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facioleeknow · 27 days

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Time for love ° Hwang Hyunjin

Hyunjin. the immortal Adonis, falls for a human.

WC: 2094 Genre: Greek mythology AU, angst, smut

TW: make up artist reader, model hyunjin, smut, masturbation, thigh riding, handjob, mention of cum, borderline asshole hyunjin, greek gods and goddesses, mention of blood, angry hyunjin and angry deities

AN: thank you from th ebottom of my heart to th elovely @leeknowsallyoursecrets , for giving me her opinion about this.

My Kofi if you want to support me <3.

Hyunjin was old. Hyunjin was really really old. Eternal youth they called it. When one thinks about youth, they imagine freshness and fun; a colorful, colorful phase when you get to try new things and explore the world. Hyunjin’s life was anything but; he had seen every corner of this earth and tried every experience that was humanly possible. His life was flat and gray, there was nothing more to do and he was bored.

He remembered his first life. His name was Adonis and he was considered the most beautiful man in the whole world; he was so beautiful that goddesses soon appeared on his doorstep and asked to share his bed. That’s how his story became myth, or what people thought it was.

He had lived many lives from then, he had taken many names and done many things, he lived a tranquil life and minded his business; had sometimes taken a couple of lovers but nothing that had stuck to him.

His life and pattern of change had come crumbling apart when one day the gods decided to come out in the open and introduce themselves to humans. With time everything was uncovered and the protagonists of every myth became their own kind of celebrities. He had never been more famous in his life, but he also had never been more lonely. He was beautiful and that was a fact, and with the fame came the modeling offers. He modeled for the most famous maisons of fashion of the world and people loved him. No they didn’t love him, they loved his body, they loved his face, they loved his fake smile and fake confidence.

His days were always the same, he would wake up at an insane hour, get on set, get ready, shoot, get unready, check social media and then go to bed, just to do it all the following day. Day after day the cycle had never been broken, for years on end. Until it had.

When he walked inside the photo studio, he could sense something had shifted in the air. He hated changes. A heavy hand smoothed back his unruly hair, his eyes closed almost on instinct after he sat down in his makeup chair. He had requested a special chair, made of one of the softest furs he had ever touched, where he could sleep and relax.

Something warm and small suddenly touched his shoulder, hesitantly. He hissed and his eyes shot open, his staff knew better than to interfere with his pattern.

His breath hitched in his throat when he opened his eyes. This wasn’t his usual make-up artist.

“Sorry to disturb you Mr. Hwang, I am Y/N L/N, your new makeup artist,” your voice was sweet, way too sweet to be human, but he knew all deities by heart. Perhaps some kind of creature.

“What happened to Ha-na?” his eyes bore holes into your skull, his gaze held a fiery passion you had never seen in your life. Is this how an immortal looks?, you thought.

“She’s on maternity leave, sir,” you had never felt that nervous in your life.

The conversation died off after that but his eyes were fixed on you. There was something about you that Hyunjin couldn't quite pinpoint, his inside felt like they were lit on fire. His head told him that if he looked away from you, something bad would've happened. He had to have you, one way or another, he didn't even care if you were human or not.

Since that day Hyunjin had always waited anxiously for your arrival every morning. You would always greet him with a tight lipped smile while you closed into fists your obvious shaky hands. He liked to think your hands were shaking and your heart was beating out of your chest because of him.

At night Hyunjin would lie awake and think about you, your hair, your lips, your hands, your eyes, but most of the time he would think about what laid under your clothes, how your curves would look and how they would feel in his big and soft hands.

He had to have you, he didn't care if you were human or not.

The second time Hyunjin spoke to you, it was weeks after your first encounter.

“What are you?” his eyes bored into yours like the first time you met.

“What do you mean sir?”

His presence felt almost overbearing, it looked like he was towering over you, it felt like he was everywhere, you couldn't run from him. But in reality he was still sitting in front of you.

“Don't play coy. What kind of creature are you?”

“Creature? I'm human, sir,” your eyes wide as saucers at his assumption. You? A supernatural creature?

“Are you lying to me?” His tone was stern and demanding.

“No, sir, I would never.”

He didn't reply.

He was scary. Immortals were scary and dangerous for humans more than anyone else. You should've been fearful of him but a familiar throb between your legs kept growing and growing and you couldn't help but feel ashamed.

Hyunjin could feel your arousal, he could read it on your face. After centuries he could read human emotions quite well.

“Everybody out!” His tone left no space for arguments. The staff and photographers scurried out of the room with their hearts in their throats.

“Come sit.” The immortal patted his spread legs, his big hand encased your wrist.

“Excuse me?”

“You don't want to?” he sounded cocky now, a new emotion he let you see.

“I didn't say that,” you stuttered.

“Then be a good girl and straddle my thigh.”

His hands never left your body, not even when you complied and positioned yourself how he asked. He was in control, he was the one guiding your movement.

A small gasp escaped your lips when you felt him ground you on his strong thigh.

“Please sir, touch me,” the shame fueled your pleasure like never before.

“No can do, get yourself off like this or don't at all.”

That was the best orgasm of your life.

After he touched you, Hyunjin couldn't get enough of you. He thought your voice was sweet at first, but your moans were even sweeter, your skin tasted like nectar and your pussy like ambrosia. He was addicted.

Sleep came easier to him now but not even in your dreams he could escape you. Your voice, your sweet whines, your skin, your scent, they all clouded his brain even in his slumber. He'd wake up hard as a rock every night and leaking. He would fuck his fist roughly, just how he liked it, he would use all of his toys and cum again and again until his seed had permanently stained his satin black sheets. But it wasn't enough. It was never enough. He had to feel you clench around him, he had to feel you rake your nails down his back, he had to push your legs to your chest and see fat tears roll down your cheeks.

So he would get up and drive to your house where he would fuck you until you both passed out. It became some sort of routine, one that he followed religiously. But the more he saw the bigger a foreign and strange feeling grew inside him. It started at the pit of his stomach and then spread through his chest like a warm blanket enveloping him in a tight hug. It was comforting and that unsettled him.

He was confused and ignorant, he hated that. But he knew that it didn't come from him, somebody was attacking him. That's how Hyunjin found himself in front of the goddess of love, Aphrodite, herself.

“What have you done to me?” he yelled. He knew yelling at a deity was not a smart move but the anger was consuming him, mixing with that strange feeling and making his blood hot.

“You cursed me, didn't you? You cursed me because I don't want to share a bed with you anymore, you selfish woman.” The moment those words came out of HYunjin’s mouth he regretted them. The room started shaking along with the anger of the goddess, everybody knew not to anger Aphrodite. he was foolish, he thought he could get away with it because he used to be her favorite lover. The goddess grew in stature, the light bulbs in the room exploded, leaving the only light her angry eyes.

“You foolish human, how dare you speak to me like this,” this was not Aphrodite the goddess of love, this was the goddess of fiery passion and victory, “ I did not curse you. You do not hold significance in my eyes anymore, you are a mere human. Humans all fall in love, it’s their destiny.”

The walls of the pristine white room they were in started to crack under the gravity of the goddess full immortal form. Hyunjin knew that the fact he was not dead meant that Aphrodite let him live as a sign of charity and because of the time they shared their bed. But she did not give second chances, she never had so he quickly kneeled and when he felt the presence of the immortal get gradually less overbearing he got up and walked backwards until back hit the door as a sign of respect and then left.

The drive home was pure madness, flashes of rage traveled through his body like lightning before leaving like nothing had happened. Hera was punishing him for angering her daughter, nothing was less expected from the goddess of family. When he stumbled into his house, with shaky hands he grabbed his ceremonial cup and offered his bloods to the gods to appease them and as a thanks for sparing his life.

The following day Hyunjin avoided looking at you in the eyes, he had never looked away from you, not even once. You were so used to having his fiery gaze on you that now your whole body felt cold as ice.

‘Maybe he’s tired,’ you thought while you worked. Tired or not, you felt him miles away from you even if you were touching his skin with your very own hands. Something had shifted between you.

The next day felt like a deja vù, Hyunjin still had his eyes closed and he still refused to talk to you. You felt wronged and cold. The following days followed the same pattern, it felt like a terrible nightmare. His nightly visits had also stopped and so did his texts.

Anger and frustration were eating away at you. Work had started to get tougher and Hyunjin’s attitude was making your mental health drop. The last straw was the pouring rain, you were stranded at work, with no umbrella, when all you wanted to do was go home, eat ice cream and sleep.

Fat teardrops started dropping down your cheeks, why was this all happening to you? Why couldn’t you live in peace? Why was Hwang Hyunjin doing this to you?

“Are you crying?” That voice. Hwang Hyunjin.

“That’s none of your business, Hyunjin,” you furiously wiped at your cheeks.

“It is,” his hand cupped your cheek and you had no strength to fight it, “ it is because you are the only woman i’ve ever loved in my long life.” Your breath hitched in your throat.

“Say that again.”

“You, “ he paused, “ are the only wo-”

You didn’t give him the chance to finish his sentence, your lips attached to his and you richest deflated with relief. Kissing him felt familiar and natural. The recognizable desire that always lit within you when you were with him started spreading through you like wildfire. Your hands quickly traveled to his pants and unbuttoned his pants without thinking, you had done that countless times. His dick was already hard and leaking, waiting for you. Your soft hand wrapped around his velvety skin and tugged and moved just how you knew he liked, how you knew drove him mad. Your lips found his neck and nipped and sucked at his pulse point, his weak spot.

“Oh, baby, I’m not going to last, I think I’m cumming.”

A quick swipe of your thumb against his slip made him spill all over your hand, his head thrown back in ecstasy and his eyes tightly shut.

“You’re gonna be the death of me, lover, but first let me return the favor.”

A hand on his chest stopped him.

“Take me on a date first.”

“Whatever you want, lover.”

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idlerin · 3 months

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nonsense — epilogue: 43. utterly nonsensical

masterlist — previous | fin.

✦ fun facts !

oikawa does make sure that he proposes when [name] leasts expects it (and in clothes she would approve of)

its been two years since the final chapter, by this time, [name] already has a stable job as a screenwriter while oikawa’s acting career is still booming.

[name]’s friends know oikawa has been wanting to propose for months.

nonsense ! an oikawa tooru social media au

synopsis. you were oikawa tooru’s #1 fan, until you became his #1 hater. you hated him so much you went viral on twitter (accidentally) and literally became known as “the oikawa tooru hater”, doesn’t help that he keeps fueling the fire by subtweeting you. everyone is all in for this new drama. what isn’t known to the public, is that this particular drama’s been on hold for three years (him being your ex and all).

a/n — 3/3! i don’t even know where to begin, nonsense has been an integral part of my life for around 2-3 years, even before i began posting the story on tumblr, before it was even called ‘nonsense’. it’s been on the back of my mind for ages, and when i started this story i didn’t even think it would take me this long to finish it. there has been a lot of times where i lost motivation in writing, and i never forced myself to create because then i just know the content i would put out wouldn’t be the same. so i wrote when i felt like it, when i wanted to, because i think you should never force yourself to continue something if you don’t feel like doing it anymore.

i’m also the type of person that would persist when i love something, and i really really love nonsense. i love this little world that i created and i hope other people loved it too. it’s funny how nonsense began as a silly little thought just because i ran out of smaus to read, and i really did not know how to even make one! i just relied mostly on my gut and thought to myself what i would like to read :). nonsense is very dear to me because it’s the first smau i ever made, i started this last year and i think the story grew with me!

i would just like to thank everyone who read, liked, commented, reblogged, interacted, and spared time for nonsense. i can never say enough how every single one of you mean the world to me, you guys were part of the reason i kept coming back and finishing what i left of. motivation is really the key problem i have, and i can say what motivates me is my love for the story, haikyuu, and you guys ❤️

i love all of you so so so much, thank you for being part of this story and hopefully reading nonsense had made you smile or even made your day.

now, onto my next work! (that i will most likely procrastinate on too, bare with me my darlings)

taglist is closed ! + (1/2) @kawaii-angelanne @ceneridiankaa @kittycasie @rukia-uchiha-98 @polish-cereal @kellesvt @rockleeisbaeeee @kashxyou @imsoluvly @jjulliette @tooruchiiscribs @littlefreakjulia @gomjohs @qualitygiantshoepsychic @mellowknightcolorfarm @konzumeken @migosple @kuroogguk @sangwooooo @katsu-shi @wolffmaiden @rijhi @2baddies-1porsche @yeehawcity @aishkaaa @crueldinasty @renardiererin @yyuiz @llamakenma @penguinlovestowrite @princelingperfect @hearts4faey @yoonabeo @pantherhappy @julia-1901 @godsbiggestmenace @angel-luv-04 @noideawhothatis @bethbat @natsvmie @luna-mothii @lylovw @apinu @leave-rae-alone @kamikokii @bananasquash @eitaababe @minimari415 @hanabihwa @nilopillo

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where-is-vivian · 7 days

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the fine man that he is

inspired by a picture of wonho (of course)

@/wherearethevampires (instagram)

#james potter fanart #james potter #regulus black #sirius black #jegulus #marauders #marauders fanart #fanart #marauders art #hockey au #model au

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sansas-amythest-hairnet · 5 months

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Modeling AU

Shireen, Arya, and Daenerys in a throwback photo shoot for the magazine ‘Highgarden’

#asoiaf #game of thrones #a song of ice and fire #asoif/got #asoif fanart #house of the dragon #asoiaf fanart #house targaryen #house stark #arya stark #shireen baratheon #daenerys targeryan #modern au #model au #fashion

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fluffyf0x · 1 year

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model!sakusa x photographer!reader imagine!

Sakusa was absolutely enamored by you the moment he saw that you were the photographer assigned to take the pictures for this photoshoot. Like- it should be you who's modelling what?

Sakusa couldn't think of a good pose during the first few shoots and outfits. Completely distracted about the fact he subconsciously wanted to look the best he could for these shoots. As you were the one who was going to take them. It didn't help that you were trying to instruct him here and there on a good pose. As you knew best as to what the company wanted to show for this magazine. He reviewed what the vibe and style the company needed but he seriously blanked out the moment he saw you.

Sakusa would probably refuse to believe that you have completely taken his heart. He denies all of it. He wouldn't meet you again after all. It was just a simple photoshoot. He has better things to handle like his career. So he tried to put you out of his life.

Keyword, tried.

He ended up thinking about you at night and at day. After a few months of torture, you two met again. Sakusa gathered all his courage to simply ask you out for a simple coffee date. You laugh as he found excuses to all of your playful flirts. Teasing him about the fact he asked you out.

"my, my, how lucky am I for the one and only Sakusa Kyoomi to ask me out for a simple coffee date"

"you're just an amazing photographer that's all, I hoped to work with you again"

"You sure you just didn't miss me?"

"shut up" Sakusa snapped at you. You chuckled.

He liked you.

AAHHHH Sorta late happy birthday for Sakusa lol. I initially wrote this for the small friendship I developed with @kysoomi !! But it took a while and I was able to post it for Sakusa's birthday as well.

#fluff #haikyuu #sakusa kiyoomi #msby sakusa #sakusa x reader #sakusa kyoomi x reader #haikyuu x reader #model au #sakusa fluff #sakusa x y/n #sakusa x you #sakusa x gn!reader #renfox

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emo-batboy · 1 year

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Fan pages on Twitter with Bruce are making me think of one thing. Kpop Twitter. Do u think they would be making fancams of him too? Photocards? Posters? Buying 10 copies of vogue just for different cover with him?

*takes off glasses* now I cannot reveal the secrets of my Twitter au BUT you came to the right person :DD

NOW CONSIDER

BRUCE WAYNE AS A FORMER MODEL (idk if this has been done before with Battinson? Let me know so I can read it)

So maybe Bruce did some covers for a business magazine in his late teens or early 20’s and it went really well!!

a few luxury brands asked if this fresh-faced Bruce Wayne would consider being an ambassador. Maybe a brand of watches, suits, sunglasses, something business-like or old money

He agrees to work with some suit company cuz his dad loves the brand and he likes them too now

This earns him his first ever taste of A-List Celeb Status. He is on the cover of magazines, not just business and fashion: Gossip magazines. Tabloids. People recognize him and want his autograph. Paparazzi follow him to lunch dates with friends.

They want to know his favorite color, cereal brand, ice cream flavor, and not because they want to be billionaires like him (poor little nepo baby) but because they love him so much they want to know every little detail of his life.

He is given the title of heartthrob over and over again (and I mean look at him, ofc he is)

He despises it with every cell in his body.

BUT he keeps working for this one luxury tailor brand until his contract ends. Maybe two or three years?

He has a good relationship with them, still. Wears their suits mostly, recommends it to friends if they need a new one. But he’s decided it’s not for him anymore.

Now. Every year, during New York Fashion Week, Bruce is invited to walk in their show. (This brand gives all of their ambassadors the opportunity.) Sometimes, he says yes. Sometimes, he doesn’t.

He refuses for a few years (during his vengeance era) until Bruce Wayne changes and decides to make more appearances. NY Fashion Week comes around, and Bruce returns for one (1) show.

Oh lordie the stans

They arrive in droves

EVERYBODY AND THEIR MOTHER SEES THE CLIP OF BRUCE WAYNE WALKING AT THE FASHION SHOW!!

He tears up that fucking runway! He’s a seasoned veteran of course he does

THE BRAND BEGS BRUCE TO COME BACK

And ya know what?

He says yes

Cuz he wants to be personable, likable, approachable, a role model (no pun intended)

His bitterness is slowly dissipating, and he’s grown stronger after the stress of his early 20’s and the hatred of his late 20’s. He’s an Adult TM who can handle it.

This is when he learns about the new emergence of stan culture :)

The edits are EVERYWHERE

Some are from his new collections and looks

Others are made up of early 2010’s Bruce Wayne

Imagine like those sparkly ones with cute music in the background and it’s just Bruce smiling

(And then there’s the thirst trap ones, you know those one)

Pretty boy billionaire Bruce Wayne and his army of fans could declare a nation. They’re your cousin, your friend, your teacher, your goddamn accountant.

Old posters from Tiger Beat 2009 go up on eBay for thousands of dollars

And those old “vintage” fashion magazines where he’s on the cover, those could cost you rent

Bruce walks some new shows and agrees to pose for some magazines (fashion AND business, among others)

Vogue offers him the cover, which he accepts

They run out of stock.

(How is that even possible?)

Fancams of him walking down the street and attending press conferences crop up? That’s what surprises him the most.

He is still very camera shy but the more he gets to know the regular fansites, he feels more comfortable waving and talking to them. (And hopefully they don’t suspect a thing. PLEASE don’t suspect a thing.)

There are a lot of events where they’re not allowed in but if it’s a public event, they will be there

(There are some creepy ones tho, and Alfred handles them accordingly) (with a call to the police) (and occasionally a hose)

It’s fun tho, allows Brucie Wayne, Billionaire Nepo Baby Extraordinaire, to become separate from his nightly persona

This is how Bruce becomes very familiar with Stan Twitter

But he still refuses to make an account for his own sanity

It’s for the best

#bruce wayne #battinson #batman #the batman 2022 #the batman #batman 2022 #model au #battinson is a model #WHAT IF ya know????#I really wish I could put like 50 photos in this post but I can’t

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kittycole · 7 months

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Spinner his reward ✨👀

( I need help. I keep drawing him wearing that dress. I have no idea where this was headed. (I think Shigaraki rewards Spinner for being his good bodyguard. )

Please Reblog to let everyone see. Thank you very much.

Commissions info and check out my other websites

#my art #mha #bnha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #shigaraki tomura #spinner #shuichi iguchi #tenko shimura #model au #spinneraki #spinaraki #bratcole1us #kittycole

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partyanimal167 · 7 months

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How Fitting Pt 2- Crocodile x F!Reader

I've been waiting for requests for my International Spy Event, and I got a few requests for a part two, so I figured why not. I surprised myself with how much I knew about sewing (even though it was the family trade), so I think I can continue to lean into that world more. The first part was going to be more about modeling, and that didn't happen so I think it might here.

Thanks for reading! Part One

You were so well-suited into being a behind-the-scenes person, so all of this was out of your comfort zone. However, you would do anything for your beloved boss, so there was no reason to say no. Just save the day, and no one would know. Right?

The opportunity came that your boss and mentor would be featured in a magazine praising his work and legacy of the shop. You were ecstatic for him and knew that it was well-deserved. He kindly downplayed it all but asked you to come for the photoshoots and assist with the models. He would be bringing out some archived looks as well as those that blended the vintage styles with modern trends. (That is why he's a pro at all of this)

The day of the shoot started with you loading boxes and bags of clothes into a car and going over a detailed checklist. Your boss sat behind the counter drinking coffee and enjoying the Sun. You could only hope to be so relaxed in your future.

Soon, the two of you were in the studio setting up the clothes while photographers ran around checking for equipment and models. There seemed to be multiple designers in the building at once. You assumed that the organizer wanted to get everything done as soon as possible, so there wouldn't be a hold-up when editing.

You pressed ascots, ties, lined up vests and jackets, and paired cotton socks with shoes. Models came and dressed and you boss helped direct them to the sets.

For now your work was done, so you decided to peak to another set that was showing off women's formal gowns. It wasn't your sector, but the familiarity of dresses and heels brought back memories of your family elders. You checked the schedule and noted that there would be a collab shoot between this designer and your boss. You thought that the styles complimented each other.

You continued to stand in the corner watching when a few people frantically ran passed you before talking to a woman sitting in a director's chair. She was gorgeous with tanned skin, black hair, and bright blue eyes. She listened intently but didn't seem too affected by the urgency. For a moment, the two of you locked eyes and she smiled brightly.

You turned away to zone out but that didn't last when your heard heels and saw the woman in front. "Excuse me, are you one of the models for the other designers?"

You gawked for a moment and mentally ran through your outfit: slacks, loafers, messy hair, measuring tape around the shoulders. You shook your head. "Eh not at all. I'm one of the men's fashion assistants." you explained.

"Ah well, I'm sorry to bother you. I'm Robin. I'm doing one of the shoots for the women's line as you can see, and I'm in need of a model that would fit your dimensions." you starred blankly at her. "Do you think you could step in?"

"Me? Model?"

She laughed at your reaction before glancing at her notes. "Ah yes, the photos would be for our collab with Mr. Lewis." Shit, that was your boss. "I would really appreciate it." she beamed kindly at you.

You fidgeted with your fingers a little and nibbled a cheek. "Eh, I wouldn't say I'm model material-,"

"Nonsense. You'd be beautiful on the camera."

The deep timbre made you aware of the others in the room--however too late to notice one specifically. Your face warmed up at the compliment, and you turned slowly at the newcomer.

"You're already stunning in the flesh."

Oh earth come get me now! Your eyes found his, and Sir Crocodile looked down at you with those intimidating gold orbs that were highlighted with mischief.

You hadn't seen the man in awhile, but it was if your body knew the protocol, and your hand reached out gently for him to take--greeting you with a kiss as always.

"You haven't called me."

The air in your lungs rushed out. "I've uh- my apologies." you replied quickly trying to replenish your breath.

Even though the man brought it up, he didn't seem troubled by the fact.

"Well if you're willing to help Robin, I'm sure the matter can be forgiven." you pouted before you could stop yourself. He chuckled.

"Ah you two know each other?" Robin perked.

"I'm a tailor." you simply provided at that.

"A talented one at that. I'm sure she helped produced the clothing that's being featured." Crocodile didn't allow you to downplay yourself at all. "However, it would do her well to step into the light. No need to keep hiding a treasure." he went on but focused on your eyes.

You couldn't find an excuse if you wanted to. The two in front of you seemed like a business power duo and quick to resolve things too. You pinched the bridge of your nose before you sighed. "Okay fine. Some pictures won't hurt."

...

Crocodile waited anxiously for you to step back into the shooting space from the dressing rooms.

He attended to many businesses and trades, but certain things in life he wanted to keep simple. He enjoyed a good outfiIt that fit well and stuck to the same shop that always got it right. He appreciated your attention to detail and care for your craft.

Admittedly, he was also excited to see you in something other than a dress shirt and slacks. He was appreciative all the same, but seeing you in a formal dress would fuel the dreams of taking you out to nice places and enjoying special evenings.

He heard the heels before he saw you, and your entrance into the room seemed to make everyone pause.

It was a dark green dress with a halter neckline, a tasteful slit on the side, and was backless to help fit where your body curved and dipped. It sparkled and was pleasing to the eye.

Crocodile could feel your nervousness, but your stride never faltered. You had done this before, he figured. Everyone turned away from you, and he could see you physically exhale. He watched as you were quickly shuffled into place for some solo shots while assistants gleamed over the hair and makeup of the models already present. Your boss stood by him, and the two men enjoyed the vision of two different brands coming together.

A gentleman stood by you in a black-n-beige suit that definitely made the scene feel like a gala of a Bond movie. Crocodile kept his eyes intently on you. It was like you got into character and followed the instructions on how to express and emote for what was needed. It was captivating.

More photos were taken, and just when you thought things would be wrapping up, Robin clapped her hands and said, "Now, let's have Crocodile join us." You both quickly turned to the woman.

"This isn't an inclusivity issue." Crocodile argued referring to his prosthetic.

Robin only hummed. "It wouldn't be inclusive if we only showed differences on special occasions." she was ready for his retort.

Crocodile grumbled. "I need a suit."

"Actually, that suit is one of mine; I'm sure of it. The color scheme goes well with what's already here." your boss quipped in.

The man reached into his coat and sighed. "Fine, but I'm enjoying myself while I do this." he brought out a cigar.

"I wouldn't want it any other way." Robin went on.

You fidgeted slightly as the man puffed his smoke before joining you. You met his eyes and smiled. Assistants moved props and posed your hands and positioned bodies. Unknowingly, you drifted away from your companion.

Crocodile chuckled as he wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you closer. He turned away from the camera and whispered into your ear. "Don't run away. You're the star of the show." the gruffness made you gasp. Neither of you even noticed the cameras flashing.

You got a hold of yourself and leaned into the man's touch. "I'm staying." was all you could get out before placing your hand back on his chest.

Robin only wanted a few shots, and with that, the day was finally over. The set-up lamps began to shut off, and you sighed to yourself. It was a fun experience, and you weren't uncomfortable. You were just ready to not have so many eyes on you.

"It was a pleasure seeing you." Crocodile offered while others shuffled around you two.

You nodded and smiled. "Likewise. I'm sure we'll see each other sooner next time."

"How about dinner now?"

You blinked for a moment. "Oh sure, let me just change, and then we-,"

"Why wait? Let's go like this."

You gaped a little. "Huh?"

Crocodile grinned. "Well my dear, the last time I let you go; you hid. You said you wouldn't be running away this time."

You swayed a little. "Ah well, I'm sure I have to return the dress."

"Consider it paid for. It'll be a great addition to your wardrobe." There was never a problem he couldn't solve. "Don't be so nervous around me, love." He brought your hand back to his lips. You expected a kiss but felt a rush through you when the skin was lightly nibbled on, and he winked. "I only bite if you want me to."

~~~

I like this~ I hope Crocodile doesn't seem pushy. I figured he'd be more direct with his intentions since he didn't see you after some subtlety.

Requests are open! And I also have an event going on, so feel free to check that out.

Thanks for reading!

@ririsugotlost

#one piece #one piece x reader #crocodile x reader #sir crocodile #tailor au #model au #prompts #requests #one piece fanfiction #mine #partyanimal167 #seamstress au #modern au

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the-disastrous-life-of-miki · 1 month

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[wip] JJK acting agency au fanfic

read me ⤷ () is like y/n or where my oc will be !! ⤷ and please excuse my grammar i havent really proofread it yet ⤷ mainly nanami x reader/oc - but also some geto x reader, gojo x reader, satosugu, toji x reader n more!! ⤷ edit: made a cute little banner!!!!

At Star Crossed Acting Agency (Or SCAA) there are only 300 cubicles. Not including offices, meeting rooms or board rooms. But actual cubicles. So of course () scratched her head pacing around the 15th floor wondering where her cubicle would be. She was assigned Cubicle 707.

There were countless employees at the agency and there were even more clients too, but more then 700 cubicles? Even SCAA couldn’t manage that, even as one of the biggest acting agencies in the world. …No, THE biggest. You’re guaranteed stardom if you just were signed to SCAA, there were countless famous actors and there was even a sister company called Star Crossed Modelling Agency (Or SCMA). It was like a huge safety net for the rich and famous. Diligent PR, connections with many big directors, brands and studios.

Maybe not a safety net for its employees. Because if there was one thing () couldn’t say is that she wasn't stressed. Her old manager was notorious for being picky, arrogant and a tyrant. Work was hell on earth but it paid well.

It's no wonder the offices were all well decorated with the same moody blue paint used throughout as accents. Curtains framing the floor to ceiling windows, overhanging lamps, arched door frames, beautiful natural light. An office worker’s dream to be working brutally at least somewhere somewhat aesthetically pleasing.

But that wasn’t the only perk in this hell hole.

The actors.

Every once in a while one of your favorite (And somewhat narcissistic) celebrity crushes could be just roaming the halls, talking to employees, and their managers. It’s not rare for somewhere like SCAA.

hey guys!! so heres the first bit of my jjk acting agency au fanfic. this is a nanami x reader/oc focused story, but really it also includes toji, geto, and gojo and appearances of more of the jjk cast!!

not sure if want this to be x reader or oc..

and still thinking abt the title!! might be cubicle 707 but still not sure..

luv miki!

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

#jjk #nanami x reader/oc #nanami x reader #jjk toji #toji fushiguro #geto suguru #jjk geto #jjk gojo #gojo satoru #jjk kento #nanami kento #fanfic #x oc #x reader #acting agency #au #model au #work in progress

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bangtanficsforyou · 1 year

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Girl of His Dreams (01)

Pairing: Fuckboi! Jungkook x Reader

Au: Strangers to Lovers au

Genre: Angst, fluff, smut (eventually)

Rating: 18+

Word count: 5K (approx)

Summary: You think Jungkook is the utter definition of beauty. Jungkook thinks you’re cute but just not his type. Throw a magic ring into the equation, that makes you look like the girl of his dreams and you have the perfect recipe for heartbreak and tears.

Main Masterlist | Prologue

If you enjoy my writing, consider supporting me on my patreon!

You're sure that the majority of people hate Mondays. Dread it even. You, on the other hand, used to look forward to Mondays because Mondays meant art classes. However, for the first time, you find yourself being a part of the Monday hater club. You just wish you could skip this day and remove its existence entirely. Or at least for this semester.

In the less than three days that you got to spend with your family, you had your fair share of relaxing moments. But after coming back to your dorms, it's like a part of you has realised that these distraction techniques are only temporary. Because there's no way for you to run away from the impact Jungkook's words have had on you.

Thankfully, yesterday you were tired from the journey and your mind did not have the energy to overthink. Which, you also think, is the reason why you could fall asleep so easily.

But now it's Monday which means art classes, which means you will see Jungkook again. There's no avoiding it. Worst of all, it's the first class of your day and you don't even have the time to prepare yourself.

As you make your way through the hallways and towards your designated room, your mind rushes to come up with all the ways in which you should be prepared to face Jungkook. It's like this one thing that you need to get right in order to save whatever amount of dignity you are left with.

Your imagination, however, is put to a halt when you find yourself in front of your class.

Gosh, this is going to be stressful.

You take a deep breath and tightly shut your eyes, before swinging the door of your classroom open. When you open them again, your eyes land on Jungkook's back, automatically.

Shit, he's already here and is sitting on your seat.

The sight of him, causes you to take a step back and you start second-guessing if you're ready to face him. It's not so much about his words anymore but rather how your body is reacting to seeing him. You were not feeling this way even a few moments ago and could have never predicted having to battle your thoughts like this.

You also don't have it in you to sit back and process the emotions you're feeling when your mind and body are screaming at you to run in the opposite direction. Somewhere away from Jungkook.

"Hey," someone taps on your shoulder, aggressively. "Do you plan to stand here for the rest of the day?"

You wince and face the person, only to roll your eyes when you realise who it is. "Can you for once, not be so aggressive?"

Brie rolls her eyes right back at you. "If I hadn't tapped you so hard, you might still be in your depressing dream world."

Shit. Are you making it obvious? In case you're, you can't have that. One of the many things that you had planned on, was to not show how affected and in turmoil you are. Because getting butthurt by people's words is not cool. It's childish and immature. Unfortunately, even though you want to, you can't do anything about the fact that the words had an impact on you, but you can work on not showing it and making it obvious.

Even if you're weak, you do not want to appear weak.

Not bothering to reply to Brie, you start walking towards your seat. You can't avoid facing him, what's the point of delaying it? You think you hear a "rude" coming from Brie but you don't pay much attention to it.

"Good morning, art girl," Jungkook says in greeting. When you respond to him with a simple nod and wordlessly ask him to scoot, he takes the hint that you're not interested in making conversations with him.

Understandable, he thinks. His words weren't exactly nice. But they had to be spoken. He had to make it clear that he isn't interested in you in some way or the other, sooner or later.

One might ask, why then, is he sitting next to you when he could have chosen any other seat? Well, your seat is right in front of the podium, so when he has to get up there to pose, he will have to walk the least. Plus, he didn't think it was important to change seats, anyway. He knows you won't mistake his actions again. Heck, you are not even talking to him, so why should he give up his ideal seat? A few moments of awkwardness is nothing he can't handle.

So, the two of you sit in silence with you occasionally operating on your phone, to find some distraction. For you, the atmosphere could not be any more suffocating.

Thankfully, around ten minutes later, your professor arrives, which gives you a bit of hope that you'll finally be out of your misery.

It takes a few moments of Miss Richardson chit-chatting with the class for the class to really begin. When Jungkook leaves your side you heave a deep sigh of relief as it feels like you can breathe again.

You arrange your materials and get ready to continue with the sketch. When you look up again, Jungkook is already shirtless and posing the same way he did in the last class.

You take a deep breath and take a look at your incomplete sketch. Hmmm. Where should you start with? As soon as the thought comes to mind, the eyes catch your attention. Something is missing. They need more details and some highlighting.

You involuntarily nod to yourself and make your decision. Eyes it is!

Quickly looking up, you take notice of Jungkook's eyes and then back to your sketch. Making a few quick observations, your pencil comes in contact with the paper to add some strokes at the corners of the eyes. After feeling satisfied, you look up again, to see what else you could add.

After a few moments of staring, you notice that there's a certain level of innocence in Jungkook's eyes. You look back to your sketch and notice that despite the strokes that you added, the eyes lack the ability to convey emotions and fail to stand out.

Your hands quickly get to work and you work on the irises. Your eyes do a quick back and forth between Jungkook and the sketch.

When you look up for the umpteenth time, you happen to find his eyes closed for a very brief moment as he blinks. When he opens his eyes, it's almost as if your brain starts to look at him from a completely different angle. Like one of those illusions, where you blink and only then does your brain catch up and sees the object for what it is.

It's almost as if you're seeing his eyes for the first time. And for the first time do you see the amount of beauty they hold. His eyes are so captivating and mysterious. It's like there's a library of books inside them, and you find yourself wondering what each of those books contain. You do not mind the idea of spending an eternity reading each and every book with great care so that you don't miss a single detail.

The feeling of a certain warmth blooming in your chest, grabs your attention and your face falls when you realise what exactly you were thinking.

Not again, you think. You can't do that again. You simply cannot afford to go down that road.

The feeling fuels a certain kind of anger in your veins and you find yourself feeling determined to finish the drawing as quickly as you possibly can. Because completing the sketch means not having to see Jungkook anymore.

Once you have caught your breath and are ready to start again, you pick up your pencil and get back to work. Unfortunately, it does not take too long for the thoughts to slip again. It's like his eyes have captivated you and you don't know how to get out.

As your anger turns into frustration, you admit defeat and think that it's a wise decision to work on the other body parts. You can get to the eyes again when your brain isn't behaving like it's on some sort of drug.

Focusing on the arms now, you restart. But much to your utter dismay, the same pattern follows. It only takes a few moments for you to notice how huge and sculpted his arms look. Your frustration grows as you keep trying to focus on other body areas but your thoughts keep going back to admiring his beauty and soon you find yourself running out of areas to work on.

Your agitation causes you to put an intense amount of pressure on the nib of your pencil until it breaks. The sight of the broken nib causes you to sigh and you feel pain at the thought of not being able to focus on the one thing you do right. When you feel tears pool in your eyes, you get up from your seat.

"Ma'am, I'm not feeling well, can I please be excused for a few moments?" You ask in a meek voice.

Miss Richardson, is one of those professors who's strict but at the same time gentle and observant. It might appear as if all she's been doing is sitting and updating grades on her laptop but in reality, she has also been keeping a close eye on the students and their activities.

By your constant fidgeting and squirming, it was obvious to her that no matter how hard you were trying to focus, for whatever reason, your mind was stuck somewhere else.

So when you come up to her asking if you could be excused, she is more than willing.

As soon as you're out, you beeline to the washroom. Locking the doors, you repetitively splash your face with cold water. If it was a movie, it would be one of those scenes where the female protagonist splashes water to get some sense back into her and then looks into the mirror with eyes heavy with emotion.

But this isn't a movie.

Although you look into the mirror with your hands gripping the edges of the sink tightly and your eyes are heavy with emotion, this is not a movie. Because you aren't pretty enough to be the main protagonist.

With that thought, it all comes crashing down. Every emotion that you couldn't make sense of suddenly starts making sense.

You aren't naive or foolish enough to think that Jungkook is the only good-looking man out there. There are people who are just as good-looking or maybe even more. The world is not limited to him.

But how does that make any difference?

Like every other person, you have had dreams of your prince charming, of your soulmate and what your 'forever' person would look like. In all of those, he was someone breathtaking, someone gorgeous and someone who's the utter definition of beauty. They loved you unconditionally and were just as much in awe with you, as you were with them.

Never did you consider the possibility that they might find you unattractive.

You are also, aware that just because Jungkook implied that he finds you unattractive or not conventionally good-looking, does not mean every other guy will hold the same opinion of you. But then, your history with men or lack thereof, simply proves that no one has ever found you good-looking either.

Why would they? You've got eyes and you can point out a hundred things wrong with your face in the blink of an eye. Everyone dreams of their loved one to radiate beauty and charm. And you're neither beautiful nor charming. Why would anyone choose you?

With your eyes locked with your reflection, you realise that you don't just feel unattractive. You feel unlovable.

When you were sketching Jungkook and observing those little details, you weren't only observing his physical features but also how easily lovable he is. How easy it is to love him and how he won't ever have to struggle to find love.

His beauty was only making you feel small and inferior.

A drop of tear falling on your wrist makes you realise that you have been silently crying all this while. The realisation only makes you think how pathetic you are to be crying in the bathroom about how you look. You're ugly but also so uncool.

The worst part is that there's nothing that you can do about it. You'll have to live with this face for the rest of your life. And maybe, you'll struggle the entirety of your life to find love. That is if you even do.

A warm sensation on your finger catches your attention once more but this time when you look down, it isn't a teardrop but rather the ring. The same ring that your mother gifted you a few days ago.

You had worn it to class thinking that it looks pretty and matches quite well with your outfit.

But now that the area in contact with the ring starts getting warmer and warmer, your confusion keeps increasing along with it.

Although the warmth isn't uncomfortable, you remove the ring from your finger. The moment the tips of your fingers come in contact with the metal, you realise that the ring in itself is warm and is well above room temperature.

Your immediate instinct is to touch the other ring you are wearing but to your complete surprise, you find that the ring is cold. This observation only causes you to frown harder.

You turn the faucet on and place the ring under it. Once you deem that it's been enough time for the ring's temperature to drop, you turn the water off. You dry the ring by wiping the remaining water off with some tissue paper.

To your utter disbelief, the ring remains just as warm.

But how the fuck is that even possible?

This is a clear slap on the face to the laws of thermodynamics, that you spent so much time learning!

Could….could it actually be some sort of a magical ring?

You remember thinking about the ring last night and how you didn't even entertain the thought of this ring being magical even for a second. Those sorts of things only exist in fantasy worlds. You'd be incredibly stupid to ever consider the possibility of it being one. You had peacefully settled on the conclusion that your mom only played a prank on you.

But right now, you are doubting everything.

It's not just how stubbornly it remains warm but also how it got warm out of nowhere. You cannot explain any of these things using logic.

"Hmm but not just any ordinary ring. The one who puts this on you will start seeing you as their dream partner."

Your mother's words ring in your head.

Ordinary ring? You cannot yet say that it's not an ordinary ring. But unlike before, you find yourself unable to rule out that possibility. This only makes you want to know for sure, what the deal with the ring is.

But how do you put the ring to test? One possible way is to wait for the ring to get heated up again or do something that isn't natural. But who knows when that will be?

The other option available to you is, to check whether the ring does what your mom claims, it's supposed to do.

With your decision being made, you wear the ring back, wipe your tears and clean your face a little bit before heading out to find someone who can help you with your little experiment.

You'll deal with your emotions later (hopefully in the dorms), first you have got a ring that you need to figure out, about.

You have been thinking a lot.

You have been going through classes, blankly staring at the board while your mind remains somewhere else. On the ring, to be very specific. It hasn't been off your mind for a single moment.

Until now of course, as you find yourself in front of Jungkook's class once again. Why? Because you missed your art class and now you need to take a picture of his so that you can complete your sketch.

Although this isn't ideal, you think it's still better than having to be battling your thoughts in the middle of a classroom.

You have to wait for a few minutes until the bell rings. As students start coming out, your heartbeat increases and your hands start getting clammy. However, you aren't as nervous as you were before, because now your focus isn't solely on Jungkook. Somewhere at the back of your mind is the ring.

When you spot Jungkook, he's surrounded by a few of his friends. You clear your throat and put up a facade of confidence, before walking up to him. When he notices you, a confused frown appears on his face.

"Can I talk to you for a moment?" You ask, with eyes as blank as they can be.

Jungkook nods and tells his friends that he will join them in a minute before turning back to you. "Wassup?"

"I could not attend today's class, I had to leave midway because I wasn't feeling well. But I need to complete the sketch so I will have to take a picture of yours." You say in a single breath, letting it all out. The longer you remain under Jungkook's gaze the more you find yourself willing to hide. For a moment, you forgot how powerful his gaze can be and how small it can make you feel. It would be fair to say that now the ring is pretty much out of your mind and all you're focused on is getting out of here as quickly as possible.

"Have you talked about it to your professor?" He shoots another question. He does not mean to sound judgemental but you look like someone who's highly cautious about their grades and who would do anything to maintain them. Who knows, maybe you are here asking him without actually referring it to your professor.

"Of course, I have," involuntarily, a scoff escapes your lips. For the first time, you feel a bit of anger towards the boy. How dare he think that you would be here asking him about it without consulting with your professor first? That would be highly immoral as that would be cheating and unfair to the other students. It's also about his tone of query, it did not sound like a genuine question. Rather one, where he seemed to have formed his own opinion beforehand.

Jungkook raises an eyebrow at your offended stance and finds amusement in it. "Cool then, you can take a picture but what do I get in return?"

Your anger is replaced by surprise and mild panic. You don't have anything you could give to him in return. "What do you mean by that?"

"I'll tell you what, art girl, I'm currently in the mood for some tacos," Jungkook answers, giving you a hint of what exactly it is that he wants.

Realisation clicks and then your face falls. Shit, you'll have to spend more time with him in the name of bribing him. Your stomach churns at the thought and a new wave of anxiety rolls over you. How long are you going to manage to be in his presence without experiencing the same mental breakdown you did a few hours ago?

Unfortunately, if you have to complete your assignment, you will have to spend some more time with Jungkoo–

Jungkook!

The name loudly echoes in your mind.

Jeon Jungkook. He's the ideal man to put the ring on your finger.

Why?

Because he, never in his wildest dreams will consider you to be his dream woman. If after putting the ring on you, it somehow affects the way he views you, that will be no less than a miracle and proof that the ring indeed is magical.

Suddenly, you find yourself looking forward to treating him. A change in your body language which Jungkook notices.

"You know that's not me asking you on a date, right?" He asks with a clearly worried frown that you might mistake his words again.

Your heart shrinks at his comment. How lowly must he think of you? But you try to put that aside and give him a small smile. "Don't worry. I know."

It wasn't that difficult for both of you to find an empty classroom to click the picture in. You were once again overthinking and stressing about being alone with Jungkook but somehow the nonchalant way in which he removed his shirt, without a second thought, gave you enough courage to behave like a normal person. You're the only one who's stressing and making it out to be a big deal when everyone else is just doing fine.

You clicked your photo and now you're fulfilling your end of the deal aka bribing him aka paying for his tacos. While you're at it, it's only fair that you got a burger for yourself. You can't just sit there and watch him eat, things are already awkward enough for you.

As you and Jungkook chew on your food, he keeps swiping on his phone and you keep wondering what is the ideal way in which you can make him put the ring on you.

You can't just ask him to do it directly. You have already made a fool out of yourself before, you can't do that again.

But what other options do you have?

Jungkook feels your intense stare on the side of his face and sighs. Guess, he will have to make some conversation. It's rude to make you pay for the food and not even put some effort into making a conversation with you.

He locks his phone and puts it in his pocket. "So what exactly happened when you weren't feeling well? Like a headache? A stomach ache?"

His words snap you out of your train of thought and it takes a few moments to register his words. When they do, you can't help but notice the irony. The very person who caused your mental breakdown is asking about it, with zero clues about the impact his words and actions have had on you. But then he's not to be blamed, your mind reminds you. He only spoke the truth. Sooner or later, someone might have told you the very same thing and caused the bubble of your daydreams to pop.

"Nothing serious was just feeling heavily nauseous," you say with a shrug, wanting to keep your answer short so that you don't have to recall the events.

A small crease forms on his forehead. If you were feeling nauseous, what on earth are you doing eating a burger now? It's only been what, three hours since art class? You should not be eating junk food three hours from when you were feeling nauseous, it will make things worse. He knows it from his own experience and the memory of it causes him to wince.

Noticing that there's a look of displeasure on his face, you quickly attempt to divert the question elsewhere, in fear of what he might have to say.

"Where did you get that shirt from?" You blurt out but then smack yourself mentally at the absurdity of the question. Who the fuck asks where they got a plain white shirt from? They are available everywhere!

"This?" He asks as if making sure you're talking about the shirt he's wearing. When you nod, confirming he shrugs. "I might be wrong but I think it's from Target."

You look elsewhere in embarrassment when you reply out a hum. But it's when you're looking around that you notice a woman wiping her hands on a tissue paper. The sight causes an idea to pop into your head.

"But why are you asking where my shirt is from?"

"Nothing, the shirt just looks like it's made of good quality fibre." you chuckle awkwardly as your thumb fiddles with the ring and gradually loosens it enough so that it can come out easily.

Jungkook squints his eyes in suspicion as he leans forward to observe you. "This shirt could not be made of cheaper quality fibre."

"Hehe," you say (yes, you literally say hehe) with a wince. "That aside, can you help me put this ring on?"

You point to the golden ring that now lies on the table surface and then point to your greasy right hand, in an attempt to explain why you can't put it on yourself.

Jungkook, thankfully, doesn't think much of it. He picks the ring up with his left hand and wordlessly asks which finger you wear it on. You lift your ring finger to give your answer and moments later, he's gliding the ring on your finger.

When Jungkook looks up at you, he finds that his vision has turned blurry and the harder he tries to focus, the more a splitting headache appears on the right side of his brain. He puts his hands on his head in hopes that it would give him some comfort but it doesn't help at all.

Your brows furrow in concern when you see the uncomfortable look in his eyes. "Jungkook, are you okay?"

Your voice faintly reaches his ears but the words do not register and he definitely does not manage to respond.

"Jungkook?"

The voices start fading out and his eyes start getting droopy.

"Jungkook!"

That's the last thing he hears before he blanks out completely.

Permanent Taglist:

@bloodline1632 @embrace-themagic @jeonsorchid @fragmentof-indiffernce @royallyjjk @jeonninja @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @blairscott @jungkookslittlebun

Series taglist:

@youremyjinearth @charcutetaerie @hunbun07 @jyupuff @rosieatron @armydgirl @heartjiminie @leedoesntknaur @j3oooonsnsns @teteschim @azur3s @berryonasummerevening

#Jungkook x Reader #Jungkook angst #Jungkook love triangle au #Jungkook college au #Jungkook fluff #Jungkook scenarios #Jungkook au #Fuckboi Jungkook #Jungkook ff #jungkook fanfic #Model au #BTS ff #BTS au #Jungkook imagines #Jungkook x OC

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idlerin · 3 months

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nonsense — 40. only your love

preferably listen to old love by yuji while reading :)

masterlist — previous | epilogue

✦ fun facts !

oikawa showed [name] the letters he wrote for her :)

[name] is wearing her necklace with oikawa’s initials on it again :)

oikawa is regularly showered with [name]’s random drabble ideas :)

they have a joint morning routine now :)

oikawa went with [name] when she talked to her parents :)

sometimes they spend nights together with [name] writing papers and oikawa reading manuscripts :)

oikawa is spoiled with affection ([name] is too) :)

nonsense ! an oikawa tooru social media au

a/n — THIS IS IT officially the end of the main story!!! its been such a long journey with u guys (cuz of my hiatuses) and IM ACTUALLY SO HAPPY AND THANKFUL AND GRATEFUL TO EVERYONE WHO STAYED READ COMMENTED REBLOGGED AND MORE nonsense wouldnt be nonsense without you guys ☹️❤️ i have more to say but i’ll be putting it in the epilogue (3-parts, will be short) the epilogue is essentially just a bonus and this is like the actual last part of the story :(( love you guys i’ll construct a proper message i swear HAHAHAHAA okay last thing, thank you for loving oikawa and [name]’s love and sticking till the end!

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cryingismystand · 2 months

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Chapters: 1/12 Fandom: ジョジョの奇妙な冒険 | JoJo no Kimyou na Bouken | JoJo's Bizarre Adventure Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Higashikata Josuke (JoJo: Diamond is Unbreakable)/Nijimura Okuyasu, Giorno Giovanna/Guido Mista Characters: Higashikata Josuke (JoJo: Diamond is Unbreakable), Nijimura Okuyasu, Kujo Jolyne, Giorno Giovanna, Kujo Jotaro Additional Tags: alternative universe, Modeling AU, Alternate Universe - Bodyguard, Modeling, Josuke is a model, Okuyasu is his bodyguard, Stalking, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Cuz I live for the traumaaaa, Background Relationships, tags will update as chapters come out, Power Dynamics, Eating Disorders, because they're models and make jokes Summary:

Josuke Higashikata isn't just any model – he's a freaking supermodel. But when his agency threatens to let go one of the top models, his manager has no choice but to put his clients–Josuke, Giorno, and Jolyne–into the cutthroat world of the Star Walk, the biggest runway show of the year. There's only one catch: Due to a recent stalking incident, Josuke has to have a bodyguard glued to his side. Josuke doesn’t want to have a bodyguard. But when he meets Okuyasu, a dimwitted, oddly attractive and fiercely loyal man of his word, he quickly realizes that their relationship can easily become much more complicated.

#jjba part 4 #josuyasu #josuke x okuyasu #Model au #bodyguard au

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sansas-amythest-hairnet · 5 months

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Sansa Modeling Au

Sansa’s first feature shoot for “Highgarden”.

#asoiaf #game of thrones #a song of ice and fire #asoif/got #asoif fanart #asoiaf fanart #house stark #sansa stark #model au #modern au

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aclowntiny · 8 months

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Kalon- Model!Jun x Female!Assistant!Reader

My piece for September Candyland 🍭 Kalon: beauty that is more than skin deep. Inspired in part by Jukebox the Ghost’s Jumpstarted hehe

Word Count: 3500 | Model AU, Coworkers to Lovers | Warnings: minor sexism, rude coworkers (not Jun), physical insults but not targeted to any feature

Tagging @chwecandi & @sunnylovespickles too just in case I messed up the tumblr tag 😄

“He’s so hot,” they muttered outside the doors and even in the halls, “how is he real?”

Your glasses were a little too large for your face- they kept sliding down, forcing you to push them up. The office was a dream come true, but you couldn’t help feeling intimidated. Wen Junhui was a famous model, practically the newest industry legend, and you had gotten the job managing things in his office. You’d probably hardly see the man himself in person, but the starstruck feeling persisted regardless. It felt odd to be an invisible player for such a public figure, a fixture of awe.

Qualified for the job as you were, you felt out of place, frankly. You weren’t sure of the office dress code, opting for something off the plainer end of your wardrobe just to blend in, you hadn’t had time for much makeup, and your hair sure wasn’t anything spectacular that day either. Everyone you passed by, models and photographers and makeup artists, barely spared you glances.

At least you’d be paid well and have a great line on your résumé. You enjoyed keeping things organized and that was what the model known simply as Jun needed. His life was organized chaos, and you were to be the former half of the phrase.

Footsteps echoed behind you as you made for the glass door of your office. “Oh, excuse me,” you said, stepping forward and holding the door open. As you turned, you were met with the stunning smile of a man in a suit.

“Thank you so much, ma’am. Oh, say, you must be the one who’s here to help me out.” Jun himself stood before you, expression bright. The words may have seemed condescending coming from someone else’s mouth, but his whole affect was so genuine the thought of him judging you didn’t even cross your mind.

Precious little did cross your mind beneath the sheer starstrike of meeting the very man who received such buzz behind his back, such almost mystery at his poise and looks. Several heartbeats passed before you even replied at all.

“Yes, I am. My name is-”

“Wait!” He stopped you eagerly, smile growing wider. “I want to make sure I remember correctly! (y/n), right?”

“Yep,” you stuttered a bit, clutching your folder to your chest, “yep, that’s me.”

“I hope you can enjoy working here. If you need anything, please tell me.”

“That’s what I should be telling you!” You burst out before you could stop yourself.

Luckily for your career, your new coworker chuckled at that. “I like to think both of us can help each other,” he replied warmly, finally disappearing through the door you held open, making sure it didn’t hit you as you followed.

This was going to be a great job, you could tell. Respect levels varied among who you worked with, one set of higher-ups dismissively asking you to bring coffee for an eight person meeting like you weren’t Jun’s personal assistant, just a lowly receptionist or intern, but respect came where it mattered.

Placing the last to-go cup in the mostly-flat quadrant carrier, you checked off the last of the coffees and teas ordered by the directors, agents, and models. Sighing, you pocketed the used list, sliding your hand underneath the one carrier and hoping you wouldn’t spill anything while your hands were full. It wasn’t that you minded grabbing coffee, it was more the way they asked, AKA demanded. They didn’t see you at the same level as the other assistants or even secretaries, whether that was because you were new, a young woman, or simply less chic. Had the man even uttered a ‘please’ you would have felt different.

“Hey, that’s a lot. You shouldn’t even be doing this.”

Turning, you saw Jun at your back, concern etched across his handsome face.

“I- I don’t mind,” you stammered, attempting to lift both carriers like waiter’s trays.

“Oh, no no no, let me get one, please.” Sliding his hand beneath yours, the model deftly plucked four of the drinks from your hand. “That guy was so rude, if he wasn’t a huge investor I would have punched him. You don’t even work for him. You must be so much kinder than me,” he chuckled as you set back off down the hallway.

You flushed. “Well, like I said, I don’t mind, and I’m so new here, so-”

“I get it,” he nodded, tone calming, “I’ll mention it to them. Of course you don’t want to start any fights! You know our software like the back of your hand, though, and even your way around a camera. All those guys know is money signs. Don’t let them sell you short.”

“Ok,” you nodded shakily as the doorway approached, both of you disappearing back into the meeting room with its long, imposing table.

How did you get so lucky? The little smiley faces your…boss? Colleague? Jun wasn’t really your supervisor, come to think of it…sent you in all his emails and the stuffed cat on his desk named Jun Junior he waved you off with had had you smiling, but the way he took those coffees, the way he immediately told the suited big-wig you were a tech whiz, and you were there for him, not just some intern, had your heart fluttering.

Coffee runs you could handle, but petty high-school insults? Everyone was too old for that. You had earned your way into an amazing opportunity, taken too much care into your work to be pushed around by people talking about your looks behind your back. Especially when the man you worked with had such a big heart.

The same people who wondered if Jun could be real wondered how someone with your appearance could work so closely with him.

“She should be ashamed coming to a place like this looking so plain.”

“I know. Doesn’t she know she works for a modeling agency, not some temp desk?”

“They must have done a blind interview, otherwise they would have known she doesn’t match our image at all. I wonder what Mr. Wen thinks.”

“Not much, I bet.”

“What a shame. Well, she’s a secretary for sure,” the first woman flipped her ponytail off her sleek, purple-silk-clad shoulder as she gave a small shrug.

At the time, you said nothing, passing by as if their words rolled over muffed ears. Verbal spats would solve nothing but the question of if you would stoop down to their level, and just like with the coffee there would be no falling for that on your first day at work. Day one in that beautiful white-tiled building with all its glass panels you apparently looked like only belonged in as some sort of substitute.

Proving them wrong silently, though? Not a qualm in the world.

You’d scheduled a haircut for that night after work, so the moment you said your good nights to the remaining few staff and cleaners heading out with you it was straight to the salon. Barbed words spurred you on to take the risk on the chair, daring the fresh hairstyle you’d considered off and on the last few times.

It looked amazing. Shaking your hair out with satisfaction, you gave one more glance into your mirror at home before pulling open your closet doors.

Day Two of your job. That morning, you’d opted for your nicest business-casual dress and done your favorite hair and makeup look, feeling more ready than ever to step out of that elevator.

And sure enough, when you did, you were met with whispers beneath doorway sheens, eyebrows raised beneath Prada glasses. Half of you wanted to tell those people off, speak into their stares exactly why they should be ashamed at treating you like a different person for conforming to the speech of their shallow hearts. The other half, though? It had your shoulders raising a bit with pride at turning heads.

Reflection reaching for the long silver handle of your translucent office door, you stepped in with a newly burning passion for your day’s work, starting it with the difficult call you’d been putting off, one you knew would require a bit of negotiation.

You argued perfectly for the best shoot conditions Jun could have, and when you tapped into his office he did an almost childish double-take that had you flushing.

“Wow,” he breathed, sitting up straighter, “uh, hi. What did you need?”

This was one stubborn tripod. Whoever had previously set it up, they’d locked the legs so tight it took every muscle in your hands to pry the thin solid cylinders apart. Fingers working between them, you finally unlatched the last hold and pulled the trio back into their triangular state, glasses sliding down your nose at your downward stance.

“All right, I can take the camera now.”

At your word the photographer hooked up his device and you carefully placed it in its spot just outside the makeshift set.

A few weeks had passed since that tentative first few days, time to earn some respect for practically rewriting the whole agency office’s scheduling program and undeniably increasing efficiency. Despite that, though, your heart was falling more and more into the field, jobs that had you cramming supplies into Jun’s company car and sliding into the backseat with him for a quick debrief before assisting tech. While the model himself got his makeup done, you learned more and more of what models went through and even tips the photographers gave them nine out of ten times they stood before the camera: ways to turn, flattering poses, all the fake behaviors to play at eating or using products, even the generic photoshoot smile Jun had taught you through his jokes in the car and called you a natural at. Even the ruder office-mates had cause to shut up seeing you do more physical work they didn't want to do anyway.

"Where is the man of the hour, anyway?" The jovial photographer asked, hands upon paisley-belted waist.

"Probably getting his makeup finished," you giggled, leaning against the drink table behind the scenes.

"Well, I'm sure he looks great. Go get him out here- he won't listen to anyone but you,” the man teased, waving you forward with a smile.

You couldn’t help but wonder what the man meant as you shuffled off, straightening the blouse you’d chosen to balance comfort and style. It was fun in its own right, thinking of those things, even if it was exhausting.

Verity of the photographer’s words or not, Jun did sit right up at your call. You shared what he said about the model looking great, summoning one of the bright laughs you loved from his lips. He tilted his head like a cat, lashes fluttering a bit.

“What do you think?”

Your body had already half-turned to leave the brightly lit bustle of artists and their dusty craft as he spoke. “I beg your pardon?”

“Do you think I look good, (y/n)?” It was almost startling the way breathed the question, fixing you with that intensely inquisitive stare. Jun meant it, truly cared what you thought, hoped he measured up. People spoke of him like he was something beyond humanity, but he was more human than so many of the people you met, so down to earth.

Breath hitching as you pushed up your glasses and took in the way his dark brown hair fell lightly tousled onto his brow, the way the stylist had unbuttoned just one less than usual of his shirt’s fastenings, the way the makeup artists had subtly brightened his lips, and all you could do was nod.

“Then I am ready,” he responded, smile widening as he followed you to the set and posed for the camera more magnificently than you’d seen yet.

The next day, you arrived to work strangely anxious. Leaving early had given you the opportunity to grab a little something extra; clutching the bag, you made to knock on Jun’s office door, but he beat you to it, stepping out right as you raised your hand.

“Oh, (y/n), perfect! Got a little something for you here.” In his outstretched hand was a to-go cup from the café you frequented.

A surreptitious turn of the cup proved it your usual order. You smiled sheepishly. “Thanks, I really need the caffeine this morning. I did not sleep well last night, you can probably tell.”

Smile staying put, Jun gave a little shake of his head. “Your heart still shines as bright as ever.”

As if those words hadn’t shot an arrow straight through your palpitating heart, you just glanced down at the bag in your hand. “Well, I was hoping to shine some light on your morning. I got you something too!”

“Is that…?” Lighting up, he peeled the white paper open and grinned like it was Christmas. “Muffins! We’re the best, aren’t we, (y/n)?”

At that, all you could do was laugh with him and remind him you guys had a call at ten.

This shoot was a two-person. Jun and a female model were posing together to show the men’s and women’s collection of a latest designer drop. This photographer was a bit less forgiving than the kind, fashionable gentleman you’d enjoyed setting up with last time. By that point, you were well used to business types. At least this guy didn’t demand you a starbucks run or a sandwich or anything.

Most of his ire was directed toward the poor beauty, demanding a more complicated pose of her than of Jun. You didn’t even want to think about why, just shook your head in sympathy as he criticized the way she bent. Jun was going to stand upright, one hand leaned casually on a little white column as he looked halfway into the camera, while she had to fold her arms across it practically bent at a ninety-degree angle. You’d seen that pose given to female models before, pulled it a few times just to imagine the uncomfortable tension at the base of the spine the women had to go through.

That, likely, was the problem. If you rolled your hips wrong, it could hurt, not to mention looking that much less natural. Rocking the boat was the last thing you wanted to do, but hearing the photographer criticize the woman’s inability to take the pose well just got to you, bringing you right back to your first days when everyone thought the new assistant beneath them. You’d proved them wrong, now it was this man’s turn.

“I think what he means to say,” you began, keeping your voice just timid and kind enough to dull the pointed inflection of your words, “is that it’s ok to keep your hips relaxed, like this.”

Jun stepped from his side of the podium, proudly waving you forward. Your eyes fell from his as you, faintly smiling, bent onto the short, gaudy column that was their set dressing. Keeping yourself relaxed was pretty easy- the temptation to stick out more simply wasn’t there for you. Sticking anything out, standing out, wasn’t something you craved on the daily.

But sometimes it felt good. “Yes! Exactly like that! She knows the pose,” the photographer half-praised, half-complained, tugging on his tie.

“Let her do it, then,” Jun suddenly spoke up.

“What?” The photographer goggled at him.

“Let her do it with us. She’s seen plenty of what we do. We all know I can’t go to a shoot without her. Why not let her get on the other side of the camera?”

The older man’s dark eyes slid your way, then drifted just as quickly back to Jun. “She’s not exactly a model.”

“You just said she knew the pose better than the pro,” he replied with crossed arms.

“She doesn’t have the look that fits our concept,” the photographer hissed, setting his camera down, “I mean, some people get hired to stand in front of a camera and some go behind it. There’s a vision for this brand, you understand.”

The words choked you a little, strangling your chest a little tighter than teenage-level barbs. In this man’s eyes, no one would believe you passed as part of the beauty industry. Such views were a given the way he spoke them- nobody would ever believe someone who looked like you would make it on a front page or an instagram post. You'd never be on a model's level, just the girl who worked for them. Perhaps that was what bothered you most- everyone around you dooming you to a lower plane of existence than the kind, handsome joy of a man you worked for with one look, one judgement.

“I do understand,” Jun replied, stripping the designer jacket off his chest and handing it to the stylist waiting at the camera, “and that’s something you’ll never have Wen Junhui’s support on. Find someone else to do the shoot.”

Never had Jun’s voice, always so soft and sweet and comforting, hardened like that. The sound of it had your back stiffening, almost startled out of the painful jolt to your chest and falling of your gaze. His tone was low, icy, and firm as he stepped calmly toward the illuminated exit of the studio hanging and oozing pale red light over the pristine white door. Your head swiveled back and forth between the exit and the studio, its pale blue background almost entirely empty.

"But- But-"

Protests, weak and incredulous, fell from your lips, but Jun shook his head, a small smile returning when he met your eyes again. "I'll take the hit on the client. The agency heads will understand when I'm done with them. We know what to say." He winked, and your shaky heart fluttered again.

"I know you didn't ask to model or anything," he continued, "and maybe you wouldn't have wanted to do it. But what that guy said? It made me mad. I didn't even know wrong words could make me feel angry like this until I heard what he said. This isn't the way I wanted to tell you this at all, I wanted to wait until we were both in my office and I had the courage to get you flowers or buy your lunch on break but you usually bring it...er, anyway, (y/n), you're the most beautiful girl in the world. Prettier than any model or idol they have on those cameras. Know why? Your beauty is more than skin-deep. It wasn't made, it just is. No need to try and make yourself up for it. You endure so many harsh words and still act kind. You're smart, writing programs hardly anyone else in the agency knows a line of. The fact that you have a gorgeous smile, too, just makes you an all-kill."

Jun...thought that highly of you? Tears welled up briefly in your eyes at the balm of his words over the photographer's, disappearing smoothly and warmly back with a blink as your eyes fixed on his beautiful brown gaze. One thing about your model associate, you knew, was that he never lied. Never said anything he didn't mean. Perhaps his resignation shouldn't have surprised you, but as you disappeared through the swinging exit door, it hardly occurred to you in favor of his last sentence repeating in your mind.

"I don't know what to say," you replied, sure your smile looked as dreamy as you felt, but nothing short of a meteor would have stopped that.

Jun took your hand in his, running a thumb across the back of it so softly you thought you might melt. "Say you like me, too. Well, only if you do, you know..."

"I know," you nodded, "because I do. Everyone always talks about you like some mysterious figure, like you can't be human just because you're so handsome, but they don't see your true beauty, either. Jun, you're truly one of the sweetest people I've ever met, and it's because of you I feel so comfortable and respected in my job. You make my day with how excited you get over muffins and let me talk to Jun Junior. Every day has something to be happy about, but you always know how to get down to business when you need to. I admire that. I wish everyone could see that, not just how hot you are."

His eyes bugged. "You think I'm hot?"

"Well," you flushed, frozen on the sidewalk at his side, "stealing their words. But I guess my secret's out? Or maybe the real secret is how we're both all-kills."

Jun giggled with you at that, looking a bit flushed himself as he leaned down, pressing a kiss to the back of your hand. "It's like I said, (y/n). We're the best. Please let me buy you lunch one of these days. I'll take your picture and prove just how beautiful you are, inside and out."

#septembercandyland #seventeen #seventeen imagines #seventeen reactions #seventeen x reader #seventeen scenarios #jun #jun x female reader #seventeen x female reader #female reader #model au #coworkers to lovers

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planetkiimchi · 9 months

Text

people watching | b.c

no. 4 of my song collection

featuring: producer!chan x ceo!reader, and the rest of stray kids in varying positions in the music industry

word count: 12352

warnings: pg13, quite a bit of swearing, vomit, alcohol, rooftops (?), crying if you don't like that, angst

summary — you’re a hurricane, and chan knows this all too well. you’re the one who crashed into his life on a regular afternoon, bringing him into the middle of an industry he’s always been at the edges of. he would never like to fall in love with his boss, but you’re a lovable tornado, and for all your chaos, both of you still love to sit down and take a break. those who know, call it “people watching”.

playlist. people watching by conan gray ; 18 by one direction ; wolfgang by stray kids ; omg by newjeans ; coping by rosie darling ; dna by lany

a/n: there’s a little bit of … smau hints here. i guess. i’m not really sure what to call it. also, 12.5K words ? that’s so crazy. i wanna thank my beloved @blue-jisungs for beta reading this. i know you had a headache n everything but thank you so so much for your comments n feedback, it def feels so much more polished w your help <3 and as always i hope y'all enjoy!

if you liked it, REBLOG it.

prologue.

Y/N’S MOTHER WAS A MUSICIAN. A few years back, she started up her own business producing records, but after a while the company still wasn't doing that great. As her child, Y/n took an interest in the company and began to start promoting it better.

You found several producers that you enjoyed listening to music from, and with some promotion (and help from your brother Jisung), everything went swimmingly.

By some miracle or other, the company, SFX labels, accidentally went viral on TikTok. You had Jisung to thank for that, because he was the one who had found Seungmin to manage the online presence of the company. People started taking an interest in your company, and you built up your brand on finding indie music makers and making them big.

Jisung also helped to find amateur musicians or producers with potential, and trained them, teaching them how to become better at their craft.

However, over time and as the company grew, you found your position growing more and more mundane. Your work was boring at best, soul-sucking at times, and you found yourself wondering how you went from passionately enjoying your work to the place you were at.

Your mother suggested you take a break, and you decided to wander around "Lonely St.". It was a little alleyway near your old residence, and was so fondly called because it was a narrow street where many beginner indie musicians frequented. Shops that sold music albums and instruments lined the street. Often shaded, the street was safe from crowds and human traffic was low.

When you were younger, you had often gone there with your mum on visits to see the producers and musicians there. While she tried to strike a deal with them, you would busy yourself with the gadgets and music paraphernalia. Some were expensive, but that was just how music was.

Everyone there was friendly and as you grew into your early twenties, you used to go there for inspiration, bringing home your ideas and channeling them into music. Sometimes your mother would help you develop it, leading to the songs stored on your laptop for nostalgia.

Seeking to rekindle your passion for music, you headed over to Lonely St. and went into the second shop, one with posters tacked up on the wall.

The store was silent, but not eerily so. Instead of cobwebs and dust covering the room, it was all colourful band posters and stickers, all the records neatly stacked up in piles. You barely had enough space to walk, but it only felt cozy, and not too crowded at all.

The decor reminded you of a gothy teenager's room, instruments hidden in the corners and the soft humming of a song playing through the speakers, lyrics indiscernible. Among the magazines and albums you found a man hidden deep inside his work, frowning in concentration.

You cleared your throat and he looked up; you recognised him vaguely but didn't dare to ask. It had been years since you had come to the store, surely he wouldn't remember you from his time working there.

He didn't recognise you, nor did he know that you were now the CEO of a music producing company.

He greeted you in a friendly manner, but looked clearly agitated as he wanted to get back to his work. You dismissed him with a wave, telling him to concentrate on his music while you browsed through old records of musicians you had grown up listening to.

Time passed differently in places like that. Secluded, detached from the outer world, it was so easy to get lost in the dusty archives of history. Songs told tales people didn't understand, like a language with familiar sounds, yet indiscernible the more one tried to listen to it.

In liberal spaces like that, with light filtering through the cluttered windows, you barely realised that two hours had passed. The labyrinth of songs had you hooked, and you would have stayed there all day if you could. You picked up an old CD of an album you vividly remembered playing at your eighteenth birthday party, and picked it up to ask if the man could put it on for a bit.

However, he looked engrossed in his work and you didn't want to disturb him. He worried his lip and tilted his head, groaning softly in frustration. Clearly what he was doing wasn't working for him. You didn't want to disturb him; you knew he would be annoyed, but you needed to go home soon.

You carefully placed the CD case in your hand back down; startled by the sound he glanced up suddenly, realising how silent the store was without the rustling sound of you browsing through the endless albums.

"How may I help you?"

You were tempted to ask him to play you his song, but that might be like intruding on a private part of his soul. You would know how it felt.

You fumbled in your purse for a business card. Would that be too odd? To go, "Hey, I run a company, I think your music would be great even if I haven't heard it yet"? Because you somehow had the gut feeling that he would be perfect, and you knew your instincts never failed you.

You shook your head and dismissed those thoughts. You didn’t want to make him feel awkward. Instead, you decided to buy the record, and the man proudly showed you that it had been signed by the singer.

“It’s a little more expensive, though, because of that. That’s why it hasn’t been bought yet,” he told you sheepishly.

“Oh, that’s fine. I don’t mind spending a bit more.”

He clearly expected you to change your mind when he showed you the price, although you knew from experience that signed records tended to sell for much more, so you were already prepared.

It was, after all, a small price to pay for the discovery of the man himself.

HE FREQUENTED YOUR THOUGHTS for the next week. Even buried in work, with papers piling up for you to sign, projects waiting to be approved, people looking to sign with your label, and managers looking to clear the policies on dating for the singers under them, you couldn’t stop thinking about him.

The mysterious song producer who made music on the side while he ran a music store along Lonely St. had caught your eye, and was not likely to leave your mind anytime soon.

You really wanted to get to know him better, but you had no time. Besides, people didn’t often go to stores with strangers to buy expensive items. Usually, they would go once they’d established a rapport with the people there. Lonely St. was there for the community, not just the things they sold and the treasure trove of advice and ideas the people harboured.

You tapped your fingers against the table impatiently as someone knocked on your door. You glanced at the clock and sighed. If you could, you would have liked to get off work early, but it was still two hours before your official working hours ended.

“Come in,” you called.

Your assistant, Seungmin, entered the room. Looking around at the mess of papers that lay on your table, he sighed loudly and obviously.

“What?” you asked defensively.

“I sent the papers in neatly, organising them by manager and then group or singer in order of importance and urgency. I even had different stacks of folders for projects, people looking to sign with us, and policy issues. And you just leave them strewn around? You really don’t appreciate my effort, do you?”

You scrunched up your nose. “Sorry, Seungmin. Promise I'll get to filing them away later. I'm just not in the mood right now.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Is this because you have too much work? I heard you went to Lonely St. last week. Was the break too short?”

You nod unhappily. “I really want to go back, I think I stumbled across a real gem there. I saw someone making music and I'd love to hear it, he sounds like he’d be great for our label and I want to know what kind of concept he would fit.”

“But?”

“But he’s a stranger! I daren’t ask, you know how I get about these sorts of things.”

“Hm.” Seungmin looked through his phone, then smiled at you. “Well, I think you’re in luck. Jisung just texted me about going to Lonely St. to ‘run some errands’. He said he’d go with Minho-hyung, but he’s busy with work too. I could fit it in your schedule if you get all of this organised for me to return to everyone who’s waiting for it.”

You nod. “That sounds good. So, is tomorrow too soon?”

“No,” Seungmin said, taking it down. “Enjoy yourself, Y/n-ssi.”

“Thanks, Seungminie.”

SOMETIMES YOU WONDERED where Jisung got his upbeat personality from. Personally, you were a very chill person, and both you and Jisung were introverts, like your mother. Your father was more outgoing, but none of you were particularly high in energy besides Jisung.

It was quite intriguing, you mused to yourself, humming quietly as you waited for Jisung to arrive. You were early, but you couldn’t disguise your excitement. You’d finally get to meet the man again! Hopefully, he would be there and not somewhere else. Many of the shop owners took turns hiring different part-timers looking for a side job to make a bit of money while they sought an agent or company willing to take them.

Fortunately for you, Jisung was a lucky charm. You went with him to pick up a few magazines for him to decorate his room. Ever since he was a teenager, he’d been a collector of photos, and whenever a magazine cover featured his favourite artists, he couldn’t help but to buy it to add it to his collection.

His room was filled with posters and magazines, but somehow it hadn’t turned away any of his friends or lovers.

Once you’d picked up what Jisung wanted, you dragged him by his wrist to the store named ‘St(r)ay Away’. You loved the play on words, and that was what had drawn your mother in as well when you first went there.

Behind the counter was the man you’d been looking for. He was tapping away at his computer, mouth pursed in concentration. He glanced up when the ringing bell sound signalled your entrance, and smiled at both of you, eyes lighting up when he caught sight of Jisung.

“Ah, Jisung, hello! Good to see you again. I see you’ve got new magazine covers?”

Jisung grinned proudly. “Yep! Look, Twice-sunbaenim even did an interview inside! I can’t wait to read it when I get back.”

The man nodded. “And this is…?”

“My sibling, Y/n! they brought me here, actually. Y/n, are you looking for something?”

“You,” you blurted out, staring incredulously at the man. Seriously, what was it with Jisung and his charm? You could never have made friends with someone the way Jisung did.

“Chan?” Jisung asked you, confused. “What do you mean?”

“Ah, nothing. I was just surprised to see him again. I came here last week, and spoke with him when getting my album. I was particularly interested in what song he was arranging.”

“Oh, that. I was just working on a few songs for myself. I'm looking to release them, but I haven’t found anyone to help me with that yet,” Chan explained.

“You know you can always sign with us, hyung.”

“I don’t know if I'd fit your concept. And your label is so big! I might be overshadowed and I wouldn’t like that.”

“Jisung’s right,” you interject. “You’re welcome to sign with us, if you’d like. here’s my business card, in case you’d like to speak with me instead of—” you looked Jisung up and down— “this fool.”

Chan stifled a laugh, taking the card from your hands with a slight bow of his head. “I'll consider it.”

“And send me a song or two! I'd love to listen to what concept you have going on so I can match you with someone who understands your creative vision.”

Chan bowed his head again. “Nice meeting you, Y/n. And thanks for dropping by, Jisung. See y’all next time!”

SEUNGMIN RAPPED IMPATIENTLY on the door. He didn’t even wait for you to invite him in, which was odd because on normal days Seungmin did at least have the manners and the dignity to wait for your reply before barging in. He might have had a tongue that was quick to lash out and a well-hidden sailor’s mouth, but he wasn’t often rude in terms of entering.

“It’s Minho-hyung,” he managed breathlessly. “I had to run up because the lift wasn’t working, but that’s the message I got downstairs. Minho-hyung’s back in town.”

You swiveled around in your chair and raised an eyebrow skeptically, gesturing for Seungmin to sit and catch his breath, all the while humming as you thought about what this could mean.

Minho was your and Jisung’s childhood best friend. You grew up together, and your fathers played music together on the weekends, while you kids got together for a marshmallow-roasting by the fire. You knew everything about Minho that there was to know about him, and one thing about him was that he simply could not settle down.

He had spent five or six years as a dance teacher by now, having started out young. He was always restless, and it had been you who had suggested he go to a dance lesson with you. Ballet had left a terrible impression on him but a couple years later he did pick up contemporary in school.

He later expanded his repertoire to street jazz and hip hop, and more specific skills like popping and waacking. Two years back, Jisung had invited him to join SFX labels as a choreographer, and each one of his dances had outdone the previous one.

But the thing was… Minho never grew out of his restlessness. Even as a young adult, he itched to move about – not just in a physical manner like dancing but on a larger scale, like travelling around. It was lucky for him that he was tall enough and looked good, so you could sign a contract with him as a model under SFX labels. He then had the opportunities to fly around the world and sightsee, all the while earning money and enjoying himself.

It was a really good deal, if you could say so yourself. Perhaps not something that would suit your taste, but to each their own.

Since he had signed on as a model and you stayed in Korea to manage SFX labels, you hadn’t been able to meet up with Minho at all. So him coming back to Korea? That was quite the news.

Besides, Minho knew how to make an entrance. He wasn’t one for blitzy and glammed up spectacles, but he knew how to do just enough to make heads turn and subtly draw the attention of everyone in the room to himself. He brought his own spotlight wherever he went, and this instance was no exception.

It was interesting that Minho had chosen now to come back, because in two weeks’ time, your company was having a party to celebrate its 5-year anniversary. Your entire family would be there, of course, and even your father, who liked to keep a low profile, would probably have to clean up and make appearances. Just to keep up the reputation.

You hummed away, lost in your thoughts. Seungmin’s breathing eased and you turned to him. “Is he free?”

Seungmin shook his head regretfully. “I’ve already asked Minho when he arrived. He said he was busy, but he would definitely meet you at the company event. Specifically, Minho wanted to be your plus-one.”

You tilted your head to the side. Minho as your plus-one? That was funny. Usually that would imply that you had some sort of higher rank than him, and although you technically did, he was still older than you by a year and had held that over you throughout your entire life. Besides, Minho had his own invitation. In fact, he should be bringing someone you hadn’t met before as his plus-one.

You and Jisung usually went as each other’s plus-ones, that way you couldn’t get into any dating rumours but you also wouldn’t look like lonely old people with no friends. You were each other’s best friends… or at least that’s what you thought.

If Minho wanted to change things up, you weren’t going to object. It was time Jisung got an official date, anyway. Wasn’t he sick of only ever having lovers for a month? This would be a good change for everyone.

You nodded at Seungmin, right before a notification flashed on your screen. Seungmin excused himself while you clicked on the notification curiously.

You immediately clicked on the files, regretting it only a little. Sure, you had more work to do, but they wouldn’t be as interesting as what Chan had sent you.

As expected, Chan’s demo-style sample got you engaged and hooked right from the start. He was very intentional in his use of unconventional sounds (did you just hear someone growl? You hoped not), and it was something refreshingly new from the constant lull of K-pop producers chasing trends.

It was raw, and clearly written just for him. It wasn’t really polished the way one cleaned up their works when they wanted to send them to someone. It felt like a first draft, something that definitely had potential but was still in the works.

You couldn’t tell if the lyrics were meant to be changed later on but you didn’t want him to tweak it much. You enjoyed the use of both English and Korean (though you had to admit, your English wasn’t very good, so you had to search up some of the words he used) and the style of the rhyming. His vocals were good, but not polished-strong. It sounded a bit husky, but he could definitely carry a tune and hit the notes he wanted to.

And the rapping definitely caught your attention. Of course you had heard good rappers before, but Chan just stood out somehow. Maybe it was the tone of his voice or his flow, but something was just… different. And you liked that.

You didn’t know if you had anyone available who could match his style, though, and you told Chan that.

You immediately dialed Seungmin to let him know how things had turned out, and asked him to send your apologies to Minho, and ask him to go with Jisung instead. It was definitely going to be an eventful party.

YOU NEEDED SEUNGMIN. Or Jisung. Or even Minho. Just someone to keep you grounded. The party was too busy and too noisy and you were finally starting to understand why your father preferred to stay at home and chill, because it was absolutely suffocating.

Conversations were happening everywhere, and polite greetings streamed out of your mouth without a second thought. You had to bow to many people but you could barely remember their names, even though you had seen them plenty of times before.

You breathed heavily in and out and your eyes scanned the crowd for Jisung. Where was he? How was he? Would he be able to take over for you while you found somewhere to rest for a bit?

A hand tapped your shoulder and you whirled around, catching sight of a familiar face. Chan. A wave of relief washed over you, and you grabbed his extended hand for support and shook it.

“Glad you could make it.”

“Me too,” he replied. “Are you alright? You look flushed.”

You shook your head. “No, I need to get away from here. But first, I need to find Jisung.”

Good things must come in series, because you finally spotted Jisung in the crowd, chatting happily away. Your social energy was drained but considering Jisung’s wasn’t, you should be okay to leave the scene for a bit.

“Ji,” you told him softly in his ear. “I need some fresh air, I’ll pop out for a bit.” He nodded absently and you caught sight of his jacket on a chair. “And if you’re not using this, can I borrow it? I’ll return it to you later.” He nodded and waved you off, his conversation never pausing for even a second.

You slid your hands in the jacket, grateful that you and Jisung were of about the same size. It fit like a glove, and was warm enough for you to head outside with Chan, onto the balcony.

The balcony was empty save for one person, gazing out across the wide expanse of Seoul onto the streets, brightly lit by streetlights. A whoosh of cool air hit your face, a breeze whistling past your ears. You quickly shut the door behind Chan, and he hovered behind you, unsure what to do.

The person in question turned, and your eyes met Minho’s. He was as tall as you remembered, gaze as clear and sharp as it was in your memories. He held his arms out and you collapsed into his embrace, warm and inviting around you. “I missed you,” you murmured.

“Me too.” He got down from the ledge and pulled out a chair for you to sit, finally seeming to notice Chan’s presence.

“Oh. Minho, meet Chan. Chan, meet Minho.” You stretched your lips in a nervous smile as Minho gave Chan a once over. You had seen Minho do that before, and it was the most nerve-wracking thing ever. He would slowly trail his eyes down your figure, analysing every piece of clothing you owned, your jewellery, your makeup if you had any, your smile, your eyes, your hands, even the shoes you were wearing.

And, if he deemed you worthy, he would nod. You would sigh in relief, of course. That was only polite.

Chan, however, didn’t seem to get the memo. He cocked his head as Minho swept his gaze over him and smiled when Minho nodded, proffering his hand for Minho to shake. Minho took it, and you—of all people—sighed in relief.

You gestured for Chan to sit opposite you, and Minho drew himself a chair next to you, crossing one ankle over his knee and leaning back languidly. It almost looked like a challenge to you, but Chan didn’t take the bait.

“Soo…”

You quickly became engrossed in your discussion with Chan, who, to his credit, ignored Minho for the most part and stayed completely focussed on what you were saying. You managed to discuss a price he was willing to work for, and agreed that he would release a mini album by the end of four months, with the help of one of the agents whom you’d convinced to clear her schedule.

Chan was very agreeable, only offering a different opinion when it came to his work style. He said he preferred to work in “St(r)ay Away” rather than in the studios you had, claiming that the “people watching” was good for inspiration.

You always wanted to give your artists creative freedom and control over their work environment as far as possible, so you promised to make the necessary arrangements.

Tapping on the glass interrupted you, and you turned your head at the same time as Minho to see an eager Jisung waving excitedly at both of you. Minho got up, engulfing you in another hug.

“Don’t drink too much,” he murmured. “Try not to do stupid shit. Yes, you’re a consenting adult, and no, that doesn’t make you immune to the influence of alcohol.” You nodded obediently and patted him on the back before he hurried off, anxious to catch Jisung before he got lost among the crowd again.

You sat back down and watched Chan out of the corner of your eye. As you talked with Minho, he had watched you carefully as well, noting the soft, protective tone that Minho spoke with and the ease with which you agreed. He had pulled his phone out of his pocket and began furiously typing away, humming to himself as he did so.

Curious, you thought. That was what you did when you got inspiration as well.

The lights inside seemed to get brighter as the night sky darkened, the stark contrast drawing your attention to it. You noticed Changbin, your ex, who was dancing with Jeongin, Hyunjin and Felix on the dance floor. They were having the time of their lives, finally having some freedom under your label after transferring.

The freedom in question was demonstrated when the first thing Changbin had done was to ask you to be his significant other. You probably shouldn’t have agreed but you were young, stupid and in love.

He was handsome and a good rapper but most importantly, he was kind and respectful towards women. He was also funny when he wanted to be, and all in all it had really sealed the deal for you. Only after the rumours and scandals started to threaten both of your careers, had you given in to the pressure and broken up. There were no hard feelings, but residual attraction remained.

You bid goodbye to Chan, who was already engrossed in his own thing again. He followed you back into the warmth of the building, only to settle down in one of the comfortable chairs and busy himself with his own things.

Hesitantly, you made your way towards Changbin. Although it was a company event, it wasn’t very uptight and controlled, so there were drinks being served and music being played. It was almost midnight and the mood had clearly shifted towards a more energetic, crazy mood, and Changbin was very much at home.

When he finally saw you, the world fell silent. Your breath hitched in your throat as you waited nervously for his response. Everything else had fallen away, and for a moment it was just the two of you existing in the continuum of time.

“Y/n!” He called, hugging you tightly. “It’s so good to see you again.” You greeted each of the members politely, and Hyunjin stared at you, mouth agape.

“And here I was thinking the Biny/n crumbs twitter account was the only way I could see the two of you interact again.” You rolled your eyes at Hyunjin’s sassy remark, inwardly comforted by his (however backhanded) welcoming words.

“Let’s get some drinks and talk,” Changbin suggested, and you followed mindlessly as he ordered drinks for both of you—a margarita on the rocks for you—and you sat down, amazed that he still remembered what you liked after all that time.

It was so easy to fall back into step with Changbin, it almost felt like no time had passed at all. He was still the same cheerful, positive person who had so much going on in his life. You, on the other hand, were still the one who lent a listening ear, shaking your head exasperatedly when he told you of the shenanigans he had been up to.

Of course, the two of you drank, and drank, and drank. He told you a funny story, and you drank out of a need for your hands to be occupied. You told him of your troubles, and you drank to drown your negative thoughts, he drank out of solidarity. He told you of the injuries he had sustained, you told him to be more careful. He laughed. “Yolo!” Both of you drank.

Drunk minds speak sober thoughts. That’s what they said, wasn’t it? It must have been true because you would not have been able to catch up with Changbin for so long if you had been sober. The conversation would have dwindled when it came to a sensitive topic, and the atmosphere would have grown awkward.

But it was easier when you were drunk. Everything seemed to spill out of you like the liquid courage you were consuming, and no barriers remained to hold anything back. It flowed and it flowed, words that you would never had uttered if you still possessed any form of sobriety.

Changbin must not have noticed, because he did not comment. You were both too flushed and too drunk to form any kind of coherent thought, and the only thing you wanted when the world started spinning was to get away from everything. You excused yourself to go to the bathroom and Changbin stumbled after you.

However, he was too drunk to walk straight, and was quickly taken away by Hyunjin with an apologetic smile towards you. You didn’t see it, consumed only by the bile in your throat and the swimming of your vision.

You went to the bathroom, only making it as far as the one meant for wheelchair-bound persons when you collapsed over the toilet bowl, unvoluntarily regurgitating your previous meal.

The taste of mushed up food remained in your mouth, the acid burning your throat. You looked at yourself in the mirror and you sighed, rinsing whatever was left out of your mouth and washing your face. You also removed any of the minimal makeup you had applied to make yourself look presentable.

Your eyes looked smaller, and you could now see the imperfections on your face, but at least you were authentic. Right?

You pushed the door open (it had closed by itself) and almost slammed it in Chan’s face.

There he stood, arms hanging awkwardly by his side, watching you with concern. You wobbled, and his arms subconsciously stretched out to catch you. You leaned onto him for support and he tried to help you walk away from the toilet.

“Where do you want to go?” Chan asked you worriedly. “You really don’t look good, Y/n-ssi. I think you should go home.”

“Mm… Can’t. Need to find… Jisung. He’ll know what to do,” was all you managed before you passed out, slumped in Chan’s arms.

Fuck. Chan stared at you, completely flabbergasted. What should he do? He had never had to deal with drunk bosses before. Sure, he had dealt with his fair share of drunk friends, but never someone who was superior to him in rank, much less a stranger whom he had just met a few weeks ago.

He decided to bring you back to Jisung, when Minho spotted him.

Minho’s eyes hardened and his smile disappeared into a thin line when he spotted Chan holding your body, leading you away from the gender-neutral bathroom meant for wheelchair-bound people.

He had been talking to Jisung and catching up with Jeongin and Felix, finally loosening up as the evening progressed, and Chan just happened to be in his line of sight.

And, of course, you. Of course you had ignored what he had told you and gotten drunk and blacked out. Of course you ended up in the arms of a man he didn’t know, whom you had been talking to when the night was still young. And best of all, of course you had to be dragged out, unconscious, from a bathroom. Who knew what could have happened to you inside the bathroom?

“Ji,” he called once, loud enough for Jisung to hear, before he made his way over to you, all but snatching you from Chan’s arms.

He shifted you in his arms so he could comfortably carry you, bridal style, glaring at Chan. “I don’t really know who you are, but if I find out you’ve done anything to Y/n, you’re a dead man.”

Jisung rushed over to his side, his smile falling off his face when he saw what was happening. “Chan-hyung? Minho-hyung? Anyone would like to fill me in?”

“I saw him with Y/n, dragging their unconscious ass out of a toilet. Who knows what he’s done to them,” Minho replied viciously before Chan had a chance to answer.

“Chan-hyung… seriously? I thought you and them were just friends,” Jisung said disappointedly. Chan tried to defend himself, but both Minho and Jisung turned their backs on him, Minho pressing his forehead to yours as he carried you out to Jisung’s car.

THE NEXT MORNING, you woke up to natural light streaming in through the windows, and the delicious smell of pancakes wafting in from the kitchen. You hurriedly dressed and got out of the room, spotting Minho and Jisung whispering to each other urgently as they sat at the table, clearly waiting for you to make an appearance.

“Morning.”

“Morning. I tried to tell Minho-hyung you were old enough to deal with a hangover yourself, but he just wouldn’t listen.” You looked carefully at Minho: at his disheveled hair, his bloodshot eyes, and the messy creases in his suit from the night before. He looked like he hadn’t slept a wink.

As if reading your mind, Jisung explained, “He sat by your bed all night, afraid you would wake up and have some horror story to tell about last night. He didn’t sleep at all.”

Poor Minho. He definitely needed his beauty sleep, but it was alright because he was pretty either way. You checked your phone; luckily Jisung had had the presence of mind to help you charge it and you had received several messages. A couple were from your parents, telling you to sleep well and let them know if anything had happened, and from Seungmin, Hyunjin and Changbin, in that order, asking if you were okay. Seungmin also asked if you were coming for work or calling in sick. The last one was from Chan. He asked if you were okay, if Minho was mad at him, and if you were going to reconsider the deal. He’d understand if things had changed, he said.

You told him it was still on and Seungmin would deal with the logistics. You replied to everyone, explaining that you were fine and thanking them for their worry. You told Seungmin you’d be late but not to any meetings. You’d be there in an hour, you said.

You told Jisung that you needed a lift. He told you to take your things and he’d meet you in the car once he took his keys.

Minho watched you blankly, too tired to function. You tilted his chin up to get a good look at him, sighed when you saw the bags under his eyes, pressed a kiss to his forehead and thanked him for bringing you home; for noticing you passed out even when there were so many other people there blocking you from his sight.

He returned your smile tiredly. “I’ll always be there for you. We agreed, remember?”

You did.

WORK WAS SO DRAINING, all you wanted to do was go home and sleep. You would give anything to leave the room and the discussion, and the meeting being about the most mundane things ever was not helping. Obviously you understood the importance of market share and dealing with your competitors, but you were not in the mood to listen to the board’s insistence on rebranding or some other form of expanding your target audience.

Was this what corporate life was like? Because you definitely weren’t cut out for it. Your eyelids were drooping and you were dangerously close to collapsing on the table if it weren’t for the caffeine running through your veins.

Seungmin had greeted you with coffee that morning, “under Minho’s orders” to make sure you weren’t too hungover and also to keep you awake. It helped keep the headache at bay, and you thanked Minho.

He hadn’t replied yet, so you assumed that he had finally gone to get his beauty sleep, glad that you hadn’t asked him to drive you that morning.

One of the board directors was talking your ear off, and you had almost forgotten about Chan. At least, until he clocked in for work, claiming to have “reached his studio”. It was accompanied with a goofy selfie of him at St(r)ay Away.

You were confused by how comfortable he seemed to be with texting you and also his excitement to get to know you, which showed through his messages. But it was cute, and you were starting to warm up to him.

Chan was insane. He sent you a picture of the progress he had made and you were glad you could be there to keep him accountable. You ran a company and you couldn’t do that for everyone. But then again, you didn’t personally recruit everyone, and not everybody helped get you out of a creative slump. So you supposed you could make exceptions when it came to Chan.

He shot you a quick text, saying “going home now! you should too 🥱” and the corners of your lips lifted in the smallest of smiles. It was only something small, but the gentle reminder to take a break and not to overwork yourself made your day.

Still grinning like a fool, you dialed Seungmin’s desk and told him to go home as well, a skip in your step as you made your way to Minho’s car. Since the company event, he said he wanted to drop you off at work and pick you up to keep you safe. (How crazy that he cared for you more than Jisung did; Jisung didn’t give enough fucks to give you a lift to and from work.) In return, you offered for him to stay at your and Jisung’s place, and he took up residence in the guest room.

He opened the door for you, asking you about your day. You told him of all the boring administrative things, keeping to yourself the texts that Chan had sent you. They were just a one-time thing, you thought to yourself. Sooner or later, the novelty of texting you would be lost, and Chan would not check in with you anymore.

You couldn’t be more wrong.

Chan continued to text you about your day every day for the time period leading up to the release date for his album, for which a name was pending. He didn’t seem to send you any more songs after that, which you sorely missed.

He probably didn’t dare to overstep his boundaries, which you understood. But you didn’t want him walking on eggshells every time he interacted with you. So one day, you impulsively told Chan that you could be a beta listener for his songs if he wanted to send them to you. You didn’t do that for everyone, because you’d be a very busy person, but Chan’s music style appealed to you. Plus, you were constantly intrigued by what was going on in that head of his.

When Chan sent you four songs that he was planning to put in his album, you were pleasantly shocked by how he seemed to be outdoing himself. Having a purpose and a cohesive theme across several songs allowed him to express himself better, and when giving him feedback, you found that you were genuinely excited for his release.

You checked your email for any updates from his agent or his manager, and entered the release date on your calendar. You wanted to be free on that day so you could congratulate him in person.

You were thinking about this as you exited your car from the passenger side, Minho coming out from the driver’s side. For the month that he had been in town so far, he had consistently driven you to work every single day. You joked that not only was that the longest amount of time he’d ever spent in one place, it was also the commitment that he’d stuck to for the longest time.

Sleepily, you laid your head on Minho’s shoulder and sighed tiredly. You really wanted to go home. The real reason that you were hanging on through all those boring meetings was that you were looking forward to Chan’s release, and you had to keep the company going for that to happen.

It was funny. Ever since you had visited “St(r)ay Away”, you felt like something was missing. It had been a brief but much-needed reprieve and without that feeling of “wow, this is what music is supposed to sound like”, you felt a sense of emptiness.

The sense of emptiness continued throughout the entire day, only intensifying when you were in the presence of Jisung’s “partners” (whom you greatly disagreed with). Their creative vision of the company was going to absolutely destroy all your morals and everything you stood for as a CEO. You wanted to promote small groups, give artists freedom in their music and emphasise on uniqueness, not follow the same concepts that were “trending”.

You didn’t care if it wasn’t as financially beneficial as the marketing gimmicks the partners had thought up, you wanted to stay true to your family and your own ideas. Besides, in the long run, were they really going to priorities their monetary gains over the mental health and the passion of the artists?

Clearly, they had no qualms about squashing the creative ideas that their artists had. “They’re i-doll-s for a reason,” one of them even joked. Jisung looked uncomfortable, but he didn’t speak out.

Annoyed with your brother and everyone in the room, you looked down at your watch and found that it was time to go home. Telling Jisung to deal with it but not make any decisions yet, you took your leave.

The door swung open and somebody stumbled back. You quickly stepped out and shut the door, coming face to face with Minho and Chan.

“Oh. Hi,” you said, forcing a smile onto your face as you looked at Chan. You hadn’t gotten your daily selfie that day, and you’d texted Chan about it, but he hadn’t read your text for the whole day.

When you turned to Minho, you saw a muscle in his jaw twitch ever so slightly. His tell. “Minho? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he said, trying to casually brush it off. But you knew him better than that, and you weren’t just going to let it slide. Recalling the way he had been looking at Chan when you first turned to him, you deduced that it must have been related to Chan.

Speaking of which, why was Chan in the building? You and he had already agreed to let him work in his store, why had he specially come down to SFX Labels, and why today of all days?

As if reading your mind, Chan rushed to explain, “For some reason, my agent disagrees with your idea for me to release a solo album. He wanted me to produce music for I.O.U. because he and the manager are friends. I had to set up a meeting with the managers and producers, which wasn’t great. The members were friendly, but the producers were terrible. They couldn’t agree on whether they liked the music or not and constantly bickered the whole time I was there. The concept, style, and even the lyrics of their previous songs were completely different from mine, so I really wonder whose idea it was to invite me.”

You shrugged. “Stupid people are everywhere. Contrary to popular belief, I can’t be responsible for the actions of every individual under the label.”

The muscle in Minho’s jaw loosened, and he let out a snort. “You’re pretty stupid sometimes, too.”

“Not as stupid as Jisung, hopefully.”

Minho grinned. “Not as stupid as Jisung.”

CHAN KEPT HIS DISTANCE from you and Minho, close enough to keep you in his sight but far enough not to hear your conversations. Leaning tiredly on a wall, he looked up at the ceiling and sighed.

He hadn’t told you, but he thought Jisung had driven you to work in the morning when he spotted you getting out of the car. He was just about to go over and say hi to his favourite Han siblings, but got cold feet when he saw you resting your head on Minho’s shoulder. He was half thrown off by Minho’s constant affection towards you, half thrown off by how cold Minho was towards him.

Remembering Minho’s glare and his hug to you and how upset he had been finding Chan carrying your drunk self away from a public restroom, Chan had hesitated, finally deciding to just go in and not greet the two of you.

When he left the studio that evening, he was both exasperated and frustrated. He had wanted a creative, collaborative experience, not an argument he felt the need to mediate. That was why he preferred to work alone in a (mostly) quiet place and he regretted listening to his agent instead of consulting you.

He had been engrossed in his unhappiness, not watching where he was going. He hadn’t texted you that morning because of the Minho incident, and you had asked him about it. Chan had just been about to reply with two selfies (one to make up for it and one for the end of work) when he crashed into Minho. Minho and Chan both immediately apologised, Chan bowing in greeting to his senior, when Minho recognised him.

It was difficult to ignore the daggers Minho was sending his way, especially when Chan got the idea Minho didn’t have the best impression of him.

“Oh, it’s you.”

“Yeah,” Chan grimaced. “It’s me.” Minho didn’t look too happy. He would probably have given Chan a piece of his mind. Chan was readying himself for a “stay away from Y/n, you don’t deserve her” kind of spiel when, luckily for Chan, you walked out of the door, almost crashing into him. Again.

He kept quiet while you laughed with Minho, pressing his lips together and trying not to think about how it would feel if you were to have that kind of banter with him. Would he even be able to say something funny like that to you or would he turn into a stammering, blushing mess?

It was hard to tell.

But one thing was for sure. You and Minho had a dynamic that was hard to replicate, and he didn’t want to cross any boundaries. Even if they weren’t set in stone or clearly spelt out, he didn’t want to ruin whatever you had going on with Minho. He decided to remain civil with you, continuing to text you but never making a move.

After all, he didn’t stand a chance against Minho.

IT HAD BEEN THREE MONTHS. Three months since Minho’s arrival in Seoul and he was still there. You couldn’t believe it.

Every morning, you awoke from your bed (trying not to wake Jisung up on his side of the room, he had moved in to make space for Minho), and you tiptoed over to Minho’s room, fully expecting it to be empty.

You would have been less surprised to see an empty, cleaned out room with no evidence that Minho had ever been there, with maybe a short note that said “Goodbye. Don’t miss me too much” than what was happening.

It was early in the morning and Minho was still fast asleep, but still very much there. Physically present. It was such a shock to you and it was probably the longest time that Minho had ever been in one place, besides when he was too young to travel.

He must have had a sixth sense, because after about a minute or so of you staring at him to confirm that he wasn’t going to disappear magically, he sleepily blinked his eyes open and caught sight of you.

“Morning,” he mumbled, the corners of his lips lifting up into a smile.

“Good morning. Do you want me to make ramyeon or are you content with just the bread from yesterday?”

“Ramyeon sounds good,” he replied.

As Minho changed his clothes, you headed to the kitchen to make ramyeon. You were still half asleep, barely going through the actions, and when you set the bowl of noodles onto the dining table, you were caught off guard by Minho’s excited smile.

“What is it?” You asked suspiciously. Knowing Minho, he only smiled like that before he was about to play a prank on you, or when he was up to something sneaky.

“I think we should go to an open class,” Minho said, face impassive. He fought to keep his composure as he watched the struggle of emotions flashing across your face.

“What, like learn a dance? Together with a bunch of strangers?”

“Basically, yeah. I found this place and I’ve already booked it a while back. It’s pretty crowded sometimes so I decided to ask you later and just cancel if you didn’t want to go. I’d pay and everything.”

You would probably have said no, but you felt bad after all that Minho had done. Anyway, it wouldn’t be a complete disaster, right? You could only make so much of a fool out of yourself. Surely it would be fine.

It was not fine. Minho was not lying when he said that it would be crowded and if the morning hadn’t made your day, you would never have gone for another open class in your life.

The two of you had left a note for Jisung, telling him that you’d be gone for the day, and headed to a coffee shop to get a cup of coffee. The weather was lovely, a breeze gusting past as you sat outside the shop, precariously balanced on the metal stools, blowing on your coffee to cool it down. As you sipped your drink gingerly, Minho told you all about his adventures.

He told you about Italy and their delicious pizza, how there everyone’s mother was a cook and he was always invited for a meal at a different person’s house after each dance session. He had even bought a piece of art from one of the painters there and proudly kept it in one of his luggages to bring on future trips.

He told you about Taiwan and their night markets, how he’d made new friends with the dancers there and gone to get bubble tea and scallion pancakes together. He told you about the competition he won there, even speaking a few words of their language to convince you.

He told you about America and Turkey and Spain, and how every country’s culture and way of life was different.

He was a time chaser, if you thought about it. He wanted to experience everything that the world could offer him in the shortest time possible. When you were younger, he had come so close to dropping out of school that his parents said they would stop paying for his dance classes and competition fees if he didn’t buckle down and study.

You couldn’t understand him at the time. Why would anyone want to sacrifice the security of an education paid for by your parents to go jump into the great unknown that was the world?

But now, looking back, you understood why he was that way. Hearing his tales of his travels made you wonder if you were living life as vicariously as you could, or if you were living through the other people you saw.

And if you weren’t living, when would you start?

9.54pm

YOU PUT YOUR PHONE DOWN. Minho was spread out on the couch, facing you but not paying attention to you. You looked back down at your screen and the messages Chan had sent you and tapped Minho’s ankle with your knee.

“Yah, Lee Minho.”

“Yes, Han Y/n?”

“Chan asked me out.” This sentence caught Minho’s attention and he stiffened, head lifting up to look at you. His brows furrowed slightly and the muscle in his jaw twitched. He set his phone down, looked at you properly and gestured for you to go on.

“Do you want to go?”

“I’m not sure. I mean, he probably likes me, right? So I shouldn’t break his heart, right?”

Softer, until you almost didn’t catch it, Minho mumbled, “But the real question is, do you like him back?”

Then it was your turn to knit your eyebrows together in confusion. Did you? You had never been very good with feelings. When you were fifteen, Jisung had a crush on a girl and so did you. Naturally, Jisung acted like himself and you just hyped him up as best as he could to get him to ask her out. When she rejected him, you had been sad for Jisung but also slightly relieved. You had never told Jisung about the incident, because even when you were in your twenties, you couldn’t for the life of you think of what to say.

You couldn’t identify feelings very well and were too socially anxious to have the guts to confess. Luckily for you, Chan did. The confession had you thinking that you might have something with him. You probably liked him. And at the very least, you would have liked to start something with him.

You told Minho that, but all he had to say was, “Hmm.” What was that tone supposed to mean?

“Is there something you need to tell me, Lee Minho?”

Minho was quiet, which was not unusual. He wasn’t smiling, which was a bit unusual but not completely weird. His jaw was twitching, which was not unusual but definitely meant that there was something going on.

“I need to tell you something.”

Patiently, you waited in silence as you watched him struggle inwardly with his thoughts. His mouth opened and shut as he fought to find the right words to express himself.

“Han Y/n, I have loved you for all the time I've known you. I really, really like you and that realisation was probably what grounded me and led me to come back to this place I hate. I want to travel the world but only with you by my side and I've been searching for so long and I think I've found what i’m looking for. You.”

You must have been so stupid for not realising because of course you were the reason that Minho had stayed in Korea for so long. You remembered that morning when you had just been thinking of the very same thing. You were such a fool not to have noticed that the common factor in all of Minho’s happy stories was always you.

Didn’t you see the framed picture of you, Jisung and Minho as kids that Minho propped up at his bedside table when he first unpacked?

Didn’t you realise that Minho couldn’t—or shouldn’t—be able to drop you off because he had other commitments, but he did it anyway because his feelings for you ran deeper than just your friendship?

Didn’t you see the way his jaw twitched when he saw you speaking to Chan?

There were so many telltale signs but you were blind. He gave you signal after signal after signal but you chose to drown instead, swerving off the bridge into the deeper waters of denial.

“Then why’d you just sit there and tell me and Jisung to go for our crush when we were fifteen? You never told me you liked me your whole life. I couldn’t possibly have known.”

Minho smiled sadly. “I thought you knew when I told you I loved you that I meant it as more than friends. When I said I’d be there for you, always, I didn’t mean it lightly. You just never read into it and I didn’t want to ruin our friendship. But I had to get it off my chest before I left you, again. I don’t know if I’ll ever come back after this, Y/n.”

You tripped over yourself trying to hug Minho, but when you did, he held you so tightly that you could barely breathe. It felt as if he was trying to make up for lost time, tears streaming down his eyes.

“Oh, Minho.”

It was just like the first hug you had given him when he was in Korea again, when you saw him at the company event. His embrace was still just as warm, only that he was shaking, and you didn’t think it was from the cold.

You hugged him back just as tightly, squeezing as much comfort into your hug as you could, trying to hold him in your arms like he used to do to you.

“Please don’t leave me,” you whispered hoarsely. “I don’t think- I don’t think I could live without you.”

Minho only responded by hugging you tighter before he finally let you go, laughing as he wiped the tears from his eyes. “It’s okay. It’ll be okay. For both of us. I hope- I hope you enjoy your date. And I’ll stay a while longer. From there, we’ll see where the wind takes me, yeah? And maybe one day, you’ll come to visit me instead.”

Although Minho was playing it off and acting all nonchalant about it, you knew Minho liked to bottle up his feelings and never talk about it. In fact, he probably had a ton of bottled-up trauma he needed to talk about at some point in time.

However, for that moment, you were content not to speak about it. You would simply keep an eye out for your best friend, whom you still loved regardless.

The tension swells up Are you listening? Paddling and clambering onto your surfboards In anticipation of a wave You’re ready to ride

And all of a sudden there is quiet The peace before a storm

The raging sound of the winds And the moving ocean are lost Has no one told you to never try to tame the seas?

You must not have been a very good listener The rules try to cage a roaring beast The restrictions, limitations are pressing in.

The darkness is imminent All that is on the surface Is inconsequential The water hugs me tightly It drags me down

The silence in my ears is deafening My lungs scream for oxygen And everything goes dark

Has no one told you to never try to tame the seas? You must not have been a very good listener

I won’t be tamed Won’t be broken Won’t fall to your stupidity Try to cage me, hold me back You don’t know what I’m capable of

(Grr wolfgang)

Dark blue overshadows, You think you can stop me? You might be the king of the jungle But here, I am the leader of the pack

(SCREECH-)

YOU COULDN’T TELL IF the last screech was from the song or from the abrupt stop that Jisung had come to. Next time, you weren’t going to let him drive. You didn’t want to lose your life going on a date.

Chan’s album had just been released and though it was unconventional to release it early on in the morning, you had requested that it be so. You wanted to listen to it on the way to the pottery-making class that Chan had booked, but you also knew that it would attract more people to listen to it if they were actually awake when it was released.

The mall wasn’t far from your apartment, but Minho and Jisung had insisted on coming with you, obviously. They just couldn’t leave you alone. Minho had been hyping you up the entire ride over, telling you not to be anxious and that he and Jisung had your back if you decided to bail at any one point in time. Jisung was just there to chaperone, or so he claimed. You personally thought that he just wanted to poke his nose in your business because he didn’t have a love life of his own.

They flanked you like bodyguards, and Minho was dressed in black from head to toe, which really sealed the deal. Jisung pulled Minho away to the other side of the pottery studio, both of them sneaking glances at you every once in a while in between making fun of each other’s creations.

You, on the other hand, were feeling rather jittery. You rushed to congratulate Chan’s release and compliment him on his work. “It was stunning,” you told him. “I’m always impressed by your arrangements of beats.”

He smiled back shyly at you, blushing furiously. He had to look away for a second to compose himself before thanking you for the compliment.

With all the nerves and anxious energy in the air, it took a while for both of you to calm down. Then, you could finally start enjoying each other’s company without being overly conscious of your own breathing and your hair and everything else.

Chan turned out to have a natural affinity for pottery. Even the lady teaching the class asked if he had made anything out of clay before, because he seemed so experienced and talented at it.

You, however, couldn’t say the same. Your cup was looking a little wonky halfway through the process of making it and it was precariously lopsided. Chan reached out to help you straighten it, but not before snapping a photo of your stunned face with the mug.

“Hey!”

“I’m making that my contact picture for you,” he grinned mischievously. Oh, right. He was referring to that one time that you told him to use one of the corporate pictures on the internet for your contact picture. You’d almost forgotten it until he brought it up.

You could hardly believe how long it had been since that day. Your and Chan’s relationship had grown so much since then and you’d grown less uptight and stiff around him, additionally his sense of humour had started to show more.

You were so happy to have Chan in your life.

Especially when he handed you a mini flower bouquet after you had cleaned up and sent your pottery creations off for baking and glazing. You took it, slightly confused, until Chan excitedly asked you to untie the ribbon. The bouquet unfolded into a little coaster and it was the most adorable thing you had ever seen.

Chan even brought you window shopping at the IKEA opposite the mall, nodding with you as you criticised the room decor and agreed when you liked the aesthetic. If you didn’t know any better, it might have felt like shopping for an apartment.

Afterwards you went to get ice cream together, passing by a couple of plushies hanging on a rack. Unable to resist, you grabbed the wolf plushie keychain and waved it at Chan. “Grr, wolfgang.”

You couldn’t help yourself, collapsing into a heap of giggles.

Chan sighed like an old man, looking between the keychain in your hands and your face. The glee on your face must have been enough to convince him, because he took it into his hand, and reaching out with his free hand, he took a quokka off.

“That’s you,” he grinned.

You cocked your head. “Really?” You’d always told Jisung he looked like a quokka, and obviously the two of you looked alike since you were siblings, but you had never had anyone attribute your looks to that of a quokka’s before.

But Chan was looking at you so tenderly and you didn’t want to ruin the moment, so you took it from your hands and smiled at him.

“Let’s go get these, then.”

YOU SHOULD HAVE KNOWN dreams never lasted before you woke up in cold sweat, clammy palms gripping your blanket. You had had an awful nightmare about Minho leaving, a manifestation of your fears since he had arrived. It wasn’t a recurring nightmare but it still hit you hard.

Still in shock, you got up to go to the bathroom to splash your face and calm yourself down. It was dark outside, but the room that Minho had been sleeping in seemed eerily empty to you.

When you walked past it again, you did a double take. Minho had been packing his bags for a while and you had been anticipating his departure during that time. However, he had never actually told you when he was leaving Korea, and if he really meant it when he said he might never come back.

Full of questions, you went over to Jisung’s bed to wake him up. You were concerned but mostly confused, and you wanted assurance that Minho was safe.

Little did you expect that Minho had already informed Jisung in advance that he was leaving. The two had even booked Minho’s tickets together, strategically arranging it at night so that you wouldn’t have time to cry and make a big fuss of it all.

“The real reason he had to wake up in the middle of the night to get to the airport for a flight at the most inconvenient hours of the day is so that you wouldn’t make a big fuss out of it,” Jisung hissed. “Yet, even after all that planning, it still seems to backfire. All because you’re so fucking emotionally attached to Minho-hyung.”

You sucked in your breath sharply, but Jisung was relentless. “Have you ever considered my feelings? In our little trio, it’s always felt like Miny/n and Jisung who third-wheeled everywhere you two went. You’re always so caring towards Minho-hyung but never to me. You prioritise him at every stage of life. You idolise him. Maybe you’ve never stopped to think that he doesn’t want you next to him all the fucking time and that’s why he left.”

“I don’t prioritise Minho over you, Ji. I pay so much attention to him whenever he’s here because I never know when he might up and leave. I don’t know when I’ll see him again. And maybe you know, so you’re not worried, but sometimes he ghosts me for days on end and I don’t know whether to be anxious or to attribute it to his busy schedule. You don’t know what that’s like, do you?” You scoffed bitterly, biting your lip to hold back your tears.

“No,” he sneered. “You’re right, I don’t. Because I don’t stick to him like glue and he’s okay with telling me things he knows you can’t handle. You’re acting so damn immature right now and that’s probably why he never talks to you about important things.”

You couldn’t help yourself. The tears rolled silently down your cheeks at Jisung’s words. You knew that he was just cranky and upset, and that he said these types of things completely unprovoked when he was tired or mad, but you still hadn’t expected him to say something like that.

It was true, although you were older than Jisung, Minho always treated Jisung like the older one. He was more protective of you, and always delegated work and details to Jisung when you were planning anything together. When you were still in highschool, you remembered Minho had had a project he desperately needed to finish. You had leaped at the opportunity to be useful to him, but he’d rejected you and gone straight to Jisung instead.

Thoughts were spinning in your head as you remembered all the conversations where Minho had dismissed your thoughts because you were not “ready to talk about those sorts of things” or so he claimed.

Even now, when you were already an adult, Minho and Jisung still treated you like a child.

Frustrated, you changed out of your clothes and grabbed a coat to keep you warm as you left the house. Sitting at the doorstep of your apartment, you gave Chan a call, fully aware that Jisung was extremely close to kicking you out of the house if you didn’t leave him alone.

To your surprise, Chan picked up on the second ring. “Hello?”

“Hey. Can I, um, crash at your place? I kind of got into an argument with my brother.”

There was the slightest of pauses. “Sure. Send me your address, I’ll come pick you up. I don’t want you to catch a cold trying to get to my place.”

You rattled off the address, and you could almost feel Chan’s nod over the phone. “I’ll be there in fifteen.”

Chan held true to his word, reaching your apartment in exactly fifteen minutes, even coming up to your apartment door and gazing down at you as you sulked at the door, lips pouted and eyebrows scrunched together.

“Chan,” was all you managed out before he was hugging you, and you felt like melting right there and dissolving into a puddle of tears. “Jisung would have kicked me out if I didn’t shut up but I really needed someone to talk to because—hic—I miss him already,” you hiccuped, tears interspersing your words.

“It’s okay,” Chan whispered, stroking your back comfortingly. “It’s okay to let it out.”

You nodded and wiped your tears, hiccuping and leaning on Chan as he led you down to his car, driving you back to his house.

His house wasn’t much but when he brought you up to his roof, you were amazed by the view. You could almost ignore the city lights from up there, the only thing separating you from the stars being the vast expanse of the night sky between you and the constellations.

Chan brought out two bottles of champagne and glasses, while you snuggled under the blankets he had prepared. For a dirty rooftop in the middle of the city, it certainly was awfully comfortable.

It was also terribly romantic.

Chan wasn’t even settled in by the time you burst into tears, outright sobbing as you told him about how much you missed Minho. The softness of the air mattress under you didn’t make your heart ache any less, and the tears flowed from an endless reservoir, never seeming to run dry.

Chan wrapped his arms around you and held you tightly, giving you just enough space to feel sad but not lonely.

He listened to you while you told him of Minho’s tendencies to up and leave, your struggles with your friendship and how vulnerability looked different on Minho with you and Jisung and you didn’t understand why humans were so complicated.

He listened as you told him Minho’s life story and your history with him, why you would miss him so much and how much of your heart he happily occupied, wrenching it away from you each time he left. As your heart slowly grew smaller and scarred, you were sure it was becoming more closed off to others.

You? Emotional? Of course not.

But even your impressive gaslighting skills couldn’t convince you that you weren’t emotional, especially after all you had told Chan.

“Y/n?” was the first thing out of Chan’s mouth after a good minute of silence on your part. The void of noise was punctuated only by your hiccups every once in a while as you fought back a fresh wave of tears.

“I think you need to let some of him go,” he said hesitantly. “It’s okay for him to live his life, and you yours. It’s okay that you’re set on two different paths that only cross once in a blue moon. I promise you, you won’t drift apart just because he likes to wander. You will still be okay and whole without one person and you can still be really good friends.”

Smiling, he pointed to the sky. “Do you see Orion’s belt? Similar to you mourning Minho’s departure, it’s a huge waist of time.”

You laughed involuntarily, eyes shimmering but no longer crying. “Thanks. I think… I needed that.” You gazed at the stars, in awe of their beauty and how vast the universe was. So many things were there for you to be grateful for, you couldn’t afford to squander the gift of time longing for the past. After all, you had the present to be grateful for.

Sensing that you didn’t want to talk anymore, Chan guided your hand out from under the blanket and pointed your finger at the stars. “Do you see that constellation right there? It’s one of my favourites. Sirius.”

“Three guesses why,” you said sarcastically.

“Okay, maybe I’m a little cliché and like the dog constellation because it’s the closest to a wolf. What’re you going to do about it, huh?”

You only responded by pressing a kiss to Chan’s cheek.

“While you’re in a good mood… I also wanted to tell you that it’s okay to be emotionally attached to people and need a while to get over things.”

“And to get into fights with our loved ones?”

“That. Human relations are complicated. You should know that, you people-watcher. I see how your eyes dart in public from one couple to another, scouring the world for any form of humanity to include in your music.”

You felt called out but Chan had a point. “You do it too. Is it my fault that living vicariously through others hurts less than doing it ourselves?”

Chan smiles fondly. “You know everything will work out, right? Hurting out of love is better than not feeling love at all.”

“Doesn’t feel like it,” you reply, tears blurring your vision. Your hand in Chan’s tightened its grip on him, your rib cage aching as if your heart was really and truly broken.

Chan tilted your chin so you were looking at him, eyes meeting yours as you nodded, just the slightest of motions before his lips were on yours, kissing the pain and the tears away, brushing his thumb over your cheeks to wipe away the traces of your hurt.

“Hey, Y/n. It’s really going to work itself out.”

“And if it doesn’t?”

“Then crying is alright. It’s not a sign of weakness and you’ll let it all out. And from there, I’ll hold you through it all while you mend your broken heart.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

FIN.

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