voice vibrating against your sore cunt, and your complaints quiet into whimpers as you bring a hand over your quivering mouth, and nod.
At least Hyunjin bridles his thirst the second time he eats your pussy open, his lips smacking openly and slowly over your every inch except the one that would be truly unbearable for you right now. He’s so rough and so fucking careful at once like he can’t decide between obliterating and worshipping your cunt.
He’ll end up doing both.
Within a few minutes, your legs have gone slack on either side of Hyunjin once again, and another coil has begun to tighten behind your bellybutton, equal parts pain and pleasure—but he knows your pussy just as well as he does your person by now, and it’s not long before the former is compounding with the latter.
Round two has a faster ascent and a steeper drop. He finds your spot again with the precision and ease of a trained marksman and fixates upon it like a man starved. It has your cries devolving to incoherent profanities and, to his unfettered delight, your foot actually shaking, your heel tapping against the back of his neck every time it comes down.
As if referencing a metronome, Hyunjin matches the rhythm of his tongue to your accelerando. Only when your leg is nearly convulsing does he wrap his lips back around your clit; slide two fingers into the place he leaves empty and pumps them into you until you are liquifying, igniting around him, your mewls lamenting the second orgasm he plucks from your core.
After your body has stilled, Hyunjin lifts his head, his face drenched in perspiration and saliva and you. His eyes travel over the slopes of your arms and the hills of your breasts, over the tears streaming from your eyes and staining the pillow you lie on. It is this last bit that has him shrugging off his shirt and undoing his dress pants with one hand, palming his throbbing cock with the other.
He clambers over you, and the kiss that follows is filthy, your mouth falling apart when he rolls your nipples between his fingers, strands of spit suspending between your tongues before dripping down onto your collarbone. You can sense what he wants in his craving lips, his pleading tongue—and you know he won’t ask for it. He’s tested you enough tonight; he’d rather your comfort than his pleasure.
But you guide his leaking head to your entrance, returning his stupefied look with a watery smile.
“Love me?” You ask this time, for the first time.
There is not even a nanosecond of hesitation when he answers, “with everything in me.”
He comes inside you the moment he bottoms out, your name leaving his lips in breathless, desperate repetition like a broken prayer as he topples off the same cliff he’d dropped you from moments ago. You curl a hand in his hair as he stutters against you, bring your lips flush against his ear, and whisper that you love him too—and the sight of you beneath him blurs he also starts to tear up.
This is the reality Hyunjin lives in, presumably because he was a saint in his past life, and it would be his utmost pleasure to see it through.
Two years later. Milan, Italy. 11:28 A.M.
For the last half hour, a ray of sunlight has repeatedly struck the diamond that sits between the second and third knuckle of your ring finger, and the Vogue journalist on the other side of your desk thinks he is slowly losing his vision. But when he asks his final question, your hand comes to a much-appreciated stop, the fountain pen you’ve been twirling around clattering to your tabletop.
“Where do you find your inspiration?”
As the journalist blinks the phosphenes from his eyes, he finally manages to get a good look at the face of Versace’s newest designer, and he detects something ineffable and warm in your expression.
“My inspiration, hm?” You fall silent for a short time, thinking. “If you asked me this at the start of my career, I’d have said ‘people.’ Their postures, their expressions, their wardrobes. I knew I was a goner when I watched a fashion show for the first time and noticed how the models’ attire helped them harness their innate power and grace—I wanted to orchestrate that kind of symbiosis, too. In that aspect, nothing has changed, actually. I still find wonder in human beings, and not just the ones on the runway. I think it would be difficult not to, don’t you?
“Some time ago, a good friend of mine was having trouble with an outfit for her client. She asked me a similar question, and only then did I realize that it was no longer just people that inspired me most, but a singular person. I had always been skeptical of the idea of a ‘muse’ until I met him. But I could only spend so long denying how he ventured closer to my soul than anything ever had, how he knew me and saw me like nobody ever could. He understood my art. He was my art, so—”
Your eyes dart over your ring, and the journalist would’ve flinched out of habit if he wasn’t so mesmerized by your eloquence.
“—where better to find inspiration than inspiration himself?”
A few seconds elapse, and then you clear your throat and straighten your back, returning to your office from your trip down memory lane.
“That’s the long answer, anyways. The short answer would be my fiancé.”
The journalist laughs, and he doubts you’ll give him this next piece of information—but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t try.
“And who would that be?”
He’s right. You don’t answer the question. But you do flash him an enigmatic smile, and for some reason it reminds him of lightning.
🔖 (send an ask to be added)・@astraystayyh・@like-a-diamondinthesky・@fire-08・@starsandrqindrops・@txtxlz・@laylasbunbunny・@strayghibli・@nuronhe
© 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐱 (est. 090323) · 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤? please consider reblogging, commenting, or sending me an ask to let me know; or, read my other works here. thanks so much for the support ♡
#hyunjin x reader#stray kids x reader#stray kids smut#skz x reader#hyunjin smut#skz smut#k-labels#hyunjin imagines#stray kids imagines#skz imagines#hyunjin fluff#stray kids fluff#skz fluff#hyunjin scenarios#stray kids scenarios#skz scenarios#stray kids#hyunjin#*writing#*oneshot
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love languages | charles leclerc instagram au
pairing: charles leclerc x reader
charles and y/n show off their love languages, gift giving and words of affirmation.
charles_leclerc
liked by yourusername, scuderiaferrari and 661,083 others
charles_leclerc: sometimes facilitating your girlfriend's hyperfixations works out
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yourusername it's defo better than the cupboard full of yarn from when i wanted to start crochet
charles_leclerc you're a much better dj than crocheter (sp?)
landonorris you're coming for my brand
yourusername hush child i've been playing guitar hero since before you were born
landonorris you're two years older than me?
yourusername i was a cool fucking kid
danielricciardo so all i'm hearing is flat party
yourusername if you bring the alcohol i'm down
charles_leclerc it's literally my flat?
user223 they're my parents omg
yourusername
liked by charles_leclerc, pierregasly and 40,133 others
yourusername: who said boys don't like flowers?
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charles_leclerc i love anything from you <3
user521 the way they just use their instagrams to flex their relationship
user762 like we get it you're happy LEAVE US ALONE
landonorris you posted your rizz on instagram ???
yourusername it's called a love letter loser
landonorris cringe
yourusername just say you're lonely and bounce
charles_leclerc you guys good?
charles_leclerc posted to their story
[caption: learnt how to bake because there's no good cinnamon rolls in monaco for y/n]
carlossainz55
[caption: ever want to feel lonely? sit with charles when he's on the phone to y/n}
charles_leclerc
liked by yourusername, pierregasly and 773,087 others
charles_leclerc: happy birthday to the love of my life, you've changed my life more than you can know. with only a few races left this season, we can celebrate properly soon xx
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yourusername i love you so much charles, virginia woof and i shall be cheering for you all the way til the end xx
user12 god when is it my turn
user44 i beg she gets to give a radio message if charles wins in abu dhabi
user77 OMG PLEASE I NEED IT
scuderiaferrari happy birthday y/n!!! looking forward to seeing you in abu dhabi
user404 it's happening ITS HAPPENING
yourusername added to their story
[caption: nowhere i'd rather be, believe always]
charles_leclerc
liked by yourusername, scuderiaferrari and 1,076,223 others
charles_leclerc: what i'm feeling right now can't be put into words. we've been working for this my whole life, sacrificing so much and losing so many people. i can't say it doesn't hurt not having them here to see it, but i know they're proud. to the tifosi, i am beyond happy to bring the championship back to maranello and take ferrari back to where they belong. y/n has always said my love language is gift giving so consider this my gift back to you for all the support you've shown me over the years. and finally to y/n, you're not only my escape from racing at home but also my focus on the road. i take your letters to every race and will always think of you when i cross that line, i love you and this championship is just as much yours as it is mine. forza ferrari
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pierregasly congrats calmar!! everyone is so proud of you
yourusername this is yours charles, and yours alone. you've worked for it, you deserve it. i'm so proud and honoured to even be a part of your journey. i love you.
charles_leclerc i hope you're ready for three months of nothing but me
yourusername i can't wait
scuderiaferrari CONGRATS CHARLES FORZA FERRARI
user16 omg he actually did it !!!! congrats charles
user689 her radio message, they're really in love man
yourusername
liked by charles_leclerc, daniel ricciardo and 70,458 others
yourusername: thank god i got my nails done. no joke i love you so much charles, i can't wait to write you letters for the rest of my life.
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charles_leclerc i'm glad i booked the right nail salon. no jokes i can't wait to buy you random shit for the rest of my life.
user44 OMG HE DID IT
pierregasly congrats!!! bagsy best man
carlossainz55 that'll be me actually
arthur_leclerc it's me actually
yourusername you know he already asked seb right?
user88 so do we think he planned to wait until he won the championship to propose or?
charles_leclerc i did want to wait, but i was proposing this year no matter what, needed her to be mrs. leclerc as soon as possible
user88 AHHHHHHHHHHHHH
#f1 instagram au#f1 x you#f1 x reader#f1 imagine#charles leclerc instagram au#charles leclerc instagram edit#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc imagine
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The Lonely Arc
Nora watched as Jaune sat away from everyone, away from all of their friends and allies, and away from all the noise, he was simply looking at the night sky and the stars that came with it.
She knew why he was alone, why he was away from all the happy people... because they all had someone, even her.
Jaune, meanwhile, had given up his love, his dreams of a future and a family, for them...
"Do you love him?" Nora asked her.
Gillian looked up at Nora with sad amethyst eyes. "I do..." she began. Gillian then looked down as she sniffled. "Please don't take him away from me..."
Nora eyes widened with shock before she became confused, "What do you mean?" She asked.
"He love you all, he do anything for you, he'd give up everything if you or Ren, or that Ruby girl told him to stay away from me, that it wouldn't be safe or right to love someone like me... You can do it, you know that don't you? All you have to do is say the words and he'd never see me again..."
Nora was taken aback by Gillians words, "Jaune... Jaune wouldnt do that..."
Gillian nodded, "He would," She replied. "He doesnt care about his own happiness, only thise around him, you know that, you've seen it, he took that mission to be undercover to protect Ren, he didnt care if he branded himself a traitor, or if Ren or you hated him, as long as you were safe and happy, he would be fine... know I've never given you any reason not to do it, but please don't do that to me... don't take him away from me..." Gillian told Nora, as tears finally fell from amethyst eyes.
Nora walked up to Jaune, and stood next to him, "Hey," she greeted.
Jaune seem to jump a little as he turned to face her, a small and soft smile on his lips, "Hey, Nora," He greeted back.
"Are you alright?" She asked.
"I'm..." He began. He took a deep breath in before letting out a heavy sigh, "I'm fine," He said.
Those words struck Nora's heart like a knife and she could feel that Jaune said those words with such sadness that it could be mistaken as the final words of a man who would never see a loved one again.
"You should go to her," Nora told him
Jaune's head snapped to her, "what?" He asked with a confused and shocked tone.
"Gillian," Nora said. "Go to her, see her, tell her... tell her you love her Jaune, and that no matter what, you won't leave her,"
Jaune’s eyes looked at her with worry, "But what about-"
Nora set her hand on his shoulder, stopping him from finishing his sentence as she looked at him with a gentle smile. "I'll support you, I'll back you up when it comes to her and you, so go to her, and don't think about what the others will say or want... just do what you feel is right in your heart," she told him.
Jaune was shocked, "Nora... why?" he asked.
Nora's gentle smile didn't waver, "Because you deserve to be happy, Jaune," She said
Jaune's expression turned sad, and without a moment of hesitation, brought her into a hug, which at first, shocked her for a few seconds, but she reciprocated it.
At that moment, Jaune had regained his sister, and Nora got her brother back.
#rwby#jaune arc#gillian asturias#jaune x gillian#rwby jaune x gillian#rwby knightscrown#knightscrown#jaune arc x gillian asturias#rwby rising dawn au
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can you make a short fic of harry and reader when the the banner moment happens or after that??
you know i’m not the best at this but i’m giving it a try. PLEASE send feedback !
ask me anything | masterlist | likes and reblogs are appreciated ! | support me <3
15 NIGHTS AT THE GARDEN
Emotions were all over the place at Madison Square Garden’s backstage, the clinking of champagne glasses along with congratulatory speeches were heard all around the room as a way to celebrate the 15 sold out shows at the world’s most famous arena.
The grin on Harry’s face was evident as he thanked everyone who approached him to applaud his milestone, from his friends to the arena’s crew, and holding his own glass of champagne and wearing a small smile, his eyes started wandering around for you.
It was when he reached the now empty pit of the arena when he found you, just a few hours prior, the room was filled with feather boas, glittery hats and more than twenty thousand people who came together to celebrate him. Right now, it was just you and him, looking up at the brand new addition to the arena.
“HARRY STYLES. 15 CONSECUTIVE NIGHTS AT THE GARDEN”
Was what the arena’s brand new banner said, a banner that would permanently stay there, as a reminder of what your boyfriend had achieved.
“You know I wouldn’t have done it without you, right?” he said as he approached you, bringing you closer by wrapping both of his arms around your waist, leaning his chin of your shoulder “All these songs are about you, all of this is because of you, my love”
You smiled, the feeling of elation increasing at the sound of your boyfriend’s voice. Turning around to face him, you placed your hands on his cheeks before you spoke “This is all you, you did this, baby” you said while looking into his eyes, and the fact that they were glossy and watery told you that he was still very emotional about the night’s events “Maybe I inspired you to write the songs, but the words aren’t mine, honey, they’re yours. All the people who filled those seats every night, they were here for you, because you have impacted their lives in ways no one else could. You deserve this, and I’m so proud and happy for you” you finished, feeling your own eyes getting watery, still holding his face between your hands, and pressing your foreheads together.
“I’m so damn lucky to have you” Harry chuckles, leaning in to press a kiss to your jaw and then nuzzle your neck, you put your hand on the back of his neck and caress his hair, letting him embrace you and holding him right back.
“I’m the lucky one, I mean, not everyone can say that their boyfriend has a banner permanently hung up high at Madison Square Garden, right?” you joked, feeling his laugh vibrate against your neck before he pulled his face out of it, looking into your eyes.
“I love you so much, YN” he said looking right into your eyes, and his expressed what he had just said, you could feel the love radiate from him.
He’s walking joy, walking happiness, walking love
taglist: @cucciolafaerie @eleanordaisy @sunflowersndpeaches @golden-hoax @alienorknight @daydreamingofmatilda @sunflowervolume66 @vanteguccir @ivyproblems @ayeshathestyles @stylesmygucci @gimsaysay @rosaliedepp @dontworrysunflower @milfrrynation @manifestrry @iceebabies @harrystylesrecs @pleasingrryyy @harianaswhore @leadmetogarden @abeanontoast @grapejuice-rry @vrittivsanghavi @msolbesg @tati813 @sad1esgf @ivegotparticulartaste @wobblymug g @eviesaurusrex @olivialovesh @itsgabbysblog @theekyliepage @gumballavocadoharry @watermelonsugacry @be-with-me-so-happily @a-strange-familiar @reveriehs @musicforcinemas @rafeyyyyy @tinydeskwriter @noooovaaaaa @tenaciousperfectionunknown @mxltifxnd0m
#harry styles imagine#harry styles fluff#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles story#harry styles fake instagram#harry styles blurb#harry styles one shot#harry styles x reader#harry styles writing#harry styles x you#harry styles au#harry styles fic#harry styles fanfic#harry styles concept#harry styles series#harry styles fic rec#harry styles masterlist#harry styles drabble#1k
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The end of the year can be tough for a lot of people. My goal? To make it a little bit brighter. That's why I'm pleased to once again announce the return of...
The Portal Holiday Spirit Initiative!
To help bring a smile to people's faces this year, I will be sending FREE Portal-Themed Holiday Cards to anyone who asks for one! There are a few changes to the cards this year because life has gotten very busy for me and I have less free time than in years past.
This year there will only be one card design, featuring artwork from one of the Portal Fandom's awesome artists! The cards will still be customizable to any Winter Holiday of your choosing, but you'll have to wait for your card to arrive in order to see how (the method takes cues from the Portal game's sense of humor, so it will very much be on-brand).
This year is also special because it is PHSI's 5th Anniversary! I can’t express the amount of thanks everyone who has participated over the years, whether you've reblogged and shared, requested cards, helped with artwork, or helped in other ways. You all deserve my recognition and thanks for volunteering your time, talents, and support! Thanks for helping to make PHSI a special fandom tradition!
If you would like to receive a Portal-Themed Holiday Card:
Visit bit.ly/PHSI-2023 ...
Answer the questions in the forms...
Wait for your card to be sent!
It's that easy! Card Requests are now open, and close on December 20th in order to give me enough time to make and send all the cards before the end of the year. Please submit sooner rather than later so I have time to finish them all!
Also, please don’t be afraid to request a physical card if you don’t live in the US! The card service I've chosen says they ship worldwide and, while it might take a bit longer for you to receive your card depending on what country you live in, the cards will get mailed to whatever address you provide, domestic or foreign. Last year I mailed/emailed a total of 164 cards to Italy, Canada, Germany, England, Poland, The US, The United Kingdom, Brazil, India, and Slovenia!
I’m happy to be a part of the Portal Fandom and hope to bring a smile to others in the Fandom this year! Making and emailing Holiday Cards takes time and effort, and sending physical cards is expensive. While it isn't a requirement to receive a card, I would greatly appreciate if you'd like to give $4 to cover the cost of your card or someone else's. Please visit ko-fi.com/247testing and click the Donate button if you want to help out.
Also, feel free to DM me with any questions or comments. Thanks!
Answers for common questions and concerns under the cut:
Worried about providing a mailing address, for whatever reason?
PHSI has an eCard option! All you need to provide is a name for me to call you by and an email address to receive your card!
Worried about requesting a card because you don’t live in the US?
PHSI mails to any address provided, whether domestic or foreign! However, please wait patiently for your card, due to the current global rate of shipping.
Worried that you can’t give $4 to cover the cost of your card or someone else’s?
Requesting a card from PHSI has been and will always be FREE! However, giving $4 to the initiative helps me pay for the printing service and postage to mail physical cards (visit ko-fi.com/247testing if you’d like to contribute). I gratefully appreciate any contributions received, even if it’s just a comment saying thanks!
Worried because you don’t know how to support the artist of the card you received?
The artist’s social media is listed on the back of every card featuring their artwork. Look them up, commission them, reblog their art, and support them however you can!
Worried because you haven’t received your card yet?
Double check your email inbox and junk folders. I send everyone an email that either confirms your Holiday Card has shipped or includes your eCard! Physical cards take 1-2 weeks to arrive. If your physical card fails to show up after the first week of January, please reach out to me and I’ll send you a replacement eCard!
Worried because you received your card and don’t know what to do now?
Make a post about it! Include pictures, videos, or anything you’d like, and tag me in the post (@24-7-testing) so I can reblog it! If you don’t want to show your card off, that’s ok too!
#PHSI 2023#portal holiday spirit initiative 2023#5th year of PHSI!#5th anniversary#psa#please boost#portal fandom#still alive#aperture science#aperture laboratories#portal#portal 2#fandom tradition
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💌A Message From The Universe💌
P I L E 1 ~ P I L E 2 ~ P I L E 3
How to pick: Take a deep breath and choose between the three images above. It corelates with the message that is meant for you. Trust your intuiton; only you know what is truly best for you.
P I L E 1 ♡ ~ A New Perspective
Ten of Wands, The High Priestess, The Emperor, The Moon, Eight of Swords (Reversed)
You feel burdened. You feel disconnected from yourself and your intuition. I feel that the man problem, is that you don't trust yourself or your inner voice. Let that voice guide you. Listen to yourself because you know what is best for you. You don't have to listen to everyone who thinks they know what is best for you. With it being the holiday season and Christmas is days away, you may be around family that isn't all that supportive of you and what you want with your life. They have put you down since you were a kid but know that you are not that kid anymore. You are capable of standing on your own two feet and it's time to stop making excuses for their bad behavior. You don't have to keep that kind of negative energy in your life, even if they are your relatives. Just because they are blood related, doesn't mean you have to call them family. For a lot of you, this person is a father figure in your life, but they haven't treated you the way that a father should. You were a kid and you deserved better then, and you deserve better now. Your anxiety around this is very loud but you know what you want to do more than anything. You know what path you want to take, and you know what people you want to cut off. Let yourself be happy. Go into this new year prioritizing your wants, needs, desires, hopes and dreams. It's time someone chose you and who better than yourself. Open up your heart and your mind to new possibilities; a world where you can have what you want. It's time for a new perspective.
Channeled Song: I'm Tired by Labrinth ft. Zendaya
now the tide is rollin' in // I don't wanna win // let it take me, let it take me // I'll be on my way // how long can I stay // in a place that can't contain me // hey Lord, you know, I'm tired // hey, Lord, you know I'm tired //
if you feel called to tip, you can on c@sh@pp at $oddlycozycottage and on p@yp@l at @oddlycozycottage
If you want a more personal reading, you can see how to book a reading here
P I L E 2 ♡
King of Pentacles, Seven of Cups (Reversed), Four of Wands (Reversed), Nine of Wands, Ace of Pentacles
You have been doing some spring cleaning around your life. You have been making changes that you saw needed to be made and it has really brought you back to reality; almost like you are sobering up. You could also be on a sobriety journey and if you are, know that I am very proud of you and I'm rooting for you. If no one else is in your corner, know that I am. You have been doing a lot of hard work and you should be celebrating yourself but, for some reason, you aren't. You may have this mindset of believing that you can't celebrate because there is so much more work to do. That may be true; we are all works in progress. That doesn't mean you shouldn't celebrate and be proud of how far you have come! I'm so very proud of how far you have come. You're looking at all that you still have to do, but you aren't paying attention to what you have done. You can rest, relax and bask in your victories. Take a break because you have earned it. You are meant to be prosperous, and you have new opportunities coming in and you should be confident in taking them because you worked hard to get them. Again, I am so proud of you and all that you have done. Keep going and do not give up.
Channled Song: A Brand New Day by The Wiz Cast
everybody, be glad // because our fear and dread is gone // freedom, you see, has got our hearts singing so joyfully // just look about // you out it to yourself to check it out // can you feel a brand new day? // can you feel a brand new day? //
if you feel called to tip, you can on c@sh@pp at $oddlycozycottage and on p@yp@l at @oddlycozycottage
If you want a more personal reading, you can see how to book a reading here
P I L E 3 ♡
The Star (Reversed), Two of Pentacles, Four of Swords, The High Priestess, Ace of Pentacles
Your head is not in the right place, right now. You are too focused on the negative and it seems that you have lost hope. You're working to balance things on your own and that is only making things harder for you. You may feel like you're at sea and the boat going up and down with the harsh waves. Let go of the things that you don't need and ask for help with the things that you cannot. I'm getting that you are very overwhelmed at this time. I'm seeing juggling and everyone keeps adding more and more balls, making it so hard to keep up. You don't have to take it. You are allowed to rest and to have some peace and quiet. You may be feeling like you can't take a break right now because, if you don't do it who will? I'll counter that with, why was it set up for you to be the only one who is able to handle things? Why is it you or nobody? Why can't people do it themselves? Sometimes, you just have to say, "if I have to do it, it's not going to get done," and that's that on that. You know that these people are capable and able. They just know they can rely on you to always do it. Stop being reliable. They need to learn to do things on their own and without you because you are not going to always be there.
I don't have a specific channeled song, but I am seeing vacations, beaches and just relaxing, which you deserve, so if you can get that, I suggest that you do.
if you feel called to tip, you can on c@sh@pp at $oddlycozycottage and on p@yp@l at @oddlycozycottage
If you want a more personal reading, you can see how to book a reading here
LEGAL DISCLAIMER: FOR ENTERTAINMENT PURPOSES ONLY. THESE READINGS ARE FOR ENTERTAINMENT PURPOSES ONLY. no guarantees are implied. These readings are not a substitute or replacement for any professional help or services. My readings are not a substitute for any form of professional legal, medical/psychiatric, relationship, religious/spiritual or financial/ business advice nor consultations. You should always see a professional legal/trained adviser for help in any matter. I am not responsible for any decisions/ actions you take.
#pick a card#pick a pile#pick a photo#pick a picture#pick an image#pac#pap#pac reading#pap reading#pink amethyst tarot#tarot#tarot reading#tarotblr#free tarot reading#tarot community#collective message#collective reading#free tarot#pink amethyst#225#525#111#1111#212#888#999#777#445#678#1234
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collide - Sam Kerr x singer! reader social media au!
summary: Final Part to the nudged series
A/N: i’ve really enjoyed this series i hope you enjoy the last part
liked by samanthakerr20, baby/n, masiepeters and 1,680,789 others
y/noffical: a series of event since finding out this news, thank you @taylorswift for trusting me with your baby!guess i have two reasons now to stay in aus ❤️ #TheErasTour
taylorswift: it’s my honour 💜
masiepeters: THATS MY GIRL
alannahkennedy: congratulations girlie
baby/n: omg i’m so proud and EXCITED TO SEE MY GIRL ON THE BIG STAGE
mummy/n: mmm also two reasons what’s the first @y/n mmmm
zendaya: couldn’t think of someone more deserving SO EXCITED
samanthakerr20: so proud my girl ❤️
katrinagorry: our girl ma’am
samsleftboot: this is so girlfriends coded and i love it
baby/n: mums supporting mums out here
mummy/n: i think we can finally confirm this and i am HERE a for it
liked by y/noffical, katrinagorry, and 1,204,001 others
samanthakerr20: we’ll cats out of the bag thought i’d claim shes mine @y/nofficial 😏
matalidas: captain making goals on and off the field
mackenziearnold: on ya skipper
katherinegorry: i just want everyone to know i facilitated this
baby/n: YES MAAM I CANNOT BREATH
mummy/n: i retract my statement THIS IS A LAUNCH
masiepeters: very nice kerr
thegoodwitxh67: bestie approves we can only support
user456: i agree wholeheartedly
y/nofficial: oh you big sook
samanthakerr20: oh you love it
y/noffical: took you long enough sweetheart
liked by alannahkerrfav, masiepeters, zendaya and 1,290,670
y/noffical: my girls playing against france today LETS GO TILLIES 💚💛
zendaya: double dates very soon my girl 🫶
y/noffical: oh wait till we get back to the uk you won’t be able to get rid of me x
tomholland13: we’ll see how our matches go first #lionessesforthewin
samanthakerr20: ouch tom.
tomholland13: @samanthakerr20 ha ha go chelsea i can agree on
alannahkennedy: excuse me where is my special good luck post
mackenziearnold: and mine
katrinagorry: and mine
y/noffical: guys i feel ganged up on i promise i will show my love and appreciation to you later x
samanthakerr20 : and mine
y/noffical: bro what are you on
samanthakerr20: i didn’t want to feel left out
baby/n: mums are mumming and i am loving all the content
liked by katrinagorry, y/noffical and 50,678 others
alannahkennedy: was taking this cute photo of me and bean but these rands interrupted it smh
y/noffical and samanthakerr20 tagged
y/nunoffical: omggggggggg gay gay gay
samanthakerr20: @y/noffical you’re blocking my good side sweetness
y/noffical: i think you’ll find you’re eating my face
samanthakerr20: roasted 🔥🔥🔥
y/nbaby: seriously now come on get a room but also don’t…
samsleftboot: alannah absolutely dropping this bomb is so on brand
matildas: we love this for them 🫶
#sam kerr imagine#sam kerr x reader#fanfic#sam kerr fanction#samantha kerr#social media au#wlw#fire lord zuko#alta
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With so many of the greatest writers leaving the writing in our fandom, I was wondering if you could recommend some newer or even older fic authors that are of the same level? I don't want to stop reading Johnlock, it's basically all I read anymore! I know I'm spoiled with having read fics by @chryse @breath4soul @arwamachine @7-percent @therealsaintscully @ohlooktheresabee @runnfromtheak @meetinginsamarra and @jbaillier
I understand that not everyone wants to dedicate their lives to writing fanfic, or have outgrown the fandom, or real life has become overwhelming. By no way am I demanding more fic from these amazing writers. I'd really just like to know of any other wonderful writers that are just as good. I need to feed my addiction hahaha! Thank you for your advice and suggestions, I love you!
Hey Nonny!
Ah, I get what you mean :) Our authors are people too, who have lives that keep them busy, AND they still provide us with amazing fics for free!! <3
That said, because I ALWAYS feel like I'm going to miss some great authors, I'm gonna once again default to: you can always be guaranteed "newer" fics in the fandom by checking out my weekly #FiveFicsFriday posts!! It's a weekly collection of new fics suggested to me, often brand new stories in the fandom! Here are over 1000 fics for you to check out on these lists:
YEAR ONE MASTERPOST (Sept 29/19 to Sept 25/20)
YEAR TWO MASTERPOST (Sept 25/20 to Sept 24/21)
YEAR THREE MASTERPOST (Oct 1/21 to Sept 23/22)
YEAR FOUR MASTERPOST (Sept 30/22 to Sept 22/23)
But honestly, I think every author is amazing here!!! Without them we wouldn't have the amazing content we have! Always support our authors and artists <3
If anyone wants Nonny to check them or their faves out, please don't hesitate to add themselves to the notes!!
(and if you don't think you "deserve" to be listed among these authors, STOP BEING SILLY!! We love you!! <3)
#steph replies#author appreciation#fanfiction#johnlock fic recs#fandom love#i love all of our authors#i'm slow af to read these days#but please give all of them a chance and some love!!!#because even stephen king had a first story first draft <3
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Hey everyone! Remember when I told y'all I was gonna make a huge post about Harumi Shirai being playable? Well, it's heeeeere!! :D ✨️
Before we start! A thanks to @meme099 for requesting this post and a thanks to all my Harumi girlies (in special @mikka-minns @thedragonholder @madamealtruist @orbitinytheworld and @running-with-the-feels ) who have always been so supportive of my Harumi content! Hope you guys enjoy this!🩷
🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸
Canon info used as inspo:
Harumi and Kuai are childhood friends and are in a relationship;
Harumi is head of her clan (that is not the Shirai Ryu);
Harumi uses her knowledge as Grandmistress to help Kuai and Tomas assemble the Shirai Ryu;
Harumi has connections with the Umgadi.
Everything else I used is based on Headcanons of mine, Harumi's clan being the most blatant case, I'll be linking previous posts in case you want more details!
I wanted to make Harumi a brand new character, with her own unique backstory and skill set! (It's what she deserves)
With all that in mind, LET'S BEGIN!
🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸
TW: This will be much more explicitly violent than my regular Tumblr content, as there will be Fatalities and Brutalities. I know in this Fandom this is expected, but as it's not usual for MY content, I feel like a warning is welcome!
New Playable Fighter: Harumi Shirai🌸
🌸 Bio:
Fierce leader, talented herbalist and honorary Umgadi, Harumi Shirai is the head of her clan, the Order of Cetrion.
Founded by her ancestors and composed by women only, her clan uses their skills to aid the Elder Goddess of Life and Virtue, Cetrion, in her never-ending mission to protect all life in Earthrealm.
Nowadays, Harumi is not only the Grandmistress of her clan, but also mentor of her childhood friend and lover, Kuai Liang, as he struggles and persists in his quest to assemble a clan that will rival the Lin Kuei's might and serve as Earthrealm's new line of defence.
For more of my thoughts and HCs on Harumi and her clan, you can read these:
🌸 Gear:
As stablished in the previously mentioned posts The Daughters of Cetrion are herbalists with access to Outworldly magic and spices, so most her arsenal will reflect that!
Bottles of healing potions and deadly poisons.
Pouches of grated herbs that can heal, cause allergic reactions and, of course, kill. (Pocket sand!)
A scythe (small one, used to harvest plants but can and will slit a throat)
It is canon that Harumi has connections with the Umgadi and it's safe to assume she was trained by them (my HC is that Li Mei was her teacher), so I gave her an Umgadi skill:
Umgadi energy constructs. Only the Grandmistresses are allowed to learn this skill from the Umgadi. Harumi's constructs are pink and she shapes them like flowers and red foxes (a nod to her Animality).
🌸 Skins:
Now being quite fair, MK1 can be hardly known for its variety in skins. It is however, pretty creative when if comes to colour palettes, so I decided to rely on that!
Bellow you have Harumi's main outfit, the long sleeve nods to her canon fit while the rest was made with her clan in mind (the main reference were Cetrion's outfits)
The Grandmistress: The main colour. This is her Grandmistress outfit, all in pinkish tones, which I HC to be her family's colours)
The Scorpion: 1st colour variant has my Scorpion!Harumi colours, with a brighter shade of pink and yellow (the flower on her hair nods to her Scorpion hairpin)
Daughter of Cetrion: 3rd variation brings her clan's colours, a mix of her family's colours and Cetrion's. The colours are to represent their commitment as protectors of life and nature.
Li Mei's Apprentice: 4th variation is for her Umgadi outfit! She wears the traditional shades of yellow and silver!
The Shirai Ryu's Bride: 5th variation has Kuai's colours (and yes, the name is a nod to their relationship)
Honorary Lin Kuei: 6th variation might look controversial, but I find it hard to believe Harumi was only Kuai's friend. I HC Harumi was named honorary Lin Kuei warrior many years ago. (She wears Bi-Han’s colours to imply they were once friends too)
Bonus info:
Kuai has two of her colour palettes, "The Grandmistress" as nod to their relationship and "Daughter of Cetrion" as I HC him to be a honorary Cetrion warrior;
I drew Harumi slightly different here to make her resemble her new face model, Jiwon Ra, but I kept some of my HCs, meaning her freckles and slight heterochromia;
The tattoo on Harumi's arm is the Umgadi insignia and the pendant on her belt is her clan's.
🌸 Special moves:
Fireworks: Harumi shoots fireworks through her finger (Umgadi magic) they work as projectiles and can be shot to any height and also as she jumps or ducks; (it looks like Charlie's fireworks)
Witchy makes you dizzy: She throws a concoction that makes the opponent dizzy (it inverts your remote);
Pocket sand: She throws a pouch that makes the opponent cough (makes them stand in place)
They don't bite... much: Harumi creates two foxes with her constructs and sends them to bite the opponent;
Cetrion's healer: She uses one of her potions to heal herself.
Bonus: For stronger hits and during kombos, she will strike with her scythe;
She throws bottles and pouches of potions during her kombos.
The first and fourth move can become Brutalities. With "Fireworks" she blows up the opponent and with "They don't bite... much" her foxes eat the opponent alive.
🌸 Fatal Blow:
Beware the Forest Witch:
Harumi blows one of her powder mixes on the opponents face, the powder makes their skin itchy and they scratch their face aggressively (drawing a lot of blood).
She steps back and sends her foxes, the creatures start to bite, one of them givas a particularly strong bite, breaking the opponets leg, the other breaks their arm right after.
Harumi finishes the move with a firework attack, breaking the opponents ribs and sending them away!
The Fatal Blow can also be used as a brutality, her foxes will tear the opponents limbs off as they bite them!
🌸 Fatality:
Sacrifice for the Goddess:
Harumi uses her constructs to open holes into the opponent's chest and stomach.
She calmly walks closer, holding a pouch and a bottle as she's still deciding which one to use.
She places the pouch in the opponent's stomach hole and the bottle on their chest hole, only to change her mind at the last minute and replace the bottle with another one from her belt.
She places a smaller bottle at the opponent's mouth and slowly walks away.
The bottles and pouch explode into plants and vines with beautiful flowers that start to grow inside the opponent's holes and mouth as they fall backwards. The opponent starts to look like a gory flower pot.
From the opponent's mouth grows a singular pink flower, which Harumi gently plucks and sniffs as her victory is announced.
🌸 Intro animations:
When she's pushed away by her opponent, she carves her scythe on the ground to stop her momentum. Her foxes constructs are already by her side. She pets them to assure she's ok and raises up saying "my foxes will be eating well today"
When she's the one pushing, she distances herself with a one-handed cartwheel and a back flip. Her hands glows as she moves, summoning flowery shapes around them. She mocks the opponent calling them "fertilizer for Cetrion's gardens"
🌸 In-between rounds animation:
When she wins: She recreates her foxes constructs and pets them, sweetly calling them "good boys"
When she loses: She uses one of her potions to "heal" herself (she'll grunt in pain and anger as she does)
🌸 Victory animation:
She will use her constructs to slightly recriate this one victory animation of Cetrion from MK11. Her foxes will be lying by each of her sides.
🌸Ending:
"The arrival of Titan Shang Tsung inspired many other foes to rise and act on their darkest desires.
In their path they left behind only death and destruction. Among their victims, were the Living forests and the Capital of Seido.
As Daughters of Cetrion, it is my clan's duty to protect life and preserve the nature. Such disasters would never pass unnoticed by us.
Lady Cetrion healed the forest and put a stop to the flood that had already killed so many. In a way only her magic could!
My sisters and I helped as we could, searching for survivors, protecting and healing them.
Once they were out of harm, it was time to get them justice. Reunited with my old friends and mentor in the Umgadi, we went after the responsible for this atrocity.
Havik, the agent of chaos."
🌸 A few intro dialogues:
🔥 With Kuai:
Harumi: Don't think I'll go easy on you just because you're my fiancé.
Kuai: I know you'll go harder on me because I'm your fiancé.
--------------------------------------
Kuai: I'll join you against Havik in a heartbeat.
Harumi: I appreciate it, but you already have much in your plate, Grandmaster.
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Kuai: When you're around Hanzo, do you ever feel...
Harumi: Like I've met him before? All the time.
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Kuai: So, about those comic books you borrowed?
Harumi, chuckling: We're married now, Sunbeam. What's yours is mine!
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Kuai: So when you said "Summer camping" you actually meant training with the Umgadi?
Harumi: Uh... Surprise?
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Kuai: So you and Tanya...?
Harumi: So you and Cyrax?
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Kuai: You think things will ever get better with Bi-Han?
Harumi: Of course! As long as we don't give up on him!
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❄️ With Bi-Han:
Bi-Han: I only wish to speak to my brothers.
Harumi: And your men lurking on my territory, are they here only to speak too?
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Bi-Han: Step aside, Harumi, this is family matter.
Harumi: Have you forgotten, dear? I am family.
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Harumi: Come alone to the Shirai Ryu. Let's put our differences aside.
Bi-Han: So you can stab me in the back?
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Harumi: We used to be friends, Bi-Han.
Bi-Han: Regrettably, Harumi, things have changed.
--------------------------------------
Harumi: So how is Cyrax doing?
Bi-Han: Your concoctions have been quite helpful...
--------------------------------------
💨 With Tomas:
Tomas: Are you sure Hanzo is over 18?
Harumi: *Sigh* For the last time, Tom. Yes!
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Tomas: Wait, you know Kuai has a crush on you?
Harumi, chuckling: Who doesn't know?
--------------------------------------
Harumi: You drank my truth serum??
Tomas: it's not my fault you stash your potions with the kitchen spices!
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Harumi: The Shirai Ryu is turning out great!
Tomas: And you thought we were total lost causes!
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Harumi: Where did you say you found your apprentice again?
Tomas: He fell from a tree!
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Tomas: So your Umgadi friend Jade...
Harumi: Want me to introduce you to her?
🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸
So for now I only have these dialogues with the Sub-Zero siblings, but I'll tell you that:
If you want so see Harumi interacting with other characters, you can send me an ask with the character(s) you want and will make some intro dialogues with them! (Maximum 3 characters per ask, please)🩷
🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸
Yoo folks! We made it!! Playable Fighter Harumi Shirai at your services!!!
Thank you very much for reading, I hope you have enjoyed!
If you have thoughts, questions and/or suggestions, please DO TELL! I'd love to chat to you about my girl!💕
🌸 🦊 ✨️
#harumi shirai#harumi hasashi#lady shirai#scorpion!harumi au#the order of cetrion#umgadi#character headcanons#character design#mk1#mortal kombat 1#kuai liang#kuairumi#bi han#hanzo hasashi#subscorprumi#scorpion#cetrion#li mei#mortal kombat#my art <3#thought a “read more” would be welcomed so i added one
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Cobweb Summer: A Modern! Aemond Targaryen x Reader fic
Aemond has liked you since he met you, so much so that your room in the Targaryen summer estate has an adjoining bathroom to him. He supports your indie Perfume and Cologne brand and makes sure you get invites to every red carpet event his family can pulls strings with. Aemond wants nothing more than to give you his mother's ring one day. the only problem? You've been in a PR stunt of a relationship with his older brother for the past two years, and you've just caused a public scandal. aegon x reader, aemond x reader
A/N, Warnings, etc: this came to me in a dream but im only gonna continue if like, people like this lol. drinking, smoking, toxic relationships, cheating, tmz is its own warning, this'll get explicit later
Aemond swipes up on the app for twitter, sick of all of the judgement and commentary he sees, and most of all, pictures of you. It’s not you that he minds, it’s the fact that in said pictures you’re wrapped around Aegon and smiling and showing off diamonds he draped you in accompanied by vicious rumors of infidelity and gold digging. It’s just as you said would happen, and he contemplates venmoing you a courtesy five to accept your inevitable ‘I told you so’ rant later tonight.
BOSS BABE AND OLD MONEY: RECIPE FOR DISASTER? (Link: popcrave)
Of course Y/n would try to disgrace the Targaryens, she was a STARFUCKER at the end of the day.
… tarnishing the Targaryen name…
Countless other tweets using words to describe you that make Aemond want to commit some terroristic crime. No one should speak about you like that, even if you called it ahead of time.
It’s almost exactly what you said they’d say when he found you on the balcony Saturday morning.
You looked beautiful, you always do, but this time in a perfectly disheveled way. You’re barefoot on the balcony of your bedroom, make up smeared, hair wild, your Vivienne Westwood dress from last night bunched up and wrinkled, your collar of necklaces askew and more than a few had turned so the clasps were resting along your throat. You were smoking one of his cigarettes, staring down below.
“Rough morning?” Aemond remembers asking, and now feels stupid for even saying anything. It wasn’t like you to look anything other than put together. He’d come to your room that morning to find it empty, which was not unusual, ready to flop himself on your bed and smoke and chat shit before breakfast like he was doing every morning this summer.
You looked at him, eyes red and rimmed with unshed tears, and something in Aemond broke. He’d seen you angry, seen you throw glasses and screech and threaten to stab his brother with your Louboutins. He’d held you in a way a boyfriend’s brother probably shouldn’t while you, hungover, did a social media wipe to purge Aegon’s reputation of the night before.
“Wanna watch the beans dry with me?” you asked. What the fuck? Aemond, puzzled, looked down below the balcony, and sure enough there were baked beans dumped onto the hood of Aegon’s white Range Rover.
“Why beans?” Aemond asked, knowing it was probably deserved.
“Lysa informed me that once they dry you have to get the entire paint job redone,” you say, “But it’s been like two hours and they still look wet.”
“Hmm,” Aemond couldn’t think of something to say. He had no doubt Aegon deserved whatever got his car covered in beans. Aegon was always doing something.
“Lysa also informed me that she found Aeg this morning in bed with Baela’s plus one,” you rolled your eyes, and Aemond noticed how pretty your make up from last night looked, even if smeared.
Last night had been your birthday celebration, a bacchanal of a fancy dress party on the grounds of the Targaryen summer estate, a sprawling castle with a lake. You’d picked fairy tales as a theme, everyone in corsets and embellished Rococo era frocks and wings and suits of armor. You’d blown out the candles with your supposedly loving boyfriend and took pictures for the press and everything looked perfect. It wasn’t uncommon for you and Aegon to sleep separately, in fact, it was so common Alicent made sure you had your own room in both the regular house and the summer estate, which Aemond was sure you had to be thankful for.
Apparently despite the party, all was not well, which was no surprise when it came to Aegon doing his part. Aegon had a habit of pulling these kinds of stunts, but never so publicly disrespectful as to let you and the maids find out. You were fine with indiscretions, as you had told Aemond once, but not with humiliation or disrespect. He could have someone’s on the side of this sham of a public relations stunt, as long as he didn’t make you look like a fool. You hadn’t had yours, whether it be from actual affection or just laziness, Aemond didn’t know. Which he figured was odd, as he thought he knew you well. You were his friend first before all of this mess, as it was.
“I’m sorry,” he offered, and he remembers how you scoffed at him.
“Why? It’s not like you would fuck someone at my birthday party,” you ashed your cigarette dangerously close to his hand where it rested on the stone railing.
It was unsurprising when Aemond hit his older brother in front of the guests after breakfast.
In the aftermath of the weekend, all of the revelers have left, and Aegon in his ruined Range Rover having gone back to his penthouse in King’s Landing again to pretend to work from home for the firm. It’s not that Aemond hates his brother, he as quite a bit of love for him, but Aemond lost any desire to go clubbing or on a boys weekend with him once this arrangement between you and he began, and his temper has been more than erratic.
Aemond knows you’re probably reading all of this, probably distracting yourself from work and making yourself sick. He pushes himself off the couch in the main parlor and takes himself through the seemingly endless corridors, through his bedroom, through your shared bathroom, and into your bedroom. He only needs to look up, to the little lofted study Alicent had contractors build for you; Alicent has quite the affection for you, most likely because of your importance to at least two of her children, and because the two of you gossip like fiends about your shared favorite authors.
“I told you so,” you say, not even bothering to look away from your macbook, absolute venom in your tone.
“What would you have me do? Kill my brother? Kill Isla?” He asks, quickly climbing the little spiral staircase with his long legs, “You say the word, I’ll do anything for my oldest friend.”
You don’t make any comment about how realistically you’re the only friend he has that he isn’t related to.
“Who’s Isla?” You ask, only now looking at him.
“She’s…”
“Oh,” you realize, “Never say that name again.”
Aemond grimaces.
“C’mon,” he motions, urging you up from where you sit cross legged on your chair. You stay put, turning back to your phone. You unlock it and pull up your messages, then thrusting your phone into his hand.
It’s a thread of texts between you and his brother.
Aegon’s Number: TMZ will back off if I give you my mother’s ring, is that what you want?
Your Number: That ring is Helaena’s. I want to break up.
Aegon’s Number: Helaena gets MY family’s ring. I’ll give you mother’s family ring. It will look nice in your perfume ads.
Your Number: Charming, really Aeg. I told you not to humiliate me and you could not even do that. This arrangement is over, I’ll say it was amicable.
Aegon’s Number: What will the tabloids say about you and your little start up when we break up but you’re still deeply enmeshed in my family? Don’t forget that reputation matters to you.
Your Number: Don’t forget I am Aemond’s friend first, you are a business partnership.
Aegon’s Number: I love you too!
Aemond hums, scowling as he hands your phone back to you. He despises his grandfather and father for a moment, for putting you through this.
Had he known that bringing you home for his birthday after meeting at a professional development course would mean you being subjected to Aegon for two years now, he would have never brought you.
“Let me get you out of here,” Aemond offers, hoping a dip in the lake or a game of croquet will bring you some joy.
“Can’t,” you sigh, “I’m doing damage control.”
You point to the screen, a bunch of analytics pulled up and at least thirty tabs open.
“Can I keep you company then?” Aemond asks. You shrug noncommittally, and turn back to your laptop.
Aemond gathers a bunch of pillows, and lays on his stomach amidst them on the floor. Silence settles peacefully between the two of you, and it’s genuinely nice.
Aemonds phone vibrates, and reluctantly, he reaches for it.
Reading the notification, he realizes this is probably the last moment you and his family will have peace for quite a while.
He decides against showing you his phone.
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we all need love chapter 6.
chapter summary: third date's a charm, right?
pairing: yunho x reader
genre: workplace au, ateez ensemble, fluff, romance, angst, eventual smut, hurt/comfort
warnings: we have finally gotten to the smut (minors dni), petnames, pretty tame for now i think, let me know if i should add anything else !
word count: 4.0k
(previous chapter) (next chapter) (masterlist)
[Wooyoung] Whooooo wants to go the bar with me friday night?
[Choi Jongho] Absolutely no one.
[Choi San] I don’t think that day will work
[Yunho] I’m busy sorry!
[Wooyoung] Bro... what about y/n i can always depend on you right
I’m also busy…
[Wooyoung] I miss work for one day and suddenly everyone has plans :(
[Kim Hongjoong] woo are you dumb
[Wooyoung] Wait a second
[Wooyoung] Oh my god.
[Wooyoung] You know what I think I’ll do a movie night instead! By myself!
[Song Mingi] i’ll join you
“Well someone’s happy today!” Wooyoung teases as you walk into the office. He’s been relentless everyday, spouting some combination of encouraging support and playful jabs.
“10 hours,” you sigh as you sink down into your cubicle. Your workload was easy enough this week, but you kept getting distracted easily, the mere thought of making things ~official~ sending you into daydream mode. Wooyoung always snapped you out of it with a lighthearted jab, you knew he found it just as funny as you did.
“You know if he does anything you don’t like-”
“You will all yell at Yunho so he never hurts me again, I know,” you cut him off. Every single one of them has pulled you aside or privately texted you to express just how much they’ll defend you if anything happens.
He only chuckles, “I just wanna make sure you know! He’s a really nice guy, but things happen, I don’t know.”
“I can fend for myself, but I appreciate the backup,” he nods and gives you a genuine smile.
“I’m so excited for you guys, really! His last relationship didn’t end terribly or anything, but he’s such a romantic person I was hoping someone deserving of him came along.” He sounds more serious now, and it hasn’t really crossed your mind what Yunho would be coming to the table with. You’ve been so focused on how much you’ll have to explain about yourself. “Please don’t break his heart, okay?” Wooyoung makes one last quiet request before turning to his own screen and settling into work mode for the day. You don't respond, but you repeat his words to yourself mentally. You won't break any hearts this summer.
You started getting ready almost immediately after getting home, risking no chance of running late. The place he picked out wasn’t fancy in the slightest, so you went light on the outfit, a nice denim skirt and cute top. The plan didn’t necessarily include either one of you coming home for the night, but you tidied up the living room just in case. You didn’t really mind the thought of him in your apartment anyway.
The road you live on is fairly quiet at this hour, so you figure the next car you hear pull up to the building must be him. You take one last look in the mirror before grabbing your bag and nearly jumping down the stairs. It still didn’t feel real in your head, such a perfect person being into you as much as you’re into them. Intrusive thoughts of how quickly you could sabotage the date only flood your mind briefly before you open the front doors and spot Yunho standing against his car.
“Are you ready?” he beams at you, holding out a hand to help you into the front seat.
You giggle and accept the offer, “more than I’ll ever be.”
The interior is all sleek black. It doesn’t look brand new, but it’s clean and orderly. It smells like him. You fidget with the hem of your skirt as he rounds the car and settles into the driver’s seat.
“Anything in particular you want to listen to?” You tilt your head at the question, and he quickly adds that it’s okay if you don’t.
“No I like listening to music, I’m just not sure what I should show you,” chuckling, you whip out your phone and scan through your playlist. Yunho has mentioned a few of his favorite songs in conversation, and seeing as neither of you were particularly picky it shouldn’t be so hard to find something. You make up your mind and press play.
“Fun,” he bops his head to the beat, occasionally tapping a finger on the steering wheel. The car ride is mostly silent between you two, and you can’t tell if he’s just as nervous. Ever since San told him your feelings, he’s had a new aura around him. He’s playful and teases you to no end, like the rest of them, but surely he must be giddy too? Maybe he has more experience than you thought.
The hostess guides you to a small window seat, but by now it’s completely dark outside. She hands two menus to you before tending to the next reservation, and you settle into the booth. You had mentioned in the car that you like knowing what to order beforehand, and Yunho offered to order it for you, so you had nothing to do for the next few minutes. If the way his eyes rake over the laminated sheet means anything, he must be starving. His hair is parted down the middle, somewhat pushed out of his face, and his face is scrunched cutely in concentration. He’s wearing a button down and slacks, but it doesn’t look so formal that it stands out. He’s good at looking effortlessly put together.
“Good evening! Can I get you started with some drinks?” A waiter appears in front of your table, directing all his attention to Yunho. You expected as much, and gladly let him take the lead.
“Actually I think we’re ready to order!” He takes one last look at the menu before reciting both your orders perfectly. Once he’s sure the waiter has them down correctly and is out of earshot, he lets out a long sigh.
“That didn’t upset you, did it?” He frowns a little, “I don’t know why he didn’t even acknowledge you.”
“Oh no it’s fine I promise,” you take one of his hands into your own, “it was a shitty move but I hate speaking so it works out in my favor.”
“As long as you’re fine,” he sighs again and squeezes your hand. No one’s ever really noticed that before, at least not while you were on dates. You always subconsciously clocked it as some form of sexism but never made a fuss, so seeing Yunho so distraught is a foreign feeling. You’re eager to change the subject.
“So what made you like me?” Smooth, definitely not too direct at all.
“Oh?” He chuckles, “I thought I already told you why when we were at the park. I feel so comfortable around you, and you’re really good at what you do. It’s admirable.”
“That can’t possibly be enough to have a crush on-”
“You’re incredibly pretty, too,” his hand that was sitting in yours pulls away to rest on his cheek, tilting his head playfully, “I’ve been wanting to kiss you since you arrived.”
You stare, shocked, as the waiter comes back to drop off complimentary water and a promise of food coming soon. He only grins, stirring the ice in his cup with a straw before taking a sip. This wasn’t the shy, polite man you originally liked, but his teasing only makes you want him more.
“Too forward?”
You shake your head a bit too aggressively, almost completely ruining your hair, “No no no, I have too! You’re really cute.” No amount of talking could help you recover from how flustered you are right now.
“Aw,” fluttering his lashes, “so that’s why you like me?”
“I mean you’re also just really nice and observant of everyone around you,” you start fiddling with your own cup, “I guess I just felt comfortable with you, too.”
“Good to know the feeling’s mutual,” he breaks his teasing act and chuckles, and you can only manage to nurse the ice cold water in front of you. “I’m sure the guys have bugged you a lot so I don’t know what you know, but it’s been a long time since I’ve liked someone so much. It’s nice.”
His ears are that familiar bright red again, “are you nervous, Yunho?”
“Only a little,” he blushes even more at the question, rubbing his ears a bit and giggling, “are you?”
You nod, “I got dumped earlier this year and I wasn’t planning on doing anything this summer, so yeah. A little more than you are.”
“Why did he dump you?” A face of genuine confusion washes over him. It’s not that he thought it was a red flag, he just couldn’t think of a single reason anyone would abandon you.
“Ah, she just,” you sigh, wondering how much you should share. If you were a good person, you’d tell him everything. You’d tell him what your heart really desires and why your friends were being so mean that night you spent in his apartment. You’d be transparent about what you want out of a relationship, because that’s what first dates are for right?
“Sorry for assuming!” He shakes his head, “you can continue, though, I promise.”
“I think she just grew apart from me, I don’t know? We spent all of college together, but I think we were going in different directions.” He nods understandingly, and you feel a ping of guilt in your gut.
“Yeah that happens. I had a girlfriend my freshman year, but we ended up not having a lot of overlapping interests or anything. Conversations fizzled out quick.”
It’s your turn to nod, and Wooyoung’s words rattle around in your brain. Yunho’s a romantic, someone who puts his all into everything, including relationships. You could tell as much just seeing how he interacts with his friends, but hearing the disappointment in his voice scares you. The slight guilt you felt has grown into a consistent, dull ache of anxiety.
“Have you seen anyone since then?” You shuffle a bit in your seat, your breakups lingering in the air.
He nods, chuckling, “a few flings here and there, but nothing substantial. I don’t really love hookup culture, but I haven’t found anyone I really like.”
“Until now!”
“Right! Now I have someone I want to impress. She’s so pretty and nice, I just want to take care of her.” He stares at you fondly now, still blushing from his round cheeks to the tips of his ears.
“Oh really?” You trace the rim of your now empty cup with one finger.
“Mm, all my friends like her too. I think she’s perfect for me.”
“You’re so corny,” you laugh, slapping his hand. The anxiety fades as quickly as it appeared.
Your waiter might have the worst timing imaginable, because not even 2 seconds later does he plop a large slab of steak in front of Yunho. “Sorry ma’am, your meal will be out in just a few minutes!” You nod and watch him scurry back to the kitchen. When you turn your attention back to Yunho, his eyes are wider than you’ve ever seen in your life.
“Do you mind if I eat first?” He doesn’t look up at you, but you tell him it’s fine and watch as he instantly tears into his dinner, nodding excitedly at the first bite and shaking a fist as if he’s won the lottery. Your dish arrives a few minutes later as promised and you dig in as well, falling into a comfortable silence. Bits and pieces of conversations around you pass by, waiters rushing back and forth, a TV quietly playing golf highlights at the bar. You don’t want the night to end.
“This is your place right?” He pulls up to the curb and turns down the music. The car ride home was comfortable, both tired after some of the most filling and delicious meals you’ve had in a while. Fresh anxiety pooled in your gut at the thought of leaving him now.
“Do you want to come inside?” You offer and he’s smiling at you like he thought you’d never ask. “We could play games or something?”
“What games do you have?” He turns the car off and unlocks the doors, turning as much as he can to face you.
“I have a switch! I can start up Mario Kart or something,” his eyes sparkle at that, and you smile at your successful plan.
“Are you any good?”
“Better than you I bet,” you raise an eyebrow. He copies your expression before silently getting out of the car, and you follow. He doesn’t say a word as you lead him up the steps to your apartment on the second floor, or as you slink into your living room and settle in. You boot up your switch and download Mario Kart, and he only grins at you from his side of the couch when you hand him a controller.
“If I win,” he starts, eyes trained on the screen as he selects his kart setup, “I get to kiss you.”
You lean back into the couch and lock in your own kart, “deal.”
You tried your best, you really did. It might’ve been your best effort in the history of owning this game, even. But Yunho placed first in all four races easily, and by the last one he was so excited he barely waited for the scoreboard to appear before throwing the joycon to the side and grabbing your arm.
“This isn’t fair! I didn’t know you were a pro at this,” you argue, letting him move you with ease, thighs fully touching now and one arm slung around your shoulders.
“It was completely fair,” he chuckles just above your head. You look up and see his signature crooked smile plastered across his face, annoyingly proud of his own victory. His other hand comes up to cup your cheek.
“And now I get my prize.”
This time you’re prepared. It lasts longer than the kiss at the subway, his movements slow and intentional. His soft lips melt against yours and you feel his grip on you tighten a little, but it’s innocent. This time, you don’t let him pull away, though. Your hands wrap around his neck and you kiss back, leaning into him. He lets out a small, cute gasp before accepting you, and it all feels so natural. His lips moving against yours, your skin running hot beneath his hand, your leg against his. He tests the waters and swipes his tongue across your lip and you quickly respond, gripping the hair at the nape of his neck. He moves slowly and curiously, as if he has all the time in the world to explore you and he wants to spend every last second of it. But when his hand traces down your side to rest on your hip you know you need more.
“Lean back,” you finally pull away. He listens immediately, eyes glazed over with infatuation as he watches you swing one leg around him and sit comfortably in his lap. Your skirt rides up to your hips and his hands rub the newly exposed skin of your thighs, sending goosebumps down your legs.
“You know I really didn’t have any intention to sleep with you on the first date,” he mumbles, but you ignore him. You lean down and press soft kisses up his neck, purposely hitting every pretty mole on him, before making your way to his ear.
“Third,” you correct, “and it doesn’t matter, because it’s my intention now.” You feel his grip on you tighten even more and you continue to work your way painfully slowly down his neck, from one side to the other. He lets out shaky sighs at every small nip and suck, hands now fervently roaming around your body, squeezing any skin he can find. His fingers slide beneath your shirt and you can feel him make quick work of your bra, pushing you up just enough to slide both garments off.
You swear you feel him twitch beneath you, and he makes no effort to hide the way he takes in your exposed body, “where’s your room?” You can barely hear him, not when you’re so focused on the marks you’ve left on him and his blown out look. When you don’t respond, he pulls your hips forward, grinding against you. “Baby, your room?”
“The door with the poster on it,” you sigh at the friction. He wraps both hands firmly around your ass and stands up, effortlessly carrying you to your bed. He places you gently on the edge before nearly ripping off his shirt and pants, leaving nothing but the impossibly large tent in his underwear. You don’t have time to take in the sight, his large frame quickly maneuvering on top of you.
“I’d usually be more calm, but you’re so beautiful I can’t help myself,” he whispers, making his way down your neck. His kisses are aggressive and sloppy now, but just as slow as you were on him. His dick is pressed flush against your thigh, but when you try to roll your hips for some relief he presses you down with a firm hand. “Let me have my fun, love.”
All you can do is whine his name, fingers tangling in his hair as he sucks on your skin. At this point your clit is throbbing, heat spreading through you at every touch of his, but you know if you move again he’ll only get meaner. Part of you wants to try.
“Can I?” You feel slender fingers hook under your skirt and panties, and when you only whine his name again in response he takes no time pulling them off you.
“Yunho please,” you feel like you might start crying if he doesn’t touch you soon.
“So pretty for me.” He drops the last of your clothing on the floor behind him. “Did I get you this worked up already?”
Your legs falter a bit at his words, but he keeps his broad chest in between them, spreading you wide enough for his liking. You want to beg more, but he must read your mind because before you open your mouth his tongue is flat against your heat. He’s teasing at first, kitten licks with little pressure, but when you genuinely moan for the first time he gets to business. One hand wrapped around your thigh, the other makes its way below his busy mouth. Two fingers glide in, setting a slow and steady pace that only builds you up more.
He pulls up only briefly, fingers still going, to take in your blissed out state. You look back down at him at the loss of contact, but he only smirks, “I want you to watch me, love.”
All you can do is nod, struggling not to throw your head back into your covers as he goes back down. His long fingers brush against all the right places, his tongue flicking in perfect time to your building orgasm. He doesn’t speed up or slow down, he just keeps going until he feels your plush thighs clench around either side of him. You mumble his name over and over as it finally washes over you, feeling him lap up every last drop and holding your hips close to him.
“Fuck,” Yunho sighs, finally sitting up and letting your legs lay flat.
“How are you so good at that?” You prop yourself up on your elbows. Your head starts pounding a bit, but you still want more.
He chuckles and turns behind him, searching through his slacks left abandoned on the floor, “I told you I’ve had hookups every so often. I’m not clueless, you know.”
“I need to see what else you can do,” you tease, and just as you say it he produces a metal condom wrapper, grinning.
“Well you’re about to, if you’re up to it?” You almost ask why you wouldn’t be, but then you see it. You’ve only taken a few dicks in your life, but his was certainly the largest. He pumps a few times waiting for your response, parting his lips at the feeling.
“Yunho,” you mumble, taking in the sight. A thin sheen of sweat already covers his forehead, cheeks and chest a light shade of pink. He’s staring back at you, taking his bottom lip between his teeth as he etches your form into his memory.
“Is that a yes?” You nod and he slips the condom on before leaning back down over you. He kisses you again, as deep as humanly possible, and lines up with you. “Promise me you’ll say something if it hurts, okay?”
“I promise,” you smile up at him and he kisses you again, entering softly. You’d be lying if you said it didn’t sting, but it’s only for a second before you’re pulling him closer. He thrusts in again, fully burying himself this time, and you feel him groan against your lips.
“You’re perfect, you know that?” He sighs above you, setting a steady pace that has you digging into his shoulders. He drops his head into the crook of your neck, leaving open mouthed kisses on your hot skin in between his panting. You can’t help the stream of moans and curses that leave your mouth, you’ll have to deal with your neighbors’ complaints tomorrow.
One of his hands snakes down to your thigh again and he slows down to readjust. He leaves one last sloppy kiss on your jaw before straightening up and pushing your legs back, folding you in half. You grip the sheets until your knuckles pale, but nothing could prepare you for the feeling of him bottoming out in this position. He pistons into you, strangled breaths leaving his lips. You grab a pillow and bite down as hard as possible, it’s the only thing stopping you from screaming at the top of your lungs.
He gets sloppy quickly and you nearly orgasm at the sound of him groaning your name alone, voice deep and broken. His hips stutter, slamming into you one last time before he collapses on top of you. You both take deep breaths in tandem, recovering slowly and rubbing circles into his skin. He presses gentle kisses along your neck until he finds the energy to get up again, giving you a squeeze before sliding out.
“Did I wow you?” He jokes, discarding the condom and wrapper and finding a small towel to clean up with.
“Mm, I don’t know. Might have to try again,” you laugh, “there’s more towels in the bathroom across the hall.”
“We can in the morning baby,” his laughter is the last thing you hear as he disappears into the hallway. He quickly returns with a fresh wash cloth and a cup of water for you. You hold out a hand for the cloth, but he waves you away, cleaning you up himself. It’s so natural and careful you almost completely forget he was a stranger just a few weeks ago. You almost forget how temporary this all is.
“Don’t you need to get home?” you take a sip of water and hope it helps the dull headache from being jostled around.
He scoffs at you, genuinely surprised, “are you kidding me?”
“I just didn’t know if,”
“If I was joking about having you in the morning, too? Let me cuddle you to sleep or so help me god,” Yunho turns the lights off and flops onto the other side of your bed, tugging your arm. The longer you wait, the more he pouts and tugs, but eventually you give in.
You can’t help but leave small kisses all over each other as you lay entangled in the dark, neither of you wanting to fall asleep yet. His energy is overwhelming, heart beating softly against your cheek, thumbs rubbing small circles into your arms. You think this is the first night since you’ve arrived that you won’t end the day worried, that maybe this was the best possible way your night could’ve gone. Maybe the next few months will be okay. Maybe you should get some sleep.
And then you wake up, and he’s gone.
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#yunho x reader#ateez series#yunho series#we all need love fic#yunho smut#yunho fluff#yunho angst#ateez au
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CONTACT YOUR GOVERNMENT AND DEMAND A CEASEFIRE FOR PALESTINE
For Eu look up:
Voices in Europe for peace
For Usa look up:
US campaign for Palestinian rights
BOYCOTT FOR PALESTINE
FOA (Friends of Al-Aqsa) have organized a boycott in support of palestine. Here are the key companies to boycott:
HP (Hewlett Packard)
Coca-Cola
Israeli produce
We will be ending our call to boycott
PUMA once the contract with IFA officially dissolves in 2024. Until then, we encourage you to continue boycotting PUMA products.
Please help to spread the word by sending this copypasta to as many blogs as you can and/or going to FOAs website where you can find posters to download and print out
Ok I'm not a copypasta person unless it's memes but like. Look I'm not Palestinian but I'm also a Southwest Asian and my mental health has definitely deteriorated seeing just. Everything. Especially the increase in racism and islamophobia (I'm also muslim) and seeing all the hate crimes and knowing that someone could probably shoot me in the head while I'm writing gay fanfiction in public and justify it by saying that I could've been a dangerous terrorist and therefore my entire family tree must be eradicated-
basically what I'm trying to say is that I'm hoping that making this post on the himbo tourney blog will get some eyes on this. Like. I've been feeling really powerless about this and kinda just like shriveling up and dying lately. Tbh. The world is fxcked right now. In the year of our lord 2024 /ref, here we are post undertale we are being pro-genocide how funny is that haha. It's not funny. It's. It's not. It's not funny . I can't. I've seen too many videos of children dying and crying and I just. I saw the one thing about the kid with cerebral palsy whose parents got shot right in front of them for literally no reason and then they got yelled at by soldiers and like. People literally will look at this and call these people animals?? I saw that term get thrown around a lot. It's just disgusting and like.
have people seen the bingo the literal genocide bingo. People are treating this like a joke like. Do people not realize that Southwest Asian people are like... people??? We're people you know. Like this is mainly targeting Arabs but I've seen stuff about people discriminating against the rest of us too (mainly because they can't tell the difference. Because the idea of not treating Asian cultures as interchangeable applies until you get to Southwest Asia I guess even in progressive circles everyone just says Arab for everything even here I've seen people like-). I'm Persian and I'm still scared someone will cut my life off. I'm 16. Nowruz is next week and I just want to live to it with my family.
My mind is inundated wit the tears of the families that had never gotten to have their celebrations. Because of one group on one day.
one group on one day. One group on one day. it's always that. it's always that for people like us.I feel like I'm going insane. It's just 9/11 in America all over again. I wasn't even born for that. But you can just feel it all around you. And now we have the sequel, across the world. But it's used the same way. 7/23. Can't wait for the memes /s. This one thing happens therefore we can dedicate multiple months to killing all of you just making you suffer stripping your dignity you don't deserve anything and we'll make the world hate you because fxck you and then the world goes along with it because nothing good ever happens and I just want to escape from this but every time I go on tumblr it's just this and I know if I ever stop seeing this it means that the worst has happened anyway
and then people try to act like YOU'RE the bigot because you're trying to hold a country's government and military force responsible for war crimes just because the country has its branding in minority groups. How about I make this crystal clear: I don't give a flying fxck about what Israel is, it's what it's doing that matters. I'd be saying nearly the same shzt if they were PERSIAN, and that is MY ETHNICITY. I literally do not care. It doesn't matter. Because killing people is wrong and that should not be a controversial statement but I guess some people like the sound of screams in the morning. The Palestinian death toll has surpassed the 7/23 death toll. And it's still going. And not all the deaths have even been accounted for because bodies are still buried under rubble. Because they're still bombing people and they won't stop. And no one will make them stop.
like I don't give a fxck about Hamas either, I heard some of the members did genuinely say some like directly quoted antisemitic shzt and also they like condoned a racist caricature of a black woman in a magazine I think but I'm not sure about the second one (I know the magazine thing definitely happened but I'm not sure of their like involvement at all-) like. I don't need to suck there dzcks like some people do it's one group of fxcks like I don't. They're just the excuse being used for this. You're bombing the entire population of a country where the majority population is fzcking tater tots. You're attacking children. You are killing children. Paint yourself purple. Dammit. Just. Again it's 9/11 all over again but in another country.
even then like it's like. You know that trope in cartoons that shows up more often than you'd think that was in like Avatar and Korra and RWBY I think where there's like a fictional minority that is oppressed and wants rights and then active protest is represented by an evil terrorist group who attacks people and is the villains of the media and passive protest is always portrayed as good and active protest is evil and there's no nuance and also they just frame the group as just like evil spawned out of nowhere not addressing that they literally would not exist if not for the truly evil system of oppression that basically created them. Like.
You know Hamas only exists because Palestinians were already treated like shzt right? Like they were already displaced and didn't consent to the whole Israel thing and like look up Nakba it's fzcking awful like. Hamas is just a symptom of the disease and there will just be another Hamas if you try to knock it down without actually like. Doing anything about. the fact that Palestinians are oppressed. but people will just act like you can keep punching at Hamas like that'll result in anything like they're the flowers not the roots y'know-
also I'm calling it here, this entire thing is gonna definitely be used down the line by Neo-nazis I mean it kinda already is being used to justify antisemitism but like I saw the stuff of people trying to redefine antisemitism to be synonymous with antizionism and make isrseli and jewish synonymous and to basically gatekeep jewishness from anti-zionist jews (I'm not kidding I actually saw shzt like that) and it's like. Y'all they're gonna turn around in a year or two like "ohhh look at the big bad scary jews- I mean Israelis their identity is literally tied to the genocide of Palestinians they are inherently evil there is no denying it!" (Ignoring the fact that the USA and other bastards of colonization did the same shzt as Israel literally the same story history is repeating itself but we have social media brands this time-). And then like what the fxck do you do about it when the word antisemitic now means anticolonialist so no one takes it seriously anymore. What the fxck are you supposed to do about that. And when they probably made themselves right because they probably contributed to Palestinian Genocide themselves they don't care they're just using them as props in their fxcking jew hatred. But like. Yeah you are now tied to this nationality that is tied to fxcking genocide what do you do? It's like perfect to use for fearmongering around Jewish people since the shzt they used before somehow worked despite literally being pulled out of their xss istg like where the fxck did any of the bank stuff come from like. The fzck?-
im tired. I'm so tired. Both in the literal "It's past 1am" sense and the less literal "make the stop" sense.
I just don't want people to die. I just want people to be happy. I just want people to not suffer but every day it feels like it's getting worse and I just want something to change for the better and I'm scared. Why do people act like it's a bad thing to not want people to suffer? I don't understand. I just. I just don't understand. I.
am I naive? For this?
does this wish make me naive?
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Locksmith
If in ten years time
I'm still on your mind
Would you call and
Say you want this? / 1.4k
✨Part 1 ✨✨Part 2 ✨✨Part 3✨
A/N: This is the last part!!! I hope you've enjoyed this little series and thank you to everyone who has read and supported🥰 Writing this scratched a little itch for me and it was nice to just share it! Also locksmith is one of my favourite songs it makes my heart go🥹🫶🏻🥰🩷
Warnings: Post-Outbreak. Soft kind of angst. Hella fluff/soppiness. Self-aware Joel (which we 🫶🏻to see). Not proof read.
---
Days at the Bison kept you busy, distracting your mind from the branded image of Joel’s red eyes but there was no escaping him when he approached the bar two days later, no Tommy to swoop in and save you this time.
“Hey,” his voice was solemn, his eyes were pleading before he’d even truly voiced his request.
“Hi, what can I-“ You plastered on the same smile you did for all the customers, ready to serve him whatever poison he picked before he cut you off and your face fell at his words.
“No, no sorry, that’s not what I came in for.” His eyes faltered from your soft gaze to glance at his knuckles, gripping the edge of the bar, the skin coating his bones turning white.
“Oh, ok.” You felt slightly feeble under his gaze, unsure of what he could possibly want from you.
“Can I uh,” he coughed, like the words were clogging up his throat, his eyes still looking anywhere but at you. “Can I see you later?” You wanted to say yes immediately which made it hard for the devil on your left shoulder to fight the angel on your right, but ultimately he won the battle, raising his trident above his head. In the moment you decided that Joel couldn’t just swan in and call the shots whenever he felt like it.
“What for?” You crossed your arms across your chest and looked past him at the door.
“Jus’ wanna talk.” You scoffed at that; it pained you to do so. “Please.”
“Why? Why should I say yes?” He finally raised his head to look you in the eye and you noticed the water welling in them.
“You don’t have to, I know I don’t deserve shit from you,” he sniffled, letting out an puff of air, “look if you don’t like what I gotta say, you never have to speak to me again.”
You chewed at the inside of your lip, really taking in what he’d said. I don’t deserve shit from you. If you don’t like what I gotta say, you never have to speak to me again.
You were already deep in these feelings, every day feeling like you were stuck in a sinkhole, clawing at the ground to get out, what’s one conversation on top of all the others?
“Finish at 16:30” You grumble.
When 16:36 rolled around Joel was already stood outside on your porch, waiting.
He watched as your hands shook slightly around the keys, attempting to fit them into the keyhole and after a few beats his hand hesitantly clasped around yours. Your eyes felt as though they were going to pop out of their skull, whipping round to face him.
Joel had gained some of his confidence back after this morning, yours however, had depleted, your brave façade cracking quickly in front of him. You let him guide the key in before he stepped back to let you over the threshold first.
“Coffee?” You still remembered how he liked it.
He shook his head, no before gesturing towards one of the chairs in the living room, asking for permission to sit, permission that you grant him, perching yourself on the sofa across from him. The air between you is thick, like a weighted blanket but yet it somehow still doesn’t keep the cold away from your bones.
While Joel is trying to find his words, you take the time to look at him, properly. His beard had greyed and you liked it, his hair decorated with sprinklings of salt and pepper, something which you must have known deep down was inevitable but never thought about once whilst you were together, too busy being young and in love.
His eyes still captivated you and if anything, they were the very first thing you noticed about him and the very first thing you fell in love with, they never changed and they never failed to make you melt.
You noticed how his green flannel hugged his frame, arms nearly bursting the material at the seams and you had to will yourself to look away, to stop yourself from imagining how it would feel to be wrapped up in them just one more time. But above all else what you noticed is that he’s still your Joel.
For the longest time you’d convinced yourself that everything about him was different, that he wasn’t the same person anymore and to a degree, he wasn’t, but deep down he’s still that young dad you met, who was selfless and who loved deeply, he just got a little lost along the way.
You attempt to speak, to breathe life into the air around you but he clears his throat and beats you to the finish line, “I know nothing I can say will rectify the way I treated you..” You don’t know how to respond; you want to agree with him yet you can feel the ‘but’ coming. “But I want you to know I am sorry and I know that those words won’t fix anything.” His hands sweep across his face as he leans forward in the chair, fingers combing at his beard.
“I was angry, so incredibly angry and I directed everything at people who didn’t deserve it…” As he looks at you his eyes begin to well and you feel your chest tighten, you know all of this already, you understood and if he just let you in at the time you could’ve helped him. Now you just listen because you need to hear it from him, that he understands.
“I jus’ wanted Sarah back and every time I looked at you, or Tommy, I was reminded of ‘er, I was a dick.”
“Yeah you were,” You couldn’t help the slight chuckle that laced its way through your words but it seemed to lighten the mood, Joel was still looking at the ground but he let out a puff of air and a very small smile, wiping the few tears staining his face.
“I thought I wanted you both to leave but I only broke my own heart more because I didn’t realise you were the only two people keepin’ me somewhat sane.” It was then that you noticed the scar on his temple, before you could even think about what you were doing you’d sunk to your knees in front of him, your hand reaching up to skim cautiously against the skin there.
To your surprise he didn’t flinch or push you away, instead nestling his head further into your hand and drawing a deep breath in through his nose.
“I thought about you every damn day and then I met Ellie and I don’t know, nothing can ever take away from Sarah but she’s given me a second chance, so every day when we’ve been travellin’ I was hopin’ I’d find you again so that I can make it right because you’re still on my mind darlin’” He was rambling now and you let him because you knew if you didn’t he might never let it out again. You kiss the rough skin of his palm and rub your hand against his knee, willing him to open his eyes and see you.
“You really were a dick Joel, a monumental jackass.” He nods in agreement, “But I already told you, there’s no one else. We were gonna have a baby together, get married, I wanted to be with you until the end and I would have been if you weren’t so adamant that I should leave.” He looks ashamed of himself when you speak. “I understood why you did it but that doesn’t mean that it didn’t hurt me.”
“And I will spend every day of the rest of my life making it up to you I swear but I can’t live in this town and watch you walk around and act like you weren’t one of the best parts of my existence on this godforsaken planet.” This time it’s you that’s welling up as you move to sit between his legs, back to the chair, you look up at him. “You got a lot of grovelling to do, Miller.”
“I count on it, sweetheart,” he smiles down at you, both of you silently crying.
“Tommy showed me some spare land today, remember I promised to build us a house of our own one day?” The soft skin of your rosy lips stretches further across your face as you recount the memory.
“You said you’d plant me roses…” He leans down further to press a gentle kiss to your forehead, before whispering in your ear, “already planted the first one today.”
#pedro pascal#pedro pascal characters#pedro pascal fanfiction#joel miller#joel miller angst#hbo joel miller#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller fic#joel miller x you#joel miller x reader#hbo joel miller x you#tlou#tlou hbo#the last of us#angsty joel miller#dove dewdrop
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Hey tumblr.
It's Luna, or more, someone of us who has no clue who they are right now. We feel like the embodiment of being sick and tired and just so done.
We have been thinking long and hard about what to write in this post or if we even want to make a post like this, but now that we're typing out these words, we don't know why we put it off so long.
We are permanently fucking off from the radqueer discourse. We can't take it anymore and we don't care anymore. We've lost all empathy and sympathy for everyone and everything involved in this shitshow, no matter which side they're on. The reason for this is not that we suddenly are neutral, we are still anti-radqueer, but we are so burned out and just start to dissociate the second we open the tags or see a radqueer post in the wild. We're naturally low empathy to begin with, but now every last ounce of that is completely gone when it comes to this topic, plus we just... don't care anymore. There's the 100th transnazi popping up? I don't care. Another "cisabuser" in the tags? doesn't matter. whatever. We're not a bad person, we are just done. We can't keep on doing this or this will eventually throw us into depression again and that might literally kill us. and I'm not going to let that happen.
when I think about radqueers, I feel so much anger, frustration and sadness - or more, that's what I felt. now all of that is just drowned by a dark cloud of tiredness and nothingness.
so, this is our goodbye. Knowing us, we will probably still roam the tags sometimes and depending who is fronting, some of us might even interact with discourse still, but like, officially, we are gone. (@ mod mew: if you could let us still have access to this account that would be dope af tho!)
I will also use this post to to encourage every anti-radqueer who's fighting tooth and nail to get blogs taken down and people banned, to step back for a minute, take a deep breath and think about if you really want to keep on doing this. we thought this would never take a mental toll on us, yet here we are. I'm not saying what you're doing is wrong, but I'm saying that maybe you could use your energy and will to fight for something else.
let's face it, radqueers will never be an actual threat to society. they are pathetic, sad people, hiding behind their screens, screaming "the future is radqueer!" over and over, but in reality this "movement" will burn to the ground eventually and they will go down with it.
do people get hurt in radqueer spaces? yes, they do and that's horrible (just a note as to how bad it's gotten with us: I write this and logically know that yes, it IS horrible - but I feel absolutely nothing. In all honesty, I currently don't care if people get hurt or not, because I can't care. it's like our brain shut off all emotions regarding this topic to protect ourselves). and I'm not saying you should stop offering them help, but I think you can stop worrying about the radqueers taking over society or whatever. if you feel this taking a toll on your mental health, please put yourself first. protecting your health and your life is always, ALWAYS more important that fighting strangers on the internet.
okay, in case you don't think of us as a total asshole with a heart of stone now and are interested in our plurality- and alterhumanity-focused tumblr life, here's out brand new system blog: @the-exodus-fleet And also our hosts blog: @talks-with-the-void
Take care of yourselves and thanks for every kind word and all the support we've got along the way /gen
PS: if any radqueer reads this and wants to celebrate this as a win or whatever, go ahead. if you need this to feel some joy in your sad, miserable little life, I'm not stopping you.
PPS: I still genuiely hope all radqueers eventually come to their sense and leave this bullshit ideology behind
PPPS: and to all radqueers who hide behind this label to abuse and groom other, I hope you lose all your friends and your family over this. you deserve no happiness.
#mod luna 🌙#this is probably the most politically incorrect post I've ever made#to be 100% open and honest I was THIS close to just add a bunch of threats and insults towards radqueers#I'm not a perfect person but I will not sink THAT low lmao#anyway we are dissociated to hell and back so. goodbye.#antiradqueer#anti radqueer#anti transx#anti transid#anti transabled
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