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ggidolsmuts · 2 years

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A Christmas Mystery - Red Velvet Irene, Seulgi, ????

*Hey, I have a question*

*Hi Seulgi. Yes, sure, what's up?*

*No it's Joohyun, Irene, whatever, you know who I am. When are you going to write for me again? You've written Seulgi and Wendy, and then you've written Seulgi again! When is it my turn*

*Nice to meet you. Umm I dunno, I had no plans for that. And you're fine with me lewding you and all that?* Your hands are shaking slightly as you text Irene back.

*Can't be worse than some of the thirsty comments we get, at least you last long enough to write that much*

*Thanks, I guess? But sorry, no real ideas*

*What, am I not hot enough?*

*No, of course not. It's like a song, you know? Not every song suits the group. Not every idea fits you just because you're hot, even if you are hot*

*Fine, but if I come up with an idea, would you listen to it?*

*Sure, no promises though*

*Oh I'll make sure you'll want to write it, you just wait*

You gulp at her threat, and simply reply "OK". Irene doesn't follow up with an idea though, so you forget about it until Seulgi pings you once more weeks later.

*Hi, are you free Friday night?*

*Yeah, should be*

*Okay, can you come over? Irene unnie wants to tell you about her idea*

*Sure, I'll bring my laptop*

*I would also bring a change of clothes, just saying ;)*

*Great*

You're thrilled about what Irene had in store, and slightly fearful, given her adamant order to write, but there was nothing to do except to wait for Friday to arrive.

It is well worth the wait.

Seulgi and Irene have you arrive at a mansion, and you feel conspicuously underdressed as you approach the ornate door.

"Welcome, my dear writer." Irene almost fawns over you in a high-pitched voice. She's dressed in a little Christmas-themed red dress, white fur lining the top of it. Her hairstyle was simple, but simple is all that's needed when you look like Bae Joohyun. She produces a piece of black cloth and approaches you. "Nuh uh, don't move." Irene pulls it around your eyes, blinding you. You grunt as she ties it extra tight around your head before loosening it just a little. As a parting gift she draws sharp nail along your neck—Irene not only dressed to kill, she came to kill.

"Come on, follow me." You stumble closely behind as you hear Irene's heels click and doors swinging open.

"I've been reading your stuff, while mine was good, it's old, I want a new one."

"T-Thanks for reading them, and sure, but I can't really write while I'm blindfolded."

"Shut up. You have some interesting ideas, and I want my story to have all the interesting ideas. But no writing tonight, you'll just have to remember enough to write it later." Irene emphasizes this by taking your laptop out of your hands. Sit." You find yourself pushed onto a couch. Her hands are on your shoulders, and you reflexively reach out for her.

"Stop. Are you going to be a good boy and behave, or do I have to tie your hands up?"

"I'll behave." You stay still as Irene merely puts her weight on you and leans in.

"So you have stories about being blindfolded, stories about being tied up, a fucking gacha story, and so, so many breeding stories, so here's what's going to happen, this story? This story is going to combine everything!"

"O-Okay?"

"So, you'll say a number, let's say 1 to 9. One of us will come to you, and we'll do whatever we want with you. Maybe you'll be tied up, maybe you'll tie us up. Maybe you'll cum on us, maybe you'll cum in us, who knows what will happen, it'll be up to us. You'll call 4 numbers across two nights, and you'll be blindfolded during sex, so at the end, you have to guess who did you have sex with and in what order correctly."

"Sure, what happens if I guess wrong?"

"Then you have to write a story about this, remember every detail."

"And if I guess right?" She pulls on your ear harshly, making you wince.

"You just got to fuck four K-Pop idols, what more do you want?" Fair enough. "Do you agree?"

"I can still disagree?"

"Of course, then I kick you out of the mansion and we have our own orgy, you can have fun imagining that. So, yes or no?"

"Yes, I guess."

"Hah, I guess?" She reaches down to grab you through your pants. "I'll take this as a yes. Come in!" Irene calls out in the room, and soon you hear multiple heels clicking on the floor, getting louder, and to your surprise, it sounded way more than then 4 other members of Red Velvet.

"This is our guest for the weekend. I gave each of you a number earlier, if he calls your number, you get to have fun with him. Make sure he keeps the blindfold on, don't reveal your identity to him. Other than that, do what you want." You hear hushed whispers, but little else. A long finger is on your chin.

"Now then, what number do you choose?"

"Uh... 2?" Your selection is immediately met by a chorus of sighs and boos.

"Again?" You hear someone ask.

"Tch, okay 2, take him to your room." Irene's heels click and clack away from you, until the room falls silent. A hand grabs you by the wrist, and you follow closely behind number 2. A door is opened, then closed as you walk through it. You're spun around and pushed back, and you land on a bed.

"Hi oppa." You recognized her voice quickly.

"Seulgi?"

"W-What? How did you know?"

"You do know that voice is a thing right? It's only impossible to tell in writing."

"Oh, oops, I don't think Irene unnie realized that." Seulgi giggles. You breathe a sigh of relief—maybe this will be easier than you thought.

"Can I take off the blindfold then? I know who you are already."

"No, I have something in mind, keep it on, but the rest can come off." Seulgi's hands work on your jeans, and you take off your t-shirt. She pulls your jeans and boxers off, leaving you naked on the bed. "I'm going to paint a picture in your head oppa, I want you to imagine it just like how I imagine things when I read your stuff." Wordlessly you nod, and you hear Seulgi's heels stop in front of you.

"Can you guess what I'm wearing?" You shake your head.

"Remember our Beautiful Christmas MV?"

"Of course."

"Good, I'm wearing that little red dress, and nothing underneath." Seulgi's voice drops to a whisper, just loud enough for you to hear. Her hands grab yours, and you smell her perfume as she pulls it around to her back. The coldness of the zipper contrasts the heat between the two of you harshly.

"Go ahead." The sound of the zipper is deafening, like a lightning bolt crackling down Seulgi's back. "Thank you dear." Relucantly you let her go, your hand trailing over her warm body as she backs up.

"It's going to drop to the floor... now." On her word the fabric rustles to the ground. You're leaking precum everywhere already, imagining her naked, that she's wearing nothing but her accessories and her heels. Those same heels approach you.

"Seulgi?" You feel velvet on your thighs, and as your hand moves around on it, you realize you're holding Seulgi's dress in your lap.

"I want you to touch yourself, touch yourself like I did while reading Haul-lelujah. Do you want to know how I did it?"

"Y-Yes," you croak, throat suddenly dry. As you feel more than hear Seulgi sit opposite you.

"When I read it, I had to go grab the tightest leggings I had and wear them, do you know what I did next?" Your hand starts stroking up and down, a visible "yes" to Seulgi. "I pushed it— Ah! Pushed it into myself, I fucked my leggings, they got so soaked." You hear the soft wet sounds of Seulgi starting to finger herself, the rustle of the sheets telling you exactly how quickly or slowly she is going—instinctively you match her pace with your hand.

"And then I did what you said you'd do, rip my top off and slowly peel the leggings off. Then I shtuffed it in my mouf—" Seulgi's voice is suddenly muffled, but the bouncing of the bed leaves you no room for imagination—Seulgi's right next to you, fucking her own fingers as she bites into the sheets.

"Fuck Seul!" She's wetter than ever, and you're harder than ever. Initially you can still hear her movements clearly, her fingers exiting and entering her pussy in time with noisy slickness. But as she speeds up, it begins to all blend together, as does Seulgi's moans as she drives herself into a frenzy. Soon you're in a frenzy too, the blood pounding in your head as you stroke faster and faster, fucking your hand like you would be fucking Seulgi.

"Nnngh oppa!" You hear a loud squelch, and suddenly your shaft is drenched in her juices! You cum immediately, feeling the soft fabric on your thighs as you jerk forward—you forgot that it was Seulgi's dress, and in the moment it may well have been just the most expensive tissue in your lap. Blindfolded and too far gone to care, you fire freely, stroking yourself to completion until you're leaking on your fingers, at which point you wipe it on the soft fur fabric.

"Mmm Seulgi—" Your mouth is suddenly filled with a soaked fabric as you are pushed back on the bed. The same scent fills your nose as Seulgi sits herself on you, rocking her hips on your face. She's fucking your face just as you described, except her panties are in your mouth! Her fingers dig into your hair, and she's pulling on you, rubbing her pussy all over your lips and nose.

"Oh, oh yes, ohh..." Seulgi climaxes a second time, coating your face in her juices. She slides down a little, now sitting on your abdomen to give you room to breathe. Or so you thought, as Seulgi kisses you and bites on her own underwear, pulling it out of your mouth before spitting it out. She comes back in for another kiss—any more of this, and she's going to kill you by asphyxiation. "Thanks for a fun time, what number do you want next?"

You're still gasping for air. "W-We're not having sex?"

"Not tonight, sorry."

"Damn, uhhh number 7?"

"Who was number 7 again... Okay, I'll bring you to her." You hear Seulgi zip up her cum-stained dress, and you fumble for your clothes before she grabs you by the wrist.

"Wait, my clothes!"

"You'll have them afterwards, you won't need it for tonight anyways." She pulls you out and along some corridor, making a few turns before almost letting you crash into her. "Stop, stop, we're here!"

"Sorry, you need to tell me beforehand."

"Right right, anyways, the handle is right here," she places your hand on it. "Enjoy."

"Thanks Seulgi." You hear her walk away as you let yourself in.

"H-Hello?"

"Hi, please take off your blindfold."

"Really?"

"Mmhmm, don't worry, my identity is still hidden." You shrug and take it off. There is a wall in front of you, and a pretty big hole in the wall—through it you can make out milky thighs and a short red dress. "Please put your cock through the hole."

Oh, it's like a glory hole. You stand close to the wall and put yourself through the hole. The ensuing silence is explained immediately as her lips part around your shaft, and her tongue starts wrapping around you. You look up at the ceiling, the slurping and sucking sounds of your partner all that you need to paint yourself a vivid image. She sucks you furiously, and her hair is tickly on your thighs. Your legs go weak, and your partner takes the opportunity to grab your legs, pulling you closer to devour your cock.

"Oh fuck, wait, I'm going to cum already!" The warm wetness of her mouth immediately subsides, and you get the briefest glimpse of white going down her legs before she replaces her mouth by another set of wet lips. Your moans clash as mystery number 7 pushes herself back on to you.

"Mmm that's deep! Just stay right there." She starts pulling herself off you slightly before backing her ass into you again. She grinds herself deep on your shaft, and while the hole prevents you from thrusting back, you're glad that you're able to last longer because of it.

"Fuck I need more, back up a little, keep your eyes closed!" You back away from the wall and do as she says. When she has you open them again you see that she has stepped backwards through the hole, her slim waist filling most of the opening. You still can't see her face, but you are able to see what you needed—the bottom half of someone, their red dress barely covering their ass. She's wearing boots, but the black lacy stockings just make her legs look even longer.

"Go ahead, fuck me, give it to me good." You immediately lift the dress and push back in. Your hands naturally go around her wide hips as you settle inside her. You lift her hips slightly so you're better aligned with her, and it gets you an extra inch deeper.

"Oh god, that's it!" You set a quick pace, your thighs slapping into her ass with solid claps of flesh—she's tight, and her toned body tenses in your hands every time. Through the small gaps in the hole you watch her hair fly up and down, her head snapping back every time you push through her now creamy and sopping wet entrance. You raise a hand and bring it down on her ass with a snap.

"Ahhh!" She screams from behind the wall, but her pussy tightens around you even more. So you slap her ass again—it ripples just like her wails around the room. It rises in pitch, turning into a piercing shriek as you grab her by the hips and lift her—with a firm grip on her tight body, any complaint about you would be groundless as Miss #7 dangles in the air. Held up almost like a wheelbarrow, the hole serves as a fulcrum, and she is the lever of pleasure as you pound her, making her legs flail with each thrust.

"Fuck fuck fuck fuck!" With a final shout she goes breathless, and your partner's legs go rigid, toes splayed out, reaching for a floor she wouldn't touch—not until you were done with her. Her back is tense, and her muscles flex and twitch in rhythm with her pussy, desperate to milk you. But you hold on, to both her and your orgasm as a few drops of slick leak from your connection.

"Hey, I'm close, where—"

"In me," comes the tired reply from the other side of the wall. A few rough thrusts into her limp body and you almost pull her out of the hole as you yank her on to you. You let go with a groan, and her toes curl in response, hands gripping the edge of the hole tightly as you fill her own hole with cum. You let her down and she flops to the ground in front of you, her legs weak like custard. A puddle of white is already growing underneath her.

"Thanks, you should go." Her long hair covers her face, so you don't get a good look at her before she turns away from you.

"Do I call the next number now?"

"No, that's for tomorrow, just wait outside and someone will bring you to your room." Dumbly you wait outside naked, until a masked lady comes for you.

"Here, please put this on." She hands you the clothes you brought and shows you to your room, and you bow gratefully before collapsing in bed. It wouldn't do to wake up smelling of sex though, so you take a shower before burrowing into the sheets and falling asleep.

Sex is inevitable though, and you jolt awake feeling a warm, nude body by your side.

"Oppa?" You recognized the voice.

"I-Irene?"

"Joohyun please."

"Umm sure Joohyun, what are you doing?"

"Being selfish." She captures your lips passionately, and you're immediately hard even at the middle of the night. "I never told you, I really liked your sweeter stories too."

"Oh, thanks for reading I guess?"

"Please do that to me." Needily she rolls you on top of her. "I'm yours." Your lips make sure of that, sucking on her neck, leaving a bruise that the shadows can't hide.

"Oh god, say you love me, please!" Joohyun whispers hurriedly.

"I love you," you mutter, and Joohyun coos in delight—this was not the Irene you were expecting. Not the Irene that demanded you here to write a story, the Irene that always gets what she wants. This is the Joohyun who wanted to feel wanted, from you of all people. She's going to get what she wants, you suppose, but on your terms.

"So pretty, so nice..." you murmur, and Joohyun whimpers as you move a hand down her nude figure. You grab her butt lecherously, and all she does is twist towards you, to offer you more room to roam her thigh and leg. "Even though you have many fans, I love you the most out of all of them, you know?"

"Yes, please, please!" You pull her in for another kiss, and you hand waves small circles over her cheek, admiring at her juiciness. Closer and closer you get to touching Joohyun between her legs, and when you brush against her lips she squeaks and you gasp—she was soaked.

"Please oppa, please I need you!" Your fingers play with her slit, running them along one fold, then the other. You rub your fingers against her entrance, preparing her, but Joohyun pauses your advances. "Please, I want more than that."

"No, you want me to love you right?" Joohyun nods, and she moans in surprise as you slide a finger into her. "Then I'm going to love you my way." The protesting hand on yours melts away, and you begin firmly fingering the leader of Red Velvet, pushing into her clenching warmth.

"You're so tight Irene..."

"Joohyun!"

"Sorry, Joohyun, forgive me?" She blushes at your sweetness, and she tightens further with a nod. You kiss her cheek, her neck, her ear. Each kiss you push a little deeper into her, rubbing her a little harder. Joohyun's already on edge, so when you capture her lips and curl your finger, you draw her over the line.

"Mmmm!" She moans into the kiss, her upper body keeling towards you as her thighs close around your arm. You keep rubbing at her g-spot, and her legs thrash and kick about until Joohyun's utterly drained and her orgasm finally spent.

"I'm going to fuck you now." You withdraw your slick fingers from her, undress what little you have on, and get between her legs properly. As soon as you are in position you feel her heels on the back of your thighs—she's already wrapping her limbs around you.

"S-Slow, please?" Joohyun looked more vulnerable than ever, and you can't tell if she has you wrapped around her finger, doing whatever she wants you to do. Or do you have her wrapped around yours with how submissive a lover she's being. What you do know is that you have her wrapped around your cock as you take her slow, just as she asked.

"You're so tight Joohyun!"

"Y-You're too big oppa!" she groans delicately, relaxing herself to allow you in. The feeling of being inside her is nothing like you've imagined, and you take deep breaths against her neck as you eventually bury yourself inside her.

"You feel incredible, I mean it." Joohyun responds by wrapping herself tighter around you.

"I'm happy, keep going, make love to me, fuck me, whatever you want." Your fingers run through her hair, brushing them to the side to get a look at her. Joohyun really is gorgeous, and her lips part beautifully as you start drawing your length in and out of her. She shouts in pleasure as you lean down to tease a nipple, swirling around the stiff nub—with a gentle nip you also leave light teeth marks on her breast.

You go back to watching Joohyun, her expressions varied, morphing in bliss as you hit different spots inside her—her lips would purse as you hit really deep inside her, then open in a loud moan as you pull back. They then stay parted in a small "O" when you slide back in at the right angle, rubbing the g-spot you found earlier. Her eyes wander your face, but also flutter shut, especially when it got a bit too much.

"Don't hold back," you order. Your fingers through her hair suddenly pull on it harshly, yanking her head back and opening her windpipe. At the same time you start a demanding rhythm, a strong pace that is determined to drive Joohyun into a screaming climax.

"Ah, w-wait! Oppa! Ahhh!" Joohyun wails uncontrollably, crying out into the bedroom as the sudden fierceness sends her hurtling to another peak. She screams as you put one powerful thrust after another into her during the orgasm, forcing her leaking slick back into her before it is pushed out by the next wave of slick. There is a small wetspot between her legs by the time you stop moving, and Joohyun's face is glowing in sweat and pleasure. It is also glowering in determination as she starts bucking up against you, urging you to move again.

“M-More, I want more!”

Your own orgasm nips at your heels, and you respond in kind, starting up slow before quickly picking up the pace again. Your harsh breaths are right in her ear, and she turns to kiss you, swallowing your exhaustion.

"You're going to cum?" Treating it as a demand in your frenzied state you move faster. Joohyun yelps and begs into your ear. "Oh, oh fuck! Just cum in me, just make me pregnant!"

Roleplay or otherwise, that's too much from her, and you kiss Joohyun fiercely—the taste of blood is on your tongue as you erupt in her, unleashing a white flood on her womb. She quivers and shakes underneath you, whispering how hot your cum feels inside her. It makes you wonder if you've actually done the unthinkable. As you finish seeding her, your kiss turns gentle, light pecks in apology for drawing blood. Even bleeding from one side of her lip she still looked beautiful, and you lean in for another kiss as you collapse on top of her.

"Thanks," Joohyun whispers. "I really wanted that, even if you might not write about it later." You're too drained to speak, and simply smile and nod.

She cuddles up against you, pulling your arm over her—for the moment, the two of you are lovers, and you raise a hand to brush the blood from her lip.

"S-Sorry about that, got carried away."

"It's okay, I don't mind if it's you doing it." She pulls your hand to her tummy, and now you're really not sure how much of it was roleplaying. You're too tired to think, maybe you'll clarify with her tomorrow, for now you needed sleep.

You wake up the next morning smelling of sex, but the bed is unfortunately lonely—Joohyun had left sometime in the early morning. In the room there is a brunch spread and a note. You read the note as you go through the delicious brunch.

*Please rest for now and stay in your room, you will next call a number at 3 pm*

That left you plenty of time to refresh and rejuvenate, and you head for another shower before simply relaxing on the bed, flipping through TV channels and your phone. On the dot at 3 pm there is a knock on your door, and a masked lady pokes her head through.

"What number would you like to call?"

"Umm, 6 then?"

"Aww okay, please follow me." You follow her out the door, and she looks around before whispering in your ear.

"If I were you, I'd pick 8 next, okay? It's a lucky number, trust me." You nod confusedly, and she continues showing you the way. When you arrive she blindfolds you before guiding you through the door. "Don't forget!" is her final whisper. You're left waiting for Ms. 6, and she approaches you confidently going by her footsteps.

"Welcome, this way please. You may leave your clothes on the floor." Once she's satisfied with your nudity she guides you to the bed and has you lie down. "I hear from Seulgi unnie you're good with your mouth?"

"Umm—" You freeze as her weight is on your chest—she's already sitting on you! "Yes."

"Good, please go ahead. Let's see how long you last."

"Wha— Ohhh..." Her hot mouth is suddenly wrapped around your shaft, and realizing what she wants your arms reach up for her hips, pulling her up slightly so you can eat her. You lean your head forward slightly, and as soon as you are able to locate her properly you start licking her slit, drawing light vibrations from her mouth around your shaft. Her entire body rocks on top of yours, alternating between bobbing her head on your cock and grinding her pussy all over your mouth. You hiss into her thighs as she gently grabs your sack, massaging it and pushing you close. You respond by spreading her juicy cheeks, a stray finger playing dangerously with the hole above her slit.

"Damn, that's—" The sudden pause in her rocking allows you to double down, and you slip a bit of your finger into her ass. "Ahh!" Gently you push your fingertip in and out, pushing against her resistance just enough for her to feel it. At the same time you keep the pressure up on her slit, licking it up and down. She doubles down on sucking your cock, determined to get you off first. It becomes a race, the suction of her cheeks almost unbearable. But what is really unbearable is your focus on her clit, ruthlessly flicking it with your tongue. When you slip your finger deeper into her ass, it's like you've run a rod through her.

"So fucking dirty, oh god!" She orgasms first, her hands going to your thighs, grabbing on to them for support. Mindlessly she bucks on you, riding out her climax, rhythmically pushing her ass back on your finger—you can feel her shiver and clench around you when you go deep.

"You did not write about that, ah..." She gets off you, pulling you to the edge of the bed. "But you didn't write about this either." Propped up on the bed, you moan as you feel your cock sandwiched by her soft pillows. Her tongue is suddenly only on your tip rather than wrapped around your cock, and as she strokes it with her tits, the race restarts, except you're the only one racing, and like Father Time, Pleasure is unbeaten. Your partner feels it too, and she licks the underside of your head deliberately.

"Fuck, that's it!" You groan loudly as you release, the feeling of her tits moving along your shaft exquisite. It is then replaced by a stroking hand, and your balls are gently squeezed by the other. "Ah..." She coaxes even more out of you, and you're almost falling off the bed when you finish.

"Wow, hah you can take off the blindfold, you've covered me completely." You see that it is true when you pull the fabric off. There is white goo all over her face, and some is on her well-endowed chest too. She really is unrecognizable, save for one open eye and a bit of her forehead. "Now put it back on, I'm going to go clean up."

"S-Sorry about that."

"Don't be, you were blindfolded." Her laugh is unrestrained. "You should wash your hands before you call the next number, none of us expected that."

"Right." She leads you to the bathroom and helps you wash your hands. She applies impromptu lip balm in the form of saliva on your lips, courtesy of her tongue pushing into your mouth. You're tempted to pull her against you for a similarly impromptu fucking, but she eventually pushes you away.

"I would have loved to have you for the night, but perhaps next time." You settle for a hand on her ass, squeezing it as she leads you to the door. Immediately you hear the masked lady again—has she been waiting for you the whole time?

"So, who are you calling next?"

"I'll call 8." You manage to remember the masked lady's request, and she squeals in delight.

"Yay, that's me!"

"Wait, really?"

"Mmhmm, come on, let's go!" She drags you stumbling through the halls and into her room.

"W-Wait, why are you leading me around, I thought you would be waiting in your room."

"I got the short stick to drag you around to the other girls, so might as well make the most of it." She spins you around and pushes you on the bed. "Now, how do I want to do this?"

You take the time to try and process the new information—she may have had the mask on, but you had seen her. She's petite, small in size and with short hair, who has that haircut? Before you can think further, Number 8 is in your lap, removing your clothes.

"I know about you and Irene unnie." A chill runs down your spine, how?

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Tch please, I was going to sneak in myself, but then I heard her screaming her head off. You'll do the same for me right? You'll breed my flat little tummy?"

"I-I don't even know who you are." You hiss as she sucks your collarbone.

"You'll find out in 9 months, and you can write about it then, call it 'How I bred—'" She pauses and laughs to herself. "Woops, almost revealed myself, are you ready yet?" She jerks a groan from you in response. "That's a yes."

When she gets in your lap, you realize she is smaller than she looked in the Christmas dress. She is also much tighter than the Christmas dress when she sinks down on your cock, how is she so wet already?

As it turns out, Miss #8 might be a mind reader when she whispers in your ear. "I've been listening to everything, it all sounds so hot, I was so hoping you would call my number." You feel something hard and phallic thrust into your hand. "If you didn't call my number, I was going to fuck myself silly on that, but I'm glad I don't have to now." You're glad too, there's no way it would have fit in her, given how tight she is right now. From the fugue of her tightness you realize one thing.

"You listened to everything?"

"Mmhmm, fuck yes, this is so much better than just listening though." She's already riding you slowly.

"So, can you tell me who was which number then?"

"Of course silly, we all know who was what number, how else would I lead you to the right rooms? You want me to tell you who was who?"

"Yeah, please?"

"That depends, can you stand up right now?"

"What?"

"Do as I say." Your hands wrap around her waist tightly, and you grunt as you manage to push yourself off the bed. You can hear the smile in her whisper, "Good, now fuck me just like this, make me forget I'm not supposed to tell you who's who, and I just might."

You bend your knees and straighten them again, lightly bouncing her as she clings to your neck and cock. You support her best you can, grabbing her thighs as you work your own, half-squatting and driving up into her each time.

"Yes, just like that, I'm dropping so deep on your cock! Ah fuck!" She squeals and gets even tighter, already rolling over an orgasm. Everything about her is small, even her orgasm, and she's already moaning and whispering in your neck to keep going. "That's only one, keep fucking me, keep fucking— nngh!" You shut her foul mouth up with a second peak. Despite her brazenness, she's easy to please, and like Santa’s sleigh in turbulent air you bump and bounce her through multiple small peaks.

As you move your hands to a more fuck-friendly position, you realize just how petite she is—you could lift her on and off your cock if you wanted to, and now that you have that knowledge, you definitely wanted to. You stop the ride and hold her still, ignoring her whines as you adjust your hands to clasp her waist. She squeaks cutely when you apply firm pressure, but as you start manhandling her up and down your shaft, low sexy moans begin to escape her lips.

"Oh, oh no! How dare you treat an idol like this! Like you own little fuck toy, what will my fans think— Ahh!" Said idol apparently loves it, and she releases a small wave of juices over you shaft. You get more into it, thrusting your hips in time with pulling her down on your cock, fucking her like a cocksleeve. She hangs on to you by the neck, her legs barely able to stay wrapped around your hips as she groans at the delicious friction.

The pressure around your shaft grows with every passing orgasm from her, like she's slowly crushing you between her legs, and the pressure in your core grows too. In her present state she probably is less mind reader and more just feeling your cock throb inside her, but she manages to pull herself closer to you, whimpering into your ear.

"Cum in me, I need to feel it, give it to me!" A few a more strong tugs of her on to your cock, and you find yourself sitting back down on the bed. With the help of gravity you jam the pleading idol on your cock and unload into her. Her shout of surprise immediately dies away into soft grunts as you spew thick cum into her, each burst unbearably hot and gooey in her womb. She does the riding for you now, grinding on you slowly to extract all of your load, cooing as you fill her stocking with heat.

"You still came so much, good boy." She peppers your neck with love bites, her hair tickling your chest as she does so. As the two of you calm down from the session, you decide to catch her off-guard.

"So, why don't you tell me who I've been with?"

"I hope you enjoyed this weekend, hmm?" Irene jokes as you are brought in front of everyone once more.

"Yes, definitely, and I won't even have to write about it," you proudly say.

"That confident? Go ahead then, let's see who you guessed." You take a deep breath and remember what you were told.

"Seulgi—" Irene cuts you off with a jubilant shout.

"Hah! Wrong! I look forward to your story then!"

"What? How is it wrong? The first number is Seulgi! I even recognized her voice!"

"Did you have sex with her?" She fires back.

"S-She rode me and everything!"

"Doesn't count! She rode your face, not your dick! So you're wrong, and have fun writing about this weekend!" Irene cackles and laughs.

"Fine, including you sneaking into my room then?!" you fire back, to a chorus of scandalized shouts.

"Unnie!" "How could you!" "You should have invited me!"

"Shut up! I don't care, include it if you want, but you are going to write it."

"I haven't even mentioned who the others were, how do I know if I'm right?"

"Just leave it up to your readers then, we'll know who’s who of course, but no one else will."

So, who do you think you fucked?

A/N: Those Beautiful Christmas images are too hot not to write about, so I blended it in with that ask about continuing “Reader Feedback” in some form. Hope this is not too confusing, anyways I think I’m being very obvious about who’s who lol, but if you feel like pretending it’s someone else, by all means. Thanks for reading and happy holidays!

#smut #red velvet #irene #seulgi

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hitcbmgc · 10 months

Text

[M] SCENARIO 002;

honestly it’s no surprise that irene would be into anal. but oh my god just thinking of her first time having anal sex with you is so 🥺🥺

you’ve discussed about wanting to try anal sex with her before. that day, you pulled her into your lap and pampered her your usual dose of kisses before bringing it up. she was quite reluctant to the idea of it at first and that’s ok, sharing that her only concern was not being able to fit your large cock :(( but after some reassurance and affirmations, she agrees and is open to trying it

the day comes and she’s lying on her tummy, a pillow stuffed between her thighs wet with your kisses, propping her ass up. her own slick is trailing down her legs and staining the pillow. she already came earlier when you ate her puffy pussy out but this was what she anticipated most. praising her for being such a good girl for you, all spread out and ready to be used, you pamper her neck with kisses before running your fingers down her gorgeous back and inserting a finger in her ass.

shuddering from the foreign feeling, she looks back for any kind of reassurance and in response, you gifted her a kiss.

“see? you’re doing so well baby”

“y/n it feels weird..p-please”

she clenches around your finger. with your free hand, you mold the globes of her ass knowing so well that she likes to be played with. after a few minutes, you removed your finger and gave the puckered hole a loving lick before inserting your tip. she whimpers as the hard tool stretches her out and you can only admire how her hole sucks you in.

“fuck you’re squeezing me joohyun”

she starts to tear up at the overwhelming feeling, feeling so full and stretched.

#red velvet #irene #irene hcs #irene smut #gp #idol #y/n

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d-dalladalla · 2 years

Note

hello author-nim! i just read your a! irene one-shot (that was hot and my breeding kink just skyrocketed skwkefnln sorry) and can i request a! joohyun keeping track on o! reader's heat cycle before she fucks her and breeds her raw?

AHHHH!!!!! Breeding kink go brrrrrrr

She would plan for far in ahead, writing in her phone when you next heat cycle is due after hearing you drop hints constantly about how all you omega friends were getting pregnant.

She wanted it just as bad as you did but was worried about how you felt. But every time the two of your fucked recently you always begged her to knot you, breed you, just fill you up and she always did, but you weren’t in heat so it didn’t happen.

But now she finally had her chance, lining herself up and filling you up until your eyes rolled to the back of your head, drooling as she flipped you onto your back and hiked your thighs up to your chest. No condom, you weren’t on any birth control and the thought of her breeding you was just making her harder.

You were babbling in coherently, moaning and whining as she used your thighs to hold herself up and pumped in and out of you. Her precum alone was filling you up and pouring out, leaking down your legs and onto the bed.

She had her head thrown back, teeth clenched together a she tried to hold back her orgasm, she wanted this to last as long as possible. But you just felt so good, so tight, so warm.

“A-Alpha! I’m gon-gonna cum!” You moaned out, gripping her upper arms as the bed rocked underneath the two of you.

And you clenching down on her cock was enough for her knot to pop into you. She let out a low groan, chest rumbling with a growl as you came all over her cock, she let her knot empty inside you, filling you up to the brim and you stomach swelling as her cum kept flooding into your pussy.

It started to leak out slowly, her cock stretched your tight cunt out so well that there was barely any room for her cum to squeeze out. She lay on top of you, holding you tight against her as she buried her face in your neck, slowly kissing and scenting you slowly.

Her knot deflating and letting herself slowly pull out. Kissing you lips lazily and messily, letting her tongue play with yours.

“God, I love you. Cant wait for you to have my pup.” She mumbled against your lips. Letting her hand lay against you swollen stomach and imagining it was your baby bump.

#this got soft at the end and I like it #Alpha!Irene #Alpha!Red Velvet

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nuoyipeach · 6 months

Text

Second Firsts

Bae Joohyun X Johnny Suh

part 2 of Take A Chance warnings: mature

Standing out in the balcony of their hotel room, Joohyun took in a deep breath of the cold air, smiling as she felt herself relax. For their six months of dating, the couple had decided to take a trip away from the city, and ended up at a ski resort in northern Japan.

Johnny had wanted to try skiing, and Joohyun just wanted to get far away from back home, so this felt like the perfect trip. Ever since her family found out she was dating again, her parents seemed a little wary of her actions, especially when finding out Johnny was a year younger than her. That alone stressed her out, and she was just glad to get far away from all of it.

It was their third day of the five day trip, and as she continued gazing at the snowy landscape and sunset, her smile grew more when a warm body encased her from behind. She let her body relax into his hold, giggling when feeling his lips peck all over her neck and shoulder.

"Makes me happy to see you finally relax." Johnny's voice came out soft and deep, tracing her skin with his nose up to her ear. "I love you."

Joohyun turned to towards him, smiling as their lips hovered close. "I love you too." she gave a quick gentle kiss on his lips. "Thank you for this trip, it's been so peaceful honestly."

"Anything for my lady." Johnny smiled. She sighed happily and leaned back against his body, eyes returning to the view. "There is something else I had for you..." his sudden words caught her attention, but before she could turn to him or say a thing, something appeared before her eyes.

"I want to keep making you happy every single day of my life. I want to be the one behind your smiles and laughs, and maybe some happy tears too. And I want to be the one to hold you when something makes you sad, before I punch it for making you sad. I want to be there to share all the little moments with you, like how you sing when doing your makeup, or talk to me while I'm working, except in person instead of calling, or how you play music so loud in the shower i get the songs stuck in my head too." he let out a chuckle.

Her eyes stayed glued to the ring between his fingers in front of her, though her ears didn't miss a single word he said. Her breathing turned rapid, a lump in her throat preventing any sound coming out of her, her eyes welling with tears.

The hand around her waist tightened. "Marry me, be my wife." he laid a kiss in her neck. "I promise to love you like I already do every second, and probably even more."

Before she could even respond, Johnny gently took her left hand in his own and slipped the band onto her ring finger. Joohyun didn't move the slightest bit as she continued staring at the ring, finally able to let out a sob as the lump in her throat disappeared.

"Shh, it's OK love." Johnny's hands tightened around her again as he hugged her, one hand holding her left one while he kissed her forehead. "Share your sorrows with me."

"Johnny I...." her face was hidden in his neck, and he slowly turned her around allowing her to hug him back while she cried into his chest. "Why..."

"Because I love you."

"Why me..."

He chuckled softly this time. "Because it's you."

She lifted her face off his chest to peek up at him, shaking her head at his answers while a few tears still dripped down her cheeks. He knew what she meant, and as much as he wanted to avoid it for her sake more than his own, he cupped her face and wiped her cheeks as he turned serious.

"I know I won't be your first as you may be mine. But that's no reason to avoid starting a happy life together. I know you feel bad at every step of the way, but don't. Remember, everything that happened ultimately lead you to me. I'd regret it more if I didn't pursue you now than to not have been your first."

She couldn't look away from the ring, even as her now fiancé slept behind her with his arm holding him tight to himself, she stared at the shiny diamond on silver band decorating her hand. A small smile plastered itself onto her face as she started thinking about her future with Johnny, from wedding to honeymoon, to even babies and their retirement.

Slowly, she turned in his hold to look at him. Johnny shifted as she moved, only to hold her the same way once she stopped. This time she faced him, smiling even more at his slight pout that would form on his lips whenever he slept. Unconsciously her hand moved up to his face, her index finger tracing around from his forehead, cheek, to his nose and finally lips. She gently tapped his pout with the tip of her finger, chuckling when his eyebrows furrowed, his hand around her gripping her tighter.

Her hand cupped his cheek, thumb rubbing against his light stubble. "I can't wait for my life with you." she spoke softly, leaving a soft peck on his lips. "I love you so much, Johnny Suh."

>>>

"Chill, it's gonna be fine." Johnny held his fiancé's hand and squeezed it reassuringly, his other hand unbuckled his seat belt then hers. They were at Joohyun's parents house, three days after coming back from their trip, to announce their engagement.

Obviously they knew about their daughter's lover, but Joohyun could always tell the slight disturbance in their faces or tone when bringing up Johnny. Now that they're engaged, she feared how would they react. Not only was she getting engaged within just two years after her divorce, he was also younger than her, and she knew those would cause gossip from people.

With one final sigh, she nodded, smiling as he leaned over for a quick kiss before they both went to the house. She rung the bell, their hands holding throughout the whole time, even when her father opened the door and they greeted him. He gave a simple greet back before letting them in, and they all sat together in the living room.

Her mother set a tray of water on the table, taken aback when Joohyun suddenly grabbed a glass and chugged down the water. Johhny sighed, albeit with a slight laugh. She cleared her throat once she finished, and finally decided to speak up.

Looking directly at her parent, she showed her left hand. "We're engaged, Johnny and I." she smiled nervously, warry of their reactions. Just as she suspected, they were bewildered more than excited about anything. "We're thinking of marrying soon."

"Are you serious?" her mother immediately spoke up, sitting up straight.

This time Joohyun looked confused. "Yes mum? He proposed to me during our trip, and I said yes."

"Isn't it too soon?" her mother spoke again. "You haven't been together as long as you were with-"

"We've known each other long enough." Joohyun quickly cut her mother off, slight anger showing on her face at the near mention of her ex. "We're both adult enough, and we've spoken about everything beforehand regarding our future.'

"Don't you think you're making a rash decision Joohyun?" her father spoke up instead. "What if this was just a rebound?"

"It's not!" Johnny shifted as his fiance suddenly stood up speaking louder than before. "Why can't you just be happy for me moving on with my life?"

"Joohyun we want you to be happy." the elder man spoke again. "You shut off completely after the divorce, wouldn't even come home for any party with the rest of the family. If that's how it went after a five year relationship, what will you do if-"

"If what?" Johnny's sudden deep and serious voice cut off her father, catching all their attention as he sat up straight and glared at him. "Are you suggesting the same thing will happen again? Because I will have you know I don't plan on hurting Joohyun, let alone leave her like that."

"We just want you to think this through properly." her father continued speaking to her, avoiding Johnny's gaze completely. "You're jumping full on into the first relationship you find right after a divorce, with someone younger than you, and after only six months of actually dating? Shouldn't you look around more? Maybe see if there's anything you prefer more than-"

"Oh for God's sake stop talking!" Joohyun yelled again, this time sitting back down with her face in her hands. Frustrated, she drove her hands through her hair back, sighing loudly, eyes scanning around the house before looking back at her parents.

"I'm not twenty anymore to have the time to, in your words, look around more. I want to have a family, I don't want to go on meaningless dates when, without Johnny, I probably wouldn't have moved on as fast as I did. You think I'm making this decision based on six months of dating? No. I want to marry him because at the time I almost gave up love, or finding someone, or starting a family, he took his time breaking me out of that. He waited weeks for me to be able to consider dating anyone, and honestly if it wasn't him, I wouldn't have with anyone else. After everything I've been through, if Johnny hadn't come back into my life that one night, I would never have brought anyone home to introduce to you guys. And that is something I can guarantee."

Before her parents could break out of their awkward silence, she grabbed Johnny's hand and stood up, dragging him along as she left the house and back to his car. He had unlocked it during the storming out, so she was quick to get inside and shut the door. He watched her sit inside in silence, her chest panting heavily, sighing as he entered himself and started the car.

Before he drove though, he looked at her, noticing her cheeks quivering slightly, a sign he learned meant she would cry any minute. Johnny figured it would be best to leave the place first, and drove on for a while before turning into the parking lot of a mall, stopping the car further away from where most people were.

Joohyun hadn't moved once, until he held her cheeks and turned her face to him. Their eyes met, and she could tell what his were saying, and like a button had been pushed she let out the emotions she had been holding in, jumping into his arms as he pulled her closer to him.

"Let it out." he always told her to never hold in anything, especially not with him. Gently, he carried her over the console and onto his lap, her face hidden away in his neck as she cried. "They'll come around. Don't feel down because of what they say Joohyun. You've done so well until now, there's no reason other's doubts should break you."

Johnny held her tight as he pressed his lips on her head, one hand on her hip and the other in her hair. They sat like that for a few minutes, even though her crying had stopped much quicker than she thought herself, she just needed some comfort. Her hand gripped his shirt at his chest as she let out a sigh, feeling calmed feeling his fingers brush through her hair.

"Johnny..." she murmured.

"Yes love?"

She moved her head to look up at him, and he did the same looking down a bit to meet her eyes. "I don't care how many people come to our wedding. I don't care how many people don't think we're a match. I don't care if we have to marry alone. All I care is that it's you I'm marrying." Her hand moved off his chest and up to cup his cheek.

Johnny smiled down at her, his hands tightening around her more as he dipped his head to leave a soft kiss on her lips.

"If it was that bad, I'd elope with you Joohyun, because as long as we're both in for it, nothing's gonna stop me being your husband."

Unlike her parents, Joohyun's friends were immediately happy for her. Many high pitched screams from the girls who threw themselves at her resonating through her apartment, while the guys got up jumping in joy cheering loudly. The only thing that stopped their outburst was when the infant in Taeyong's hands started crying at the sudden reactions, and they quickly stopped trying to calm her first, laughing throughout.

Joohyun was glad they were all in for it. There were some concerns and doubts from them in the beginning, but after meeting and spending more time with Johnny, they knew he was the one. Taeil even noted on how the younger man would look at her, confident when saying "if that's not a lovestruck man I don't know what is", and sure enough he was right.

While her friends continued celebrating after calming the infant, Johnny sat staring at Joohyun with a proud smile on his face as she hugged everyone. He wasn't about to say it out just yet, but seeing her happy and smiling turned something in him. He meant every word when he said he wants to be there to make her happy, because in turn it made him even happier.

As they reached her apartment later that night, Johnny followed her inside like their new normal, and crashed onto her couch. Joohyun shook her head at him as she put her things away before joining, settling herself against his chest while her hand traced over his shirt. A smile crept onto his lips while his hand came around her, holding her body tight to himself as she let out a relaxed sigh.

"Johnny."

"Yes my love?"

"What made you decide to propose?"

Her sudden question caught him off guard, but he had an answer ready since the day he decided.

"Our fourth month, we were walking around the forest park. At that point I knew I wanted to be with you forever, but that day specifically, I was staring at you while you smiled at this baby further away. Your smile, it was genuine and full of love and adoration... And it was a smile that got me going, that made me want to protect you from the world, to make you happy every single day so that I can feel happy too."

His hand sneaked in under her shirt, rubbing her lower back bare. "I knew you were still healing, but I was so excited that I ended up buying the ring right after that. I didn't have a set plan when or how I was gonna propose, so I kept it with me every second of the continuing days. That evening on the balcony, I was watching you when you stood there, and I couldn't think of any reason you'd say no or I'd retract, so on impulse... I proposed."

He looked down at her, relieved seeing her giggling softly at his answer. "You're really one of a kind." she cupped his cheek and kissed him, failing to stop when his free hand held the back of head from moving out as Johnny started deepening their kiss. On instinct Joohyun straddled him without once breaking their kiss, feeling his hand squeeze her hips while the other tangled fingers through her hair.

With her arms around his neck, she slowly moved her hips, causing him to moan into her mouth. "You'll be the death... of me." he pulled away to speak before attaching his lips to her neck, kissing, biting and sucking on her skin as Joohyun continued grinding her hips against him. She giggled when feeling his teeth sink into her skin, pulling him off to meet his hazy eyes.

With her eyes she hinted him to go to her bedroom, and he immediately complied as he got up carrying her and headed in the direction. Instead of dropping her on her bed though, Johnny sat down as they started to kiss again, her hands tugging his shirt as they travelled inside and up his body.

His lips moved down her jaw, neck and finally in the crook of her neck as she craned her head back giving him space to sink his teeth in, causing her to wince. Gently she pushed him, and pulled his shirt off over his head before pushing him down against the mattress. Johnny could only smile at her, causing her to smile back as she traced her hands down his body until his belt and started to undo the buckle.

"I almost thought you were waiting until our honeymoon night." he let out a breathy laugh, his eyes landing on her body as she undid her blouse and threw it aside. Hearing his words, her face suddenly changed, and she balanced herself above him with her hands on either side of his head, staring into him with soft eyes.

"I'm sorry..." she lowered and laid a kiss on his lips. "I wasn't waiting for anything." she kissed his cheek next. "I never knew when the perfect time would be." she kissed his jaw. "I just suddenly had the need for you." she rested her forehead against his, sighing when feeling his hands grab and massage her hips.

"I love you Joohyun." Johnny spoke up, pulling her down so their chests pressed together as his arms hugged her tight. "I would wait how ever long it took you. I know I'm not your first, but I'm happier than ever knowing I'll be your forever."

>>>

The night before her wedding, Joohyun couldn't sleep. She shifted around in her soon to be husband's arms, trying her best to not wake him up though unable to rest. A fear instilled in her now, if this is how she feels night before, how would she behave during the ceremony?

"Baby..." she heard Johnny's groggy voice mumble. "It's alright. You'll be fine." his arms pulled her closer and over so her head rested against his chest, one hand hugging her while the other threaded through her scalp.

"I can't sleep..." she whispered, her hand tracing circles on his arm.

"It's OK." he laid a sleepy kiss on her head. "Just relax, don't think too much about anything right now. Focus on something here."

And she did. With her ear pressed against his chest, Joohyun ended up listening to the sound of his heart, the way it sped up slightly when she hugged him, and how it soon slowed down when he fell back asleep. It calmed her, and reassured her that their connection was stronger than ever.

Joohyun wasn't surprised when her side of the hall had half the people from her first wedding. She didn't invite as many people anyways, yet some of the ones she did didn't show up, and even though she knew why she was glad to see her friends cheer throughout the ceremony.

Her parents had caved in and accepted their marriage, though they remained a little silent throughout everything. She didn't care, it was better than wrong words spilling out here and there. As she stood in front of Johnny, the only thing she cared about was the vows she had written for him, the new life she was about to start with him, and the man himself.

The way smiled at her throughout the officiant speaking, the way he winked at her trying to get her flustered, the way he stared at her with so much love and attention as she spoke her vows, and the way he spoke himself saying his own for her.

Everything about him was perfect.

The guest minimised more as the wedding party moved to the hotel bar, but it was just as the couple had planned as they partied away with their friends and close families. Johnny as always sat aside at the private, watching with a smile at his now wife dance with her friends. His cousins urged him in as they danced too, but he rejected saying he'd rather rest.

"Wow, how did someone energetic like her end up with a bore like you?" one of his cousin's joked, to which he laughed shrugging.

"I guess she couldn't resist my charm." his eyes fell on his wife, suddenly noticing her still expression as her eyes remained on the other side of the hotel hall, where the open bar was. Worried he quickly got up and walked over, hand around her waist getting her attentio. "What's wrong love?"

Joohyun bit her lower lip, unable to think up an answer. Her hands simply went up to his suit and played with the edges, before she snaked her hands under it and around his torso, pulling herself into his chest. Johnny didn't resist and allowed her to relax in his arms, laying a soft kiss on top of her head.

"He's at the bar... and he saw me."

Johnny's eyes peeked slightly, and if his memory served him right from the photo Yuta had shown him, he could see his wife's ex-husband sitting at the open bar, eyes glued on the couple. How this man ended up at the same location as their wedding was beyond him, but he knew the last thing anyone present needed was for things to go south.

He looked around their wedding party, thankful her parents hadn't seen him as they conversed with some of the elderly from his side, and her friends were busy enjoying themselves to notice someone sitting that far. Johnny knew that, despite hesitant about their relationship, they shared the same burning hatred for the man and would not hold back if they saw him around her.

"Dance with me, my wife." he whispered into Joohyun's ear, causing her to look up at him as he smiled at her. She felt all her worries wash away as she smiled back with a nod, and they started swaying with each other, eyes never breaking contact as they dripped with love.

"I love you Johnny." she suddenly said aloud. "I know I say this a lot, but thank you for everything, for loving me the way you do."

He smiled, lowering himself for a kiss, during which he didn't miss the opportunity to steal a glance at Donghae, smirking to himself.

Who cares he wasn't her first love or marriage, in the end he won the amazing woman as his wife, and he intended on keeping her forever.

>>>

so I just felt like writing on smthg to the request heh, hope you enjoyed it!

#nct #nct 127 #red velvet #kpop fanfic #nctvelvet #fluff #johnny suh #johnny seo #seo youngho #irene bae #red velvet fic #nct fic #nct johnny #red velvet irene #bae joohyun #marriage au

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kaepop-trash · 3 years

Note

i love unintended consequences and all those little snippets you’ve written for it 🥺 i hope it’s not too much to ask but i would really like to see how johnny would pamper her when she’s pregnant/deal with the pregnancy side effects and him as a dad 🧸no pressure tho, stay safe and drink lots of water!

I loved this ask so much because I think most people feel nervous talking about the more unsavoury parts of pregnancy. I've heard people talk about how terrible some stuff was, including the decisions that should be made. I always write keeping in mind that this is a predominantly young audience and if I'm going to write for them, I might as well try to give a more honest, mature perspective on these things. Thanks for letting me explore this anon!

You didn't mention it so I kept this more fluffy and didn't add any smut.🙈

I'd gladly write more of this anytime.

WC: 2.5k

___

(Y/N) got up from the couch immediately when Sooyoung came and stood in front of her. It was Johnny who grabbed Sooyoung's arm before she could, helping her sit down comfortably. She gave him a grateful smile before turning to (Y/N).

"I can't believe I'm having twins." She sighed, grinning nonetheless.

"You definitely look like you're having twins." She looked down at the space between them, Sooyoung's belly bigger than what Joohyun's had been at eight months.

"I feel like it too." She mumbled, turning to Johnny, "Have you seen my husband?" She asked.

"He's speaking to your doctor on the phone, trying to get a room. Should I go get him?" Johnny asked dutifully, already getting out of his seat. Sooyoung smiled in a way that (Y/N) could distinguish, but Johnny just cluelessly waited.

"No, that's okay, Johnny. I'm sure he'll find his way back. Why are you so nervous?" She chuckled, grinning wider when Johnny fumbled.

"You're about to go into a room to give birth to two children simultaneously. I don't know why you aren't nervous." He gave her an uncomfortable smile, rubbing the back of his neck when both (Y/N) and Sooyoung laughed.

"I've been having contractions for 16 hours now. The only thing I want right now is for them to just come out." Sooyoung groaned as another one hit her, reaching for the paper cup in (Y/N)'s hand with the now practically melted ice chips.

"I'll go see where Mark went with the ice." Johnny eyed the cup. "(Y/N) will be here with you." He pointed at his own wife, giving her a serious nod before walking away.

Sooyoung turned to (Y/N) with the same smile as earlier. "He's very sweet." She grinned.

(Y/N) gasped as a joke, putting a hand over her mouth. "It took you seven years to realise that? Motherhood is changing you already." She laughed when Sooyoung shoved her shoulder with her own.

"I've always known it obviously. Do you think I would have let you marry just anyone?" Sooyoung scoffed. "What I mean is, he's being very sweet about this." She pointed at her belly. "Makes me wonder why you haven't thought about it yet. You've always wanted kids." Sooyoung said a little slowly, trying to avoid her gaze.

"We've talked about it obviously." (Y/N) looked away, "We've talked about it a lot." She blushed, thinking back to all the “talking” they did.

"But?" Sooyoung questioned. "Is he scared or something?" She furrowed her brows.

(Y/N) scoffed, "It's not him.” She laughed, pushing her hair back. There was a pause as (Y/N) tried to put into words a sentiment she had been holding close to her chest for a long time now. "I think I need to quit my job before I think about having a child. It's–" She winced, "I don't want somebody else to raise my child while I'm at a job I hate. You know how I will about that.” She paused again, biting down on her tongue.

"So quit." Sooyoung shrugged, rolling her eyes when (Y/N) looked up at her with a tired look.

"It's not that simple." She fidgeted with her hands.

"Yes it is." Sooyoung put a gentle palm on her best friend's hand, "You already know what you want. You're afraid to stop working because you've done it your entire life and because it’s all you’ve seen growing up. But it's fine, we all have to move on from old things to make way for new ones."

"It's not just that." She sighed

"(Y/N)." Sooyoung's voice was stern, "I think at this point it's a little unfair to Johnny if you still think that you need to be a contributor for him to respect you. I don't say anything because I know that after everything you struggled through, being successful was important to you. I know." Sooyoung paused, the tightening grip on (Y/N)'s arm signalling another contraction.

(Y/N) checked her watch, "That was 10 minutes, you're almost there." She encouraged her through the pain, rubbing her back soothingly. Once it passed, she sat back with a sigh.

"Just quit. Spend a year with your husband, think about kids then. If later you think different, you're qualified enough to find a job anywhere. Make mistakes, (Y/N). But don't just sit like a lame duck. Life's too short to waste it between decisions." She spoke as the pain slowly subsided.

"You're already gaining your mom wisdom." (Y/N) smiled endearingly at her, grateful for having the most loving people around her.

"It's all the reflection I do between the late night tossing I do because my stomach is too big." Sooyoung groaned as another contraction hit her already.

Mark finally stumbled from the corner with a paper cup in his hands, curse words spilling out of his mouth as he approached till a passing nurse clicked her tongue at him.

___

“I want one.” She sighed, putting her head on top of the finally cooing baby. For an hour now, Johnny and (Y/N) tried their best to get the twins to stop crying.

Sooyoung and Doyoung finally went to bed a while back and Mark lay sprawled on the couch, passed out after his turn to watch the new members of the family.

"Yeah?" Johnny whispered, lips tugging. He rocked the other one in his arm, positively gleaming. It made her heart flutter.

She sighed a little deeper, hugging the baby closer to her chest, “Yeah.” She nodded. “But–” She stopped to lick her lips, feeling like she was shielding herself with the child. Johnny’s smile fell and she shortened her hesitation. “I want to quit my job.” She took a deep breath to help find courage, “My mom was always working and I love her, I really do. She’s taught me how to survive by myself, how to prioritise my worth over everything.” She paused when the baby in her lap cooed, gazing down to look at her with a smile. “But when I look back, my fondest memories involve Sooyoung’s mom. She taught me how to cook, how to care, how to be compassionate.” She felt a lump building in her throat.

“Sooyoung’s mom was the person I called when I broke my arm, she was the one who advised me when I had my first heartbreak.” (Y/N) closed her eyes, “I love my mom, I want to give my children her values.” She took a shaking breath, terrified of her own words. “But I want to be the person my children come to when they want comfort.” She hugged Sooyoung's daughter, thinking about the loving life she would have.

“You don’t have to justify yourself, (Y/N).” Johnny said tenderly. “But I appreciate that you wanted to share that. I know you don’t talk about your parents. You carry so much by yourself.” He slid closer to her, resting the baby down on his lap. “I know you never make a decision without beating yourself about it constantly. If you think it’s what you have to do, I’m always going to have your back. That’s marriage.” Johnny looked down when the baby reached his arms out, laughing and picking him back up to rock again.

“Okay.” She nodded, “I’m going back home and quitting. We can talk about this properly then.” She felt overwhelmed.

Johnny bit down on his lip, looking at his friend’s son and then covering his ears, “We can start trying now though, right?” He wiggled his brows.

She sat back and laughed as quietly as she could, “I don’t think he can understand you.”

“Let’s not risk it with Doyoung and Sooyoung’s kids, yeah? Doyoung nags and Sooyoung scares me.” He sounded serious.

She laughed a little more, earning a babble of approval from her friend’s newborn daughter.

___

Johnny woke up at the sound of the bathroom door shutting. He slipped out of bed, noting the time on the bedside clock and sighing. He rubbed the sleep out of his house and ventured to the kitchen.

He knocked on the bathroom door softly, smiling when he heard a grunt.

"Just leave me alone." He heard her say softly. Johnny grinned, opening the door.

"But you're so sexy when you're heaving." He spoke as he entered, frowning when he saw her on the floor trying to keep her head up, dizzy again. Johnny put the glass of gingerale he came with down on the counter, wordlessly coming to sit behind her. He pulled her between his legs, rubbing soothing circles on her back. She rested her head back on his chest and Johnny tried to pat off the sweat on her forehead.

She gave him a grateful smile, one he mirrored despite her eyes being closed.

"I'm so tired of this." She sighed, "Does that make me a bad human being?" She whispered reluctantly.

Johnny clicked his tongue, "It makes you human." He pushed more of her hair back, just in time for her face to contort as he leaned over the toilet again.

"Five more months, baby." Johnny tried to lighten the mood, chuckling when she sat back and elbowed his side.

"Don't make me hit you." She warned, earning a quick okay from him.

They sat there for a while, when she looked like she wasn't going to puke again he poked her cheek.

"You want to take a shower? It always makes you feel better." He offered. She gave him an exhausted nod.

"I'll do it, you go back to bed. You have work tomorrow." She started moving away from him but he stopped her, turning her gently to face him.

"We're in this together, (Y/N)." He reminded her, hand going to her slowly emerging belly.

"It's just a shower." Despite her words, her eyes were drenched with gratitude.

"It's just work." He countered, slowly helping her get off the floor. She tugged on his arm, making him look down.

"You're perfect, do you know that?" She told him with glistening eyes.

"A few hours ago you were blaming me for knocking you up." He tapped his chin.

"I'm more changeable than usual lately." She shrugged.

___

Johnny grabbed (Y/N)’s arm to help her sit down. It was one of the less comfortable days of her second trimester and the long car ride it took to get to the vacation home wasn't helping.

"Wow," Yuta laughed, sitting back on the couch. "Look at how big you've gotten. There's a whole baby cooking inside you." He sounded equal parts amazed and amused.

"Shut up." She frowned, "If you choose now out of all possible moments to talk about the magic of childbirth I will make you rub my swollen feet." She threatened him, making Yuta lift his arms in surrender.

As she said that, she turned over to put her feet in her husband's lap. Johnny didn't need to look down to start rubbing them.

"What did he do?" Yuta laughed, pointed at Johnny.

"Get me pregnant, for starters." She crossed her arms in front of her chest. "And it's already huge because of his giant genes too." She tried to re-adjust herself at the new angle. Johnny noticed her fumbling, reaching for a pillow and putting it behind her back.

"You love me." Johnny kissed the air between them. "She loves me." He turned to Yuta,earning a scoff from both of them.

The doorbell rang and Mark spoke from the kitchen saying he'd get it.

"Oh my god, (Y/N)" Jungwoo said when he walked into the room with Yeri in tow. "You've become huge!" He gasped, pouting when Yeri smacked his arm.

(Y/N) turned to Johnny, an annoyed pout already dancing on her lips. "I'm starting to believe that this weekend getaway was a bad idea." Johnny laughed, reaching one hand over to squeeze her hand.

"Haechan isn't even here yet." Johnny reminded her, eyes turning up with delight when she groaned.

"If one more person talks about how big I am, I'll sit on them." She warned.

Johnny grinned and almost immediately she regretted her words.

"Come here, big girl." He extended his arms and beckoned her to him. She threw a pillow with an annoyed whine.

___

(Y/N) woke up out of habit more than anything else, eyeing the clock on the table first and then realising that the monitor was uncharacteristically silent for what was feeding time. When she turned over, she smiled and understood why.

Before she even reached the door, she could hear Johnny cooing at their newborn. A tired smile of unabashed pride rising on her lips.

"You're going to get so big and strong." Johnny cooed, once she came to the door, (Y/N) saw him dangling a toy over the child's outreached arms. "You're already such a good baby, aren't you? You get that from your mom I can tell." Johnny sniggered to himself, "You don't to cry or fuss." He leaned down to kiss their forehead.

(Y/N) leaned against the doorframe, watching the exchange with an amused smile.

"But you're always reaching for your mom. Always looking around for her. You get that from me." There was a glow of pride in his eyes. "We're both a little lost without your mum around, aren't we?" He rocked up and down till he heard a small giggle, a short laugh leaving his lips at the sound.

Johnny put the toy down to reach for the bottle on the table and (Y/N)'s heart squeezed with more love for her incredibly thoughtful husband.

"I can't believe you're my little baby." Johnny grinned as eager, tiny hands reached out to grab the bottle. "I'm going to teach you how to throw a ball and give you your first beer someday. Maybe we can both learn how to make your mom's cake." Johnny laughed to himself, "I'm going to love you so much." Johnny scrunched his nose when a little hand wrapped around his finger. "I'm the luckiest man in the world and you're proof, you know that?" He whispered, eyes glowing despite the dim light in the room. "All this because your mom thought I was a hairy ghost." He giggled to himself.

"You need to stop talking about that." She finally gave in, speaking up. Johnny looked up, wide eyed before grinning when he saw her. "Plus, it was a witch."

Johnny laughed, tired but content. "Just know now. I'm going to tell our kids this till they're sick of this story. Then I'm going to tell their friends and their spouses. Even the other's kids are going to grow up listening to our story." Johnny stuck his tongue out at her before giving her a love struck smile as she came closer, "We're my favourite story." He leaned over to kiss her forehead as she stood in front of her husband and child.

"I thought that was Iron Man?" She raised a brow.

"Oh damn." Johnny winced, "Tough choice." He clicked his tongue. She rolled her eyes at him, reaching down to tickle the baby's belly.

___

Send me an ask about a character from one of my fics in a scenario and I’ll write a drabble.

Character from: Unintended Consequences

#unintended consequences #miscellaneous #johnny scenarios #johnny #nct johnny #johnny x reader #johnny au #nct #nct 127 #nct scenarios #kpop scenarios #johnny imagines #johnny drabble #nct imagines #nct drabbles #fluff

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wincore · 4 years

Text

runway (m) | jung yoonoh

pairing: model!jaehyun x fashion designer!reader

words: 18.7k

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

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

warnings: sexual content, mentions of anxiety

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There’s some nods and sounds of affirmation.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

_jeongjaehyun:

My manager told me it was good publicity

But I could take it down for you

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You don’t make the same mistake twice.

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

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

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

Do you love it?

Of course you fucking do.

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

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

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

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

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

You. You’re a big deal.

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

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

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

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

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

D-1. Same feeling, new season.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“My job? What do you think, genius?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The buzzing reaches a peak before everything is drowned out.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Afterparties are not your thing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You could have, too.

No way. You tell yourself that’s ridiculous.

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

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

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

Afterparties are not your thing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Uh, hi,” he greets.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You freeze.

“New York?” you manage to squeak.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What are you not telling me, Joohyun?”

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

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

“Yes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You were not one of them.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“(name)?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sarcastic. Very nice.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s not what I—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“(name)! Come quick!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your shoulders droop. Amateur. New. Unprofessional.

“Oh.”

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

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

Secrets.

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

And perfection is your dear old friend.

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

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

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

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

“No,” you deny. “Just curious.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re just so easy to work up.”

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

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

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

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

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

Jaehyun raises an eyebrow.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sour.”

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

“Is- Is something wrong?”

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

“You’re doing two different concepts today?”

“Three, actually.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Something sets into motion, subtle but sharp.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s me, Jaehyun.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

You trail off, trying to get yourself to breathe.

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But he still came all the way here.

“Aren’t you a little…overdressed?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You…have someplace to be then?”

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

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

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

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

Or is it him?

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

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

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

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

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

“Literally zero times.”

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

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

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

“Dickhead,” you hiss.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jaehyun nods, something akin to agreement in his response.

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

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

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

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

“Oh? How so?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your eyes flutter over his face once again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Your collar’s…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There’s something definitely wrong with you, love.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Afterparties are still not your thing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“(name), thank you.”

Success feels good. Gratitude feels even better.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You know I like you, right?”

You turn around. “What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hyung—”

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

“Hyung. I’m hanging up.”

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

“That—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And a little bit about me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you want me saying something cheesy?”

“Absolutely not.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I certainly hope so.”

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

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

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rvmmm21 · 3 years

Note

DO YOU WRITE SOMNO?? CAN YOU WRITE YERENE SOMNO WITH TOP YERI PLEASE😀 IF NOT GP THEN CAN SHE WEAR A STRAP-ON. THANK YOU AUTHORNIM I LOVE YOUR WORK PLEASE KEEP WRITING😊 IM SORRY IM NOT YELLING MY KEYBOARD IS JUST BROK

somno pioneer anon, you’re doing all the keyboard yelling i was doing in my head trying to get this into words.

tw: mild somnophilia, inebriated sex, dubious consent.

– – – – –

The milky glow of moonlight illuminates Yerim’s smile like a flame in the dark.

Bae Joohyun is a completely different person through the haze of delirium.

Pliant, docile… obedient. The perfect listener, whether she’s aware of it or not. She’s such a good girl.

It’s never like she plans these things out in advance. They just… happen. Plus, business galas, work events and surprise birthday parties for friends are just things you get used to when you’re dating someone like Joohyun.

Kim Yerim is well aware of that.

Tonight was business as usual… or rather, party as usual. Naive, impressionable Yerim didn’t think twice about accepting drink after drink, only because they came from Joohyun’s hand. The two ended up throwing back shots until they found themselves stumbling through their front door hours after midnight, clumsily undressing each other until they’re left in their underwear, with Joohyun drunkenly throwing on a loose pajama top and calling it a night.

Soft breathing fills Yerim’s ears, making the struggle to conceal the tent in her shorts from watching Joohyun’s unconscious form even harder. Heavy intoxication has a… persistent effect on her.

Ah, fuck it.

She crawls onto the foot of the mattress, starting slow— by her standards. Every time is special, even if Joohyun is barely going to remember anything in the morning. She keeps this in mind as she kisses down her neck, down the creamsicle slope of her shoulder, savouring the sight of her sleeping girlfriend who’s now beginning to stir lightly.

On her stomach, Joohyun squirms comfortably into the jersey bed sheets when Yerim comes to press her weight on her back. The younger girl is such a gentle lover, always answering any weak little protests that leave sleep-ridden lips, any slurred questions or any muffled confusion with a ginger kiss and a “shh, unnie, be a good girl for me.”

At some point Joohyun tries to pull away when the stimulation gets too much. Small hands delicately fist into the cool material, the older woman writhing weakly, clouded with the urge to close her eyes and drift off but unable to. Because of the reluctantly growing ache between her thighs, because Yerim won’t let her. The younger girl has propped herself up on her elbows, strong forearms caging in on either side of Joohyun’s upper body, giving her nowhere to go.

The latter involuntarily whines when a nose nudges into the nape of her neck and takes a deep breath. “Go back to sleep, Hyunnie,” she whispers, breath fanning over the shell of a scarlet ear.

To her surprise, Joohyun nods, rather pathetically actually, and Yerim sees her visibly relax. The relief is short-lived, however, when the thin material of the t-shirt she’s sleeping in is lifted and folded up to expose more skin.

No, wait. Not now, she’s really— “sleepy, Yerimie, please… unnie’s tired…” Not to mention, still sore from last night.

But she hasn’t mumbled ‘no’, so nothing is going to stop. Even if her body and mind aren’t working in tandem, her dear, sweet Yerim will fix that for her. She clamps her fingers down on her lover’s neck and just like a little kitten getting picked up by its scruff, Joohyun just goes limp.

“That’s a good girl, baby. You don’t resist me.”

The praise has Joohyun’s heart inexplicably thrilled into a staccato. Unable to see the way Yerim sports a victorious smirk above her, she only sighs when the pressure on the back of her right thigh eases, the tightening feeling replaced by fingers stroking the mottled lilac they created on porcelain skin.

Yerim lets out a low chuckle when she tugs the crotch of Joohyun’s panties to the side, lithe fingers dragging over her moistening slit. The woman under her holds back an instinctual whimper as two fingers slip in, coaxing more slick out of her. Her eyes screw shut, trying to block it out, but it does nothing to blanket the sickening pleasure of being manhandled— taken advantage of— while she’s barely conscious to fight it.

Fight it. Right. Is she doing a good job? Struggling so weakly, begging her girlfriend in broken little whimpers while her hips push back against the rhythmic pumping into her dripping heat. It’s beginning to look like she’s fighting her own instincts harder than she’s fighting Yerim.

And the latter can tell. She always can. “Shh, you’re doing so well,” she coos, deftly reaching into her underwear to free her own arousal, hard and bobbing gently in the cool air, twitching with anticipation to sink into something warm and unresisting. “I’m going to make you feel really good now, Hyunnie. Do you want that?”

Joohyun barely manages an affirmative before the head of Yerim’s cock is stroking over her folds, rubbing up and down. A breath clogs in her throat when something bigger than fingers sink into her fully, triggering her own hips to roll back, mindlessly seeking more. Her thrusts are deliciously oppressive, and Joohyun is all too quick in shifting her weight so Yerim can slip a hand under her to draw tight little circles into her swollen bud while she fucks her.

The soft grunts Joohyun hears above her tells her she’s giving her Yerimie everything she wants, but she’s too focused on her own inevitable climax, pawing uselessly at the sheets and wrinkling the fabric. Finally, her spine arches back to drive more of Yerim into her as she cums, drowsy whines filling the room.

“Gosh, Hyun, you’re amazing.” The clench of Joohyun’s walls around her cock has Yerim catching her bottom lip between her teeth. It’s almost enough to make her cum, too. Almost.

It’s adorable how sensitive Joohyun is when she’s sleepy, how fast she is to hit her peak, how thrillingly easy it is to overstimulate her. And perhaps her favourite part about doing her this way is watching the conscious dread flood into those eyes when she realises it’s far from over.

#red velvet #yerene #g!p yeri #baby somnophilia #like baby asprin #cock is such a nice word actually.#super tame.#i will exploit the crap out of it.#lynenspray gp inspired.#can you tell????#can't believe smut happened.#we all wonder who requested this #yerim's stamina has to by lynenspray approved.

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souljoon · 4 years

Text

Like a fool (pt.1)

pairing: teacher!jungkook x cafe owner!reader word count: 2k genre: fluff, smut, ex lovers au warnings: sexual content, slight dom!jungkook, sub!reader, unprotected sex (stay safe loves!)

synopsis: Everyone in the neighborhood knows you and Jungkook will inevitably end up in a wedlock despite the complicated status of your on-and-off relationship. While you want to keep a civil relationship with him, Jungkook learned not to care about labels long ago since the first time you two broke up. Whatever you’d say, he intends to keep his place in your heart taken for the rest of your life.

~~~

“Your beau is here,” Jimin prompted behind you.

Without turning in his direction, your attention to the carrot cake remaining glued to the carrot cake you were currently frosting about.

At this point, you wouldn’t even be surprised to see Jungkook on the opposite side of your bed in the morning. He seems to find it amusing to see you evidently pissed whenever he’s around. How couldn’t you? He not only takes over Jimin’s job but he often causes a scene with the customers in the cafe—which, to fuel more of your unspoken frustration, are students from the nearby community college.

You couldn’t admit how the attention he was getting from people of different gender identities still bothers you despite the mutual decision to call the engagement off. You understand your ex-fiance is a very attractive man. And his charisma could probably stir attraction from married women regardless of their age.

Over the course of six years of a complicated relationship with him, you two had already been in two break ups in college, citing his laid back self in college and your endless insecurities that urged you to try to get away from him, from the spell he had on you.

While you decided to pursue your dream to start your own cafe business post-graduation, Jungkook surprisingly landed on a teaching job in Jung-do High School which is also located in the same neighborhood two years ago.

Footsteps are, again, back in the kitchen. “He just wore an apron. So I’m guessing he’s here until the shop closes.” It was Jimin, informing you yet again as if it was part of his job to report Jungkook’s every move to you.

This time, you sweep a brief glance behind. “Don’t let the counter vacant, Chim.” You say, cleaning up the cake board as a finishing touch to your masterpiece.

“He took over the counter, _____. How am I supposed to make him go away when he’s our own human advertisement. He’s attracting more customers!”

With a glare darted to his direction, you suggest, “Then I guess I should replace you with him, instead?”

Jimin visibly sulked, not really wanting to argue with you—his boss. “Fine!”

Six months. That’s how long you’ve been single since. Sure he had you wrapped around his fingers back then. But you wanted to prove to him and to yourself that you can live without him. However, it’s too impossible to keep up with it when he freely deems himself welcome wherever you are, maintaining his act of indifference toward the real score between you.

Intending to place the cake in the display, you finally went out of the kitchen-- ironically, just in time to run into him. Jungkook being the shameless ex-boyfriend that he is, took the cake in your hands.

He was wearing a gym class outfit— a pair of black adidas sweatpants, and a plain, white shirt over a black hoodie. If only you were not trying to stay as far as possible away from him, you’ll probably tease him about his own dress code. He doesn’t look like he just got out of his class as the teacher. He looked like he just went out of bed before he came here.

“Aren’t you supposed to be home?” You ask from behind him.

“I’m bored,” he simply replied.

“What do you mean you’re bored? Haven’t you just got off work?”

He spun around, startling you when you came face to face with him. If you couldn’t properly see his entire face before, you do now much to your annoyance.

He sighs. “I did. Look, I’m just helping Jimin-hyung out here. I won’t bother you, I swear.”

“You don’t have to because you’re not my employee, Kook.”

“Well, I could use some part time if you’re hiring.” Jungkook shrugs.

Here we go, again.

Your eyes narrowed to which roused him to raise his hands up defensively.

“Jagiya—”

“Lovebirds,” Jimin suddenly interrupts.

“What?!” You both snapped back at Jimin’s direction.

“Whoa, tone it down— you two. Restroom is right there in case you need to release the sexual tension. It’s getting intense out here.” He jests, making a shooing motions with his hands.

Jungkook wasted no more time and took it as his cue to grab your wrist, dragging you with him as he navigated the way past the kitchen into the storage room.

A temporary relief washes through you when Jungkook brought you in this enclosed, rather safe space instead of the restroom. However, dread slowly consumes your whole being when you hear the familiar sound of the knob locking.

Jungkook pivoted back, facing you. “Let’s talk here.”

Your eyes lingered down where his hand maintained his grasp around your wrist. “Why? There’s nothing else to talk about.”

“For the umpteenth time, I saw the landlord across the street like he was waiting for someone,”

You look up, quirking up an eyebrow at his sudden shot of a subject relating to Seokjin. “What’s your point?”

“I don’t trust him.” He deduces, childishly.

“What do you want me to do, find another leasing property? This shouldn’t concern you in the first place. You never once heard anything from me about Joohyun.” You mentally cursed, unable to stop yourself from mentioning the name of the woman he was seen in a restaurant a week ago.

“What’s Joohyun got anything to do with this?”

You scoff. “You know what, I don’t need to answer that. We’re not together anymore so it’s none of my business.”

Jungkook seized your attempt to leave, latching onto your arm just in time. As he pulls you back, you were met with the subtle amusement plastered obnoxiously on his face.

“We’re not done here, baby. So... Joohyun, really? My colleague?” A laugh slips out of him, seemingly pleased. You, on the other hand, felt insulted on his take of your serious remark. Your blood started rising up. So the rumors aren’t true?

You jerked away. Well... tried to, because your hand stayed locked around his firm grip. “Let me go, I need to go back to the kitchen.”

You stepped back when he abruptly inched forward. You were puzzled for a second, but when your back touched the surface of the door, you knew you fell from his trap as he steadied himself with his palms pressed flat above your head. You turned your face away, avoiding his heated gaze. But the gesture only gave Jungkook a room to nestle his head on the exposed skin of your neck.

The moment you felt his warm lips touch your skin, you squeezed your eyes shut. “You’ve been pretty good at keeping a safe distance from me, baby. You have no idea how much I fucking miss you, missed keeping you all to myself like this.” He expresses in a thick, sultry tone.

You shake your head, knowing full well what he meant. “We c-cant, Jimin is--”

“--not here.” He finishes, pressing his lower body against yours and teasing your sweet spot with a gentle suck. The bulge on his mid-region was enough to make your panties wet instantaneously and your body heats up too quickly.

“Jungkook,” his name slips out of your mouth.

“Please tell me you’re still in birth control.” He desperately murmurs against your skin on the curve of your neck.

You frantically bobbed your head, lost at the hot trail of kisses he’s leaving on your skin.

With an eager pull of the strings on his nape and back, he rids the apron off of his front followed by a swift pull of his sweatpants with his boxers, just enough to release his hard member.

Your mouth instantaneously watered at the sight of the maddeningly pink head and aroused length, thick and hard just the way you remembered it the last time Jungkook fucked you. It happened in his car three months ago. You were too intoxicated then to control yourself from jumping up into his lap as he drove you back to your apartment. To keep your pride intact, you tried to steer clear from repeating the same mistake again. Not when you’re not officially back together.

Right now, you’re too sexually neglected to care about anything.

“I want you in my mouth,” you beg, not believing you sounded incredibly hasty than you actually have estimated.

He swats your hand off when he sensed your hand extending towards his crotch, “I’d love to fuck your mouth baby, but we don’t have that much time. I need to be inside your pussy,” You felt his palms scooping you up through your butt, sandwiching you between his body and the door. Your legs automatically weaving around his hips to steady yourself.

Then pushes your underwear aside, “This is probably the only reason why I love you wearing skirts. Easy access—fuck baby, so tight.” He barely sank his cock in, yet you could already feel the sting of your walls as they stretch around him.

Your hand flew to the back of head, eager to bury your fingers beneath his curly locks.

Just as you part your mouth to speak to encourage more his entrance, he suddenly propels his hips forward, pushing his dick to the hilt which roused a cry from you.

“Fucking tight! I’m gonna break you so much you won’t ever forget about me. You understand, darling?”

“Yes, yes, please fuck me!” You cried out, reeling from both the sting of your muscles caused by his forceful entrance, and the familiar warmth filling you full.

Without bothering to warm you up, he began a breathtaking pace despite his overwhelming intrusion. You didn’t mind, though. In fact, his thrusts were making your moans irrepressible and your thighs tremble in delight.

Jungkook places his head between the valleys of your covered mounds, not missing his faint grunts, lost in his own pleasure.

“You like that, huh? You like the idea of being fucked outside, baby girl? I’ve had enough this bullshit,” He growls with a series of rough jerk of his hips, forcing a cry of his name out of you.

“That’s right, moan my name. Just wait until I get you all alone tonight, I’ll make sure you won’t ever think of breaking up with me. Do you hear me?” He warns darkly, emphasizing the severity of his threat with a shove of his dick so deep his tip was heavenly kissing your precious spot from your insides.

“Oh god,” you lamented, deliriously.

You could already feel the building up in your abdomen just as fast as he started rocking into you. You’ve known him long enough for you to easily sense it was the same for him too, concealing his moans with his mouth latched onto your prickly skin.

“That’s right. Come for me!” he grunted in between powerful thrusts.

His command did the trick, sending your body forward as you exploded, your walls tighten around him with each snap of his hips against your pelvis. Soon enough, he jerked off his load inside you with a growl rumbling on his chest.

Grimace creases on your expression as he cautiously pulls his cock out, following his load combined with your juices gushing out of your pussy down to the insides of your thighs.

Barely recovered from the earth shattering orgasm you had for the first time in three months, you heard a series of banging coming from the other side of the door.

“You done, lovebirds?” Your eyes clenched shut in realization, quietly plotting the assassination of some guy named Jimin.

“Thanks for ruining the moment,” Jungkook retorts back. “Not a problem. You guys seriously need to get the fuck out, I ran out of beans in the jar and try not fuck each other here next time, yeah?”

Amused with the scene unfolding, Jungkook casually pushes your underwear back to its place, smoothening your skirt down as if nothing inappropriate had occurred here. He kisses the tip of your nose, before turning the knob of the door.

Couldn’t this get any more embarrassing?

~~~

Thank you for reading and apologies for any spelling/ grammatical errors. I havent edited this yet. Part 2 will most likely be posted on Monday or Tuesday :)

#jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook #bts smut #bts fanfic #bts imagines

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luvlyrv · 4 years

Text

Manage My Feelings | Yeri x Fem!Manager!Reader

Genre: fluff

Summary: You didn’t expect to become a manager for Red Velvet, and you certainly didn’t expect to develop feelings for a certain member.

Word Count: 2.2k

A/N: I hope that you find some of the dialogue awfully cheesy lol. I’ll try writing again over the weekend but again, I don’t know how much time I have which is why I’m uploading this now. Enjoy!

Date: 2/3/21

Five girls longue about in a back room, patiently waiting for their turn to perform on stage. The idle chatter between them and some staff was briefly interrupted when Jihoon, one of their managers. opened the door. Jihoon walked in with an unfamiliar girl behind him. They both walked in front of the give girls and stopped.

"Hello, I'm L/N Y/N, nice to meet you all." You say with a polite bow. The girls look up at you with faces full of interest. Jihoon continued to your introduction for you.

"As you know, Minseo left her position as your manager a week ago. Y/N is here to fill in that place and help you with your activities. Please make her feel welcomed." Jihoon says before taking his leave, busy with tasks much more important than welcoming a new manager.

You're left in a room filled with strangers, but luckily the idols in front of you didn't hesitate to introduce themselves, as well as the other staff in the room. You feel a bit dazed by the beauty of the girls. You've never really worked nor kept up with the idol industry before, but now you'll have to be working 24/7 to make sure their schedules are in check.

Judging by the kind smiles they give you though, at least you'll be working with people who wouldn't be a pain. Although you already know their names from the files you were given, you still listen attentively as they introduced yourself. The one that catches your attention most though, is the youngest member. While the rest gave you professional and friendly-enough introductions, Yerim seemed lighthearted and giggly when speaking to you.

The other managers and staff that worked closely with the idol group were mostly friendly as well. You note that some of them don't really care for your presence, or maybe even actively disliked it, but you felt like you could shrug it off considering you've worked with worse. Soon enough though, the girls are called on stage. You would say your time with them was cut short, but you'd be spending most of your day to day life within their presence anyways.

It's been two months since you started working as a manager for Red Velvet, and it's been tough. You wake up at obscene hours, having only fallen asleep a couple hours before rising again. Most of your time is spent behind the wheel, trying your hardest to drive the members safely while being dead tired. The other part of the time was spent contacting other managers, directors, photographers, brand ambassadors, and more to recheck schedules.

You had very little downtime. To be fair, the girls didn't either. Even during your downtime, many times you had to be there to supervise the girls. You felt bad that neither of you truly had time to yourselves. The time spent together though at least built a sense of trust between all of you. For you, not only was it your job to care for the girls, but it felt like as a friend you had to care for them too. Which was why when you heard quiet sobs through the bathroom door you softly knocked.

"Hey, everything alright in there?" You ask with a voice filled with worry. All you got in response was muffled sniffles.

"Take your time. I'll be out here whenever you wanna talk." You give offer up a chat and without an explicit no you decide to just wait outside. After a couple minutes you hear the soft creak of the door opening. Slowly, you watch as Yerim slips out of the bathroom. Her eyes quickly scan the area and they land on you.

Your eyes softened at the sight of Yerim with puffy and red eyes. You walk towards her and carefully reach out. She doesn't turn away from your touch when your hand rests on your shoulder.

"Is there anything you wanna tell me about? I'm here to listen." Yeri looks down at the floor and leans forward, resting her head on your chest.

"I'm sorry. I just can't handle it sometimes." She mumbles into your chest. Your arms begin to envelop her body as you pull her closer.

"There's nothing you should apologize for." You try to reassure her. "Is it the comments?" You whisper into her ear. She nods and you pat her back.

"I know I shouldn't read them, but they're so easy to spot."

"Hey hey, I know. I don't blame you. It's not like you can close your eyes to everything. It's their fault that they spend so much time trying to hurt you." Your pats become calming strokes. Your heart breaks a little. As much as the girls tried to hide it, the stress from the never-ending scrutiny got to them sometimes. Especially for Yerim who entered the industry so young. You found that despite the fact it had been years since her debut, some would insist that she didn't belong. There were many other instances where people would just criticize her for being herself too.

The two of stay that way for a while. You feel your shirt starting to get wet, but you don't mind. Instead, you stand there for as long as Yerim needed. You knew that sometimes words don't mean much. Sometimes you already know how you should react or handle something, but that didn't take away from the feelings coursing through you. So you let Yerim cry it all out, hoping that it would eventually make her feel better.

After a couple minutes Yerim finally lifted her face. There are glistening streaks on her face and you carefully wipe them away for her with a handkerchief. You give her a small smile.

"I'm sorry." She apologizes to you again. You shake your head at her.

"Don't be." It seems like she's finally able to smile again as she mutters a small thank you. She leaves your hug and tries to recollect herself.

"If you want to, you can go shopping with Sooyoung. I came over because she wanted me to drive her." You say in hopes that the activity would brighten her mood. Although it takes a while for her to think about it she nods her head yes.

"Just give me some time to get ready to head out first."

As time passes, you feel like Yerim is the member that you're closest to. You're friendly with all of them of course, but it seems like you were there with Yerim the most. Without her knowing it you quickly became her favorite manager too. It wasn't very frequently that they would be assigned a manager so close to their age.

Yerim decides to sit next to you during a staff dinner and you scoot over to give her some space. She's thankful for the dim lighting of the restaurant as she feels her face heating up. She opens her mouth as you feed her without a second thought, letting her try the dishes you ordered. She wonders if it's all in her head, but she feels like you always give a little more attention to doting on her needs.

"Yerim?" Your voice suddenly pierces through her thoughts. She refocuses and looks at you.

"Hm?" She asks, not knowing what you said before. She was too spaced out thinking about you to realize you had been talking to her.

"I was asking if you wanted to wear my jacket. You seem to be freezing." Once again Yerim sees the familiar caring look on your face. She didn't even realize that her body had been shivering under the now blasting air conditioner of the restaurant.

"I don't want you to get cold." She tries to argue with you, but you begin taking off your jacket anyways. You cover her bare shoulders with it.

"I'm more worried about you." You say it with a smile, enjoying the look of Yerim wearing your jacket. You go back to eating your meal and chatting with the other managers as Yerim looks back down at her plate. She smiles, glad that you ended up giving her your jacket anyways. Most of all she enjoyed the soft smell of you that now covered her body.

The night goes on. Everyone was having fun and things were running smoothly up until the alcohol started being set on the table. Considering that the staff dinner was hosted in celebration for their most recent win, you supposed it wasn't a surprise that everyone started drinking. Seulgi and Sooyoung ended up drunk. Meanwhile Joohyun and Seungwan only seemed lightly buzzed, much more aware of their tolerance and unwilling to deal with the aftermath that they'd face tomorrow.

Yerim on the other-hand was much worse for wear. Her head was resting on your shoulder as she mumbled about random things. The rowdiness of the night seemed to finally die down. Some other managers began to help round the girls into the van. With Yerim pressed against you though, you said you'd catch up with them soon as you gently began to lift her up.

She refused to leave her seat at first, stating that her butt felt warm and she didn't wanna leave the soft cushion. After enough budging though you finally got her standing. Although she had trouble and continued to lean on you for balance. Since it took so long to even make Yerim begin to move, everyone else had already cleared.

You drag Yerim along with you as you walk out in the street. The parking lot is a considerable distance away, but you don't mind. You look at your side, appreciating the golden glow casted on Yerim's face by the street lamps. You watch as her eyelashes flutter and then her head moves. She looks at you and a big smile grows on her face.

"You're really pretty, Y/N." She whispers and giggles. Your feet suddenly stop. You had no idea how to respond.

"Is… is that so?" You ask and laugh a bit at the end. There was heat creeping up your neck.

"Yeah. You're the prettiest when you look at me like that."

"Like what?"

"Like I'm the only person in the world." You're sure you're as red as a tomato now. Your stomach is flooded with butterflies as you stare into Yerim's eyes closely. There's something mischievous with the way she's smirking at you right now. Something sparkling in her eyes.

"Do you like it when I do that?" It's a genuine question. You wonder that with Yerim drunk, she'd say and admit things you weren't sure she would otherwise. She tugs on your arm and makes you turn to face her.

"Yes. I do." Before you can respond she kisses you. The slight taste of alcohol is on her lips as you make contact. You gently push her off of you, not wanting her to have her kiss you when she wasn't thinking the clearest. She gives you a sad look as and whines.

"Do you not like me?" She asks with tears threatening to spew out.

"Of course I do." You smile at her. You raise a hand to caress her redden cheeks and your finger lightly grazes her bottom lip. You opt to kiss her forehead rather than her lips. "I just don't want you to do anything foolish."

You continue escorting Yerim to the van. When you enter, no one questions how clingy she was being.

It's the morning after. You knock on Yerim's door with a glass of water and some pain medication in your other hand. After a few seconds you hear the sounds of some muffled footsteps before the door was opened. Yerim's head appeared in the small opening she created. She looked at you for a few seconds before leaving the door opened and falling back onto her bed.

You follow after her, closing the door behind you when you enter her room. You bring the glass of water to Yerim's face and she drinks a couple large gulps. You show her the tablets of medicine in your hand and she plucks them off, grabbing the glass and downing it with them.

"Thanks." She says with a slightly scratchy morning voice.

"Mhm." You hum and nod before sitting on the side of her bed. You stare at the furniture that she had around her room before Yerim started speaking again.

"Did I do something last night?"

"You did a lot of things last night." You tease her with vagueness.

"But did I do something I'd regret?" She asks with a scared tone. You stop looking around her room and stare at her instead.

"If liking me and having me like you back is something you'd regret, then yes, you very much did." You say with a smile. Yerim quickly looks away from you before taking a deep breath in and out.

"Did I try kissing you?"

"You did, but I'd rather kiss you when you know that you're kissing me. Like this." You lean over to her and gently grab her face, pulling it towards you. "May I?" Yerim nods.

You kiss her, and you'd like to consider it your true first kiss together. You feel her lips tugging up into a smile before you pull away. You knew things would be hard. With Yerim being an idol and you as her manager. When you look at Yerim's face brimming with happiness though, you can't help but to think that it'd be worth it to try.

#red velvet imagines #rv x reader #red velvet scenarios #rv yeri #kim yerim #kim yerim x reader #yeri x reader #red velvet #red velvet kpop #kpop writing #kpop fics #kpop scenarios #kpop girls #kpop imagines #red velvet x reader #gg writing #kpop gg #gg scenarios #gg imagines

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closedafterdark · 4 years

Note

Imagine you woke up Seulgi with sex.

a little something for @ggidolsmuts

“Baby, can you take care of Seulgi? It seems she’s been pretty stressed lately. I would do so but you know I have a business trip for work.”

“Oh sure, noona. How long are you going to be gone?”

“Just a few days. Why? Are you going to miss mommy that much?”

“Do I even have to answer?”

“Awh, I’ll miss you too baby. Have fun with Seulgi while I’m gone! I love you.” Bae Joohyun said, giving you one last kiss as she left your shared apartment.

Twenty four hours later, that was how you saw Seulgi sleeping peacefully beside you on you and Joohyun’s bed. She was fast asleep, one of her legs in between yours as her head was resting on your chest with one arm wrapped around you. You felt her peaceful breaths coming out of her nose.

The morning sun lit up the entire room, the white walls of your bedroom making everything a bit brighter than it had to be. You lightly rubbed your eyes and stretched your arms, trying your best not to wake up the beautiful woman beside you. Luckily, you noticed her smack her lips slightly before readjusting herself on your chest. You smiled, Joohyun told you Seulgi was given the nickname of bear by their friend group and it’s easy to see why.

Unfortunately, a throbbing erection was not a good start to the day. Normally, Joohyun would’ve taken care of it by now. You thought about masturbating in the bathroom, but knew it wasn’t the same as a woman’s mouth or pussy. Suddenly, an idea crossed your mind. You look down at your cock poking through your boxers and the sleeping woman next to you. Seulgi asked if she could sleep with you since she was lonely and didn’t like being alone.

Joohyun did tell you to take care of Seulgi since she has been stressed lately. And although she didn’t say it directly, you knew she meant sexually as well. You gently remove Seulgi’s head from your body and watch as she clings onto the pillow below. As you pull down your boxer briefs and toss them across the room, you feel your erection thanking you for finally freeing it from its cloth prison. It was painfully hard, precum beginning to bead on your tip.

You make a fist and place your head on it, observing Seulgi’s sleeping body. As you gently remove the blanket aside, you plant your knees on either side of her waist. Seulgi’s hair flowed naturally down her body, forcing you to push it aside from her chest. Her lingerie top showed the tiniest bit of cleavage. She and Joohyun weren’t busty by any means, but they had enough for you to enjoy playing with. You nibble on her exposed skin, causing Seulgi to let out the softest moans you’ve ever heard.

The silky camisole she is wearing entices you as you carefully lift it up. You lick your lips in anticipation, seeing Seulgi’s toned body below you. You reach down and gently massage her breasts. They are extremely soft and warm to the touch. You feel goosebumps form on her exposed skin as your cold hands roam through them. Once your thumbs glaze across her pretty pink nipples, you gently squeeze them between two fingers.

“Oooh.” You hear Seulgi softly let out. You freeze, scared she may have woken up. But as you feel her wiggle around before remaining still, you breathe a sigh of relief.

“Your body is so nice, Seulgi.” you softly whisper as you fondle her breasts once more.

The warmth of Seulgi’s inviting body is too much for you to handle. You grab the base of your cock and slowly part her pussy lips with your tip. Teasing her by poking it inside several times, you decided it was time to finally enter her. You watch your cock enter Seulgi’s warm pussy. She was extremely tight, her muscles clamping onto your cock as you savored the overwhelming feeling you were experiencing.

“Oh, fuck. That feels good.” you said, closing your eyes in ecstasy.

Your hands massage Seulgi’s breasts as you sink more and more of yourself into her. Seulgi’s juices immediately coated your cock, making you wonder why Joohyun never asked you to fuck her friend sooner. With your eyes still closed, you throw your head slightly back and begin thrusting inside Seulgi. You didn’t want to wake her, but your body acted on its own accord, pushing your cock deeper inside her. The only thing you were focused on was cumming inside her. You knew Joohyun would secretly be turned on if she was in the room watching.

“Oooh… what?” she muttered, her voice still sleepy but at the same time aroused.

“Wait, what are you doing? Oh fuck, that feels good.”

Seulgi wanted to move slightly, but you deny her by holding her thighs in place. Seulgi closed her eyes once more as she bit her lower lip.

“Fuck! Fuck me harder!” she yelled.

You eventually establish a rhythm, watching Seulgi’s body rock back and forth thanks to your thrusts.

“You’re so tight, Seulgi.” you said softly, slapping her breasts. This causes Seulgi to moan loudly.

You thrust into her several more times before flipping her over so that she is now on her stomach. You raise her butt slightly before spearing her once more with your erect cock. Seulgi buries her face into the pillow as she cries out your name. You hear her gasp as you fill her completely.

“You’re… fully inside me.” Seulgi moaned.

You tease her by giving several soft thrusts before withdrawing your cock until only the tip was inside her.

“This is going to feel so good… for both of us.” you whispered to her before shoving yourself fully into her once more. You raise Seulgi’s body slight in order to squeeze her breasts, fondling them before using them as support while you fuck her.

Seulgi’s body has now adjusted itself to your cock, causing her breaths to become shallow.

“You’re so wet, Seulgi.”

She doesn’t reply, wanting to bury her face onto the mattress from the pleasure she was receiving. It courses through her veins as she breathes deeply and allows herself to absorb all the dirty thoughts and physical sensations she repressed because she knew you and Joohyun are engaged. She moans out whenever you release her breasts from your hands, slightly frustrated that you did so. The anger is soon replaced with ecstasy as she feels you rubbing two fingers on her folds. Your thrusts into Seulgi are not fast or rough, but they maintain a healthy rhythm as Seulgi closes her eyes and continues to moan.

“Joohyun noona said you’ve been stressed lately. I can feel it, your body is so tense.” you say in between thrusts.

“Y-Yeah, I have. Oh my god…” she moaned in reply.

Seulgi grabs onto the bed sheets as you begin to fuck her harder. Her vagina is wrapped tightly around your cock, feeling every inch of you as you enter and exit her hot sex.

“Oh fuck…” Seulgi moaned loudly, making no effort to hide how aroused she is. Your fingers trace her inner thighs as she feels you spread her legs even wider to make her feel comfortable.

“Why does this feel so good? Fuck, you’re making me feel so good…” she said.

Seulgi feels her orgasm building up inside her, causing her to gradually increase the volume of her screams.

“Oh fuck! Fuck, I’m going to cum…” She managed to say in between loud moans and heavy panting. She shakes her head, not sure how this could feel even better than she imagined.

“Cum for me, baby…” you whispered into her ear. You plant kisses on her back and the back of her neck as the both of you listen to the squelching sounds of your wet bodies colliding as you fuck each other and form a perfect unison.

“Please… this feels so good!” Seulgi whined, almost begging you for more.

Your cock is fully inside Seulgi, her cute bottom hitting your lower body. Her pussy has fully engulfed your cock, the both of you feeling her walls contracting completely around you. Seulgi’s orgasm is fast approaching, built up over a dry spell that lasted several weeks.

“Are you going to cum inside me? I’d really like that. I want you to cum inside me. Cum in me like you do to Joohyun unnie.” she said quietly.

Seulgi’s eyes close once more as her body surrenders to the pure ecstasy she is feeling.

She can see stars behind her closed eyes as her orgasm hits her body immediately. You were so deep inside Seulgi, her whole body trembles in pleasure. The moment it arrives, Seulgi cannot do anything else but scream out your name over and over as she came.

“Oh fuck!”

All Seulgi can focus on is how good of a sensation is coming out from between her legs. She cries out in pure pleasure as her orgasm continues. You continue fucking Seulgi through it, causing her to continue letting out loud moans.

“Oh fuck, I’m cumming again. I’m cumming!” She screamed, a mixture of ecstasy and disbelief in her voice as she was surprised how quickly her second orgasm arrived.

Your hips move faster inside her, her pussy juices liberally lubricating your cock. Your hands dig into the skin of her soft butt cheeks as you fuck Seulgi with all of your depleting energy. Seulgi could do nothing but scream loudly for you to fuck her harder. The pleasure is so intense that it almost hurts both of you. She struggles to breathe from your rough thrusts.

“Fuck… Seulgi! You’re still so tight. I’m about to cum… keep pushing your ass against me, babygirl. Fuck!” your moans almost as loud as hers. Your breathing has become shallow as your thrusts deepen while beginning to slow down.

Seulgi moans in response as she does her best to recover from her intense orgasms.

“Don’t you dare pull out.” She weakly said.

Your breaths become heavier, as your cock pushes deeper inside her. Your orgasm was fast approaching.

“Fuck!” Seulgi moaned. “Fuck me deeper!” Her eyes begin to open, biting her lower lip as she pleads for you to roughly pound her. She closes her eyes again as any thought she was currently thinking is replaced with the sensation of you slamming deep inside her.

“No, don’t pull out please…” she whimpered as she felt you backing away and slowly withdrawing your cock from her freshly fucked pussy.

You grab her shoulders and hold her in your embrace. Seulgi cries out softly as your arms wrap around her body, kissing her collarbone. Her knees and legs feel like jelly at this point.

“Kang Seulgi.” You said, grabbing Seulgi’s attention as her eyes find yours. She realized you wanted her to see you as you came inside her.

“Wrap your arms around me.” You say to her, watching Seulgi’s body moving in slow motion. She closes her eyes, her body on your lap as your bodies are now united. You press your chest against Seulgi’s head as her arms are wrapped tightly on your back and her long legs on your waist. She feels so full, happy that Joohyun allowed you to pleasure her. The tip of your cock is rubbing against all the right spots inside her, causing Seulgi to moan.

“Cum inside me, please.” she begs as you begin to bounce her toned body up and down. Her words make her even more wet, as her pussy welcomes every inch and every motion you are giving her. Her body twitches as her walls tighten around your cock.

“Fuck!” that was the only semblance of a warning you can give her as your orgasm arrives. The fast speed at which you were thrusting inside her comes to a sudden halt as you throw your head back and fill her pussy completely once more.

Seulgi moans in ecstasy as she feels your hot, thick cum fill her up.

“Oh fuck…” she purrs in satisfaction, her eyes rolling back as she feels your cock throb as it releases a never ending flow of thick, creamy white cum inside her body. Your orgasm triggers her third one of the morning, specifically when you lowered her body all the way down to your base. The feeling of being filled to the brim caused Seulgi to see stars exploding inside her closed eyes once more. Her pussy walls tighten around your cock as the feeling of finally having sex and having you cum inside her completely consumes her.

“You feel so good, Seulgi.” she heard you say.

Both of you are completely drenched in sweat. You open your eyes and see drool coming out of Seulgi’s mouth, dripping onto her neck and chest. Both of you feel her flushed thighs that were slowly being covered in your mixed juices as it leaks out of her pussy.

“Holy fuck, that felt amazing.” Seulgi said as she panted, struggling to catch her breath. She wraps her arms around your neck, pulling you down as she captures your lips. They were passionate and tender. You both managed to open your eyes, causing you both to smile in between kisses. You look at Seulgi, seeing her eyes and face having a completely satisfied expression.

“Why don’t we… shower… and continue this.” She said to you in between kisses.

“You know… Joohyun noona’s going to be gone for a week.” you said, massaging her breasts gently.

“Ah - I know. Which is why I’m going to make the most of it and drain your balls until there’s nothing left.”

You smiled, feeling Seulgi wrap her legs around your waist and her arms on your neck as you gently pick her up and bring you both to the bathroom. Seulgi was happy, especially since you still haven’t pulled out of her. She made a mental note to record your sessions after the shower. Joohyun made it well known to her friends watching herself get fucked by her boyfriend made her extremely wet. Seulgi giggled internally at the thought of what Joohyun’s reaction would be to watching her fiance fuck her best friend.

#asks #red velvet smut #kang seulgi

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btsqualityy · 4 years

Text

Scripted: Part 10

Namjoon x Reader; Jimin x Reader

Genre: Angst, fluff, President!Namjoon, Head of Security!Jimin

Warnings: (Reluctant) open relationship, mentions of cheating

Author’s Note: This part is pretty short so I’m sorry but here it is! Hope you guys enjoy it!

“Jimin, let me go,” you giggled, trying but failing to get Jimin to unwrap his arms from around your waist.

“Noooo,” he whined playfully, pressing a kiss to the back of your neck from where he stood behind you. “I want you to stay.”

“I already let you convince me to stay again last night,” you pointed out. “I have to head back to the Blue House, because Namjoon and I have a dinner that we’re supposed to be hosting together.”

“And you’re really gonna go back there?” Jimin questioned and you sighed heavily as you nodded your head.

“I have to,” you shrugged. “At least until I figure out how to handle all of this.”

“I get it,” he nodded and you turned around in his arms and wrapped your arms around his neck.

“Trust me, I’d much rather stay here with you and not look at his lying face,” you grumbled, making Jimin laugh at your expression.

“You gotta do what you gotta do baby bird,” he smiled. “But you can call me if you need me, ok?”

“Alright,” you nodded. “You work tomorrow right?”

“Yeah, I’ll be in my office most likely,” he replied.

“Then I’ll stop by and see you,” you told him and he nodded. “Thank you again, for letting me stay here and for letting me vent. Also, for the amazing orgasms too,” you giggled, recalling how Jimin made you come on his fingers again when you woke up in his bed this morning, with him next to you this time.

“Stop thanking me,” Jimin chuckled. “I told you, I just want you to be happy and I meant that.”

“I know,” you whispered, leaning forward and kissing him gently. “Bye.”

“Bye,” Jimin said as he unwrapped his arms from around you. “Be safe baby bird.”

“I will,” you promised, waving at him one last time before you opened the front door to his apartment and stepped out into the hallway.

................................

As soon as you stepped foot into the Blue House, you could both hear and see the hustle and bustle that was going on as the workers were putting the finishing touches onto the house, specifically the large dining room, for the guests that would soon be arriving.

As you began to make your way to your bedroom, you heard a familiar voice calling your name.

“Y/N!” You turned around and saw Momo running towards you, and a large grin fell onto your lips as she ran up to you and threw her arms around you in a tight hug. “God, I missed you!”

“I missed you too!” You chuckled as you hugged her back.

“Remind me to never go home for family events as long as I live, ok?” Momo requested as she pulled away from the hug and you nodded your head. “Where have you been though? Namjoon’s been looking for you.”

“Oh, fuck him,” you let slip and Momo raised her eyebrows at you. Knowing that she’d want the full story, you grabbed her arm and pulled her into the first empty room that you saw, which just happened to be one of the bathrooms. Closing the door and locking it behind you, you turned around to see Momo leaning up against the counter top.

“What happened?” She demanded to know.

“I caught Namjoon with Hyejin two days ago,” you revealed and Momo’s eyes widened.

“Are you serious?” She asked and you nodded your head. “Oh Y/N-ah, I’m so sorry.”

“Oh, it gets worse,” you said. “They were in our bed.”

“Your bed?” Momo wondered as she pointed at you. “Like, the one that’s right down the hall?”

“Yeah, that one,” you confirmed.

“God, I know Namjoon’s been a dick but that’s low even for him,” she huffed. “So, what happened after that?”

“I kicked Hyejin’s ass,-”

“As you should have,” Momo interrupted you, nodding her approval.

“I slapped Namjoon and then I ran out of here,” you told her. “I didn’t know where to go, so I called Jimin and went to his apartment.”

“Wait, why’d you call Jimin?” Momo questioned.

“Oh, I might’ve left out the part where Jimin and I kissed like an hour before I came home and caught Namjoon with Hyejin,” you admitted and Momo’s eyes widened.

“What?!” She shrieked happily and you threw your finger up to your lips, shushing her harshly because you didn’t want anyone hearing her. “Ok, I’m sorry but you and Jimin kissed?!”

“We did,” you smiled softly at the memory. “When I got to his place, I vented about catching them and he let me sleep over. The next day, he made me breakfast and I vented to him about everything. How me and Joon started dating, the first time I caught him with Hyejin, the arrangement, everything.”

“Wow,” Momo huffed.

“After that, he offered to let me stay with him and we did face masks together.”

“Aw, that’s so sweet and pure,” Momo smiled.

“And then I may or may not have let him finger me on his couch and then again this morning but that’s besides the point,” you shrugged.

“Ok, I take that back,” Momo smirked. “Who knew you still had a little hoe in you Y/N-ah?”

“Shut up,” you groaned.

“So what, are you seeing Jimin now?”

“I mean, we haven’t really defined anything,” you replied. “We just know that we like each other.”

“Well, I’m happy for you,” Momo said. “I haven’t seen you smile like this in months.”

“Thanks Momo,” you smiled before taking a second to look at the time that was on the clock hanging on the wall. “I guess I better go get ready.”

“Good luck,” Momo told you, giving you a quick hug before you unlocked the door and opened it, the both of you going your separate ways. You walked down the hall to your bedroom, opening the door and walking inside. Namjoon was there, working on fixing his cuff-links, and he looked up when he heard you.

“Hey,” he greeted you.

“Mm,” was all you said in response as you paced over to the walk-in closet, opening the door and going straight for your side of the closet. You found the dress that you had picked out for tonight, and you quickly shed your clothes to work on getting dressed.

“Are you not gonna talk to me?” Namjoon wondered and when you looked up, he was standing in the doorway of the closet.

“What do we have to talk about Namjoon?” You demanded to know as you looked up at him. “If you can’t tell me why you decided to fuck her again, out of all the women in the world, then we have nothing to discuss as far as I’m concerned.”

“It’s complicated,” he tried to say but you cut him off.

“Bullshit,” you spit harshly. “This whole arrangement has been fucked up from the beginning but you literally couldn’t do the one fucking thing that I asked of you, which was to not see her again.” A few minutes of silence passed between the two of you as you pulled on your dress, zipping it up and fixing it on your body.

“Maybe we should just stop fooling ourselves,” you spoke up as you turned around to look at Namjoon. “Maybe we should just say forget this whole thing and you can go be with Hyejin.”

“Y/N-ah, no,” Namjoon stated firmly as he stepped over to you, wrapping his hands around your arms. “We made an agreement and even if we hadn’t, I still love you.”

“How can you expect me to believe that when you don’t act like it or show it?” You asked him genuinely.

“Have you ever even thought about why I agreed to this whole ‘open marriage’ thing?” Namjoon wondered. “Because I love you and I wanted our marriage to work.”

“But you’re still going out and fucking other women.”

“I didn’t start fucking other women until January, right before the inauguration,” he revealed.

“But, we made the arrangement in October,” you replied slowly.

“Exactly. I didn’t touch another woman for the first three months because I was trying to win back your trust and trying to work things out,” he explained. “You were so closed off, which is understandable, and you would barely talk to me unless we were in public and I didn’t know what else to do. I figured that you were set on our marriage just being the arrangement from now on, so I let it go.”

“You,-” you started to say but you were interrupted by multiple knocks on the door. “What is it?”

“It’s hair and makeup,” you heard your stylist, Joohyun, call out.

“Just a minute,” you replied but your reply was followed by a few more urgent knocks.

“We kind of need to get you in now Y/N-ah, if you and President Kim are going to be on time for the dinner,” Joohyun replied.

“Alright, alright,” you relented, turning to look at Namjoon for a few seconds before stepping around him and walking out of the closet. You started to move towards the door, but you paused when you saw that the bed was still there; the one that you had caught Namjoon and Hyejin in. You turned to look over your shoulder, seeing that Namjoon had followed you out of the closet and was leaning against the wall, watching you.

“And get rid of this fucking bed,” you spat, not waiting for Namjoon to reply before you went to let your stylist into the bedroom.

................................

“And now introducing, President and First Lady Kim,” one of the workers at The Blue House announced and you tightened your grip on Namjoon’s inner arm as he led you into the large dining room, where literally dozens of guests were waiting. Namjoon pulled your chair out for you and you smiled at him before taking a seat, watching as Namjoon then moved to stand at the head of the long table.

“Welcome and thank you all for coming tonight,” Namjoon began, immediately commanding the attention of everyone in the room. “Y/N and I are so happy that you all could join us tonight, as this dinner is something that we’ve been planning since I assumed office.”

As your husband spoke, you found it harder and harder to be able to sit there and at least pretend as though you were actively listening. With everything’s that’s happened to you in the past three days, you weren’t able to pull on your excellent faking skills and put on the face of a woman that was madly in love with her husband. In fact, the more you listened to Namjoon, the more that the feeling of resentment began to bubble up inside of you. He was the perfect President and he was great at portraying the image of being a wonderful husband; so, why couldn’t he actually be that for you?

“So again, on behalf of myself and my wife,” Namjoon sent you a soft smile as he glanced at you. “We’d like to thank you all again and we hope that you enjoy tonight.” Everyone began applauding then and the person that you were sitting next to, who happened to be the Minister of Oceans and Fisheries, leaning over to you.

“Your husband is an amazing speaker,” he told you and you immediately plastered on a fake smile.

“He is,” you nodded in agreement. “He’s very good at telling people what he thinks they need to hear.”

................................

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sodamvelvets · 4 years

Text

“cherry blossoms”

bae joohyun x fem reader

word count: 4,386

warnings: some swears

a/n: wow, I suddenly got really motivated and was able to write this one in just a day :D, a Seulgi one will be coming next followed by either Joy or Yeri! I hope you guys like this one, I tried out a different writing style for it.

Irene’s gaze falls out the window as she rests her chin in her palms, peacefully watching as the breeze gently brushes against the towering cherry blossom trees that line the streets, causing their blooming flowers to slowly float downwards in wide spirals before settling amongst the bustling pedestrians. Irene sighs contentedly, April has always been her favorite time of year, even before she moved to Seoul five years ago. The brunette has always had a special appreciation for the cherry blossom season, the pink flowers taking her back to the times before her debut, where she’d spend the small two week period bounding through the winding Buk-gu district parks, her older sister just barely trailing behind as Joohyun occasionally stopped to collect the delicate blossoms, her giggles echoing through the warm spring air.

But she realizes, almost bitterly, that those times have long since passed, and by now, Joohyun, South Korea’s freshly turned thirty-year-old it girl, is much too refined to spend her days playing amongst the flowers.

“Joohyun?” Irene jumps in surprise as she feels a hand lightly grasp her shoulder, turning to see Red Velvet’s maknae, Kim Yerim, smiling apologetically at the older girl. “We have to go.”

Irene nods, watching as Yeri runs to join the rest of her members who are currently animatedly chatting away as they await alongside her manager and bodyguard at the café exit. Joohyun stands, stretching her limbs out before reaching for her face mask and black baseball cap, quickly adjusting both around her face.

“Did you enjoy your alone time?” Wendy teases as Irene approaches the group, Seulgi, and Joy both quietly snickering beside her, while Yerim silently types away on her phone. Irene rolls her eyes.

“Yes, it’s much easier to properly think without mosquitos buzzing in your ear.” She says dryly.

Seungwan cackles, pinching her leader’s cheek and quickly stopping as both girls notice their manager whose eyebrows are narrowed in an unamused expression. “Are we ready to hear the schedule for today, or are we going to continue acting half our age?”

Joohyun’s cheeks redden as she mumbles out an apology, and her manager begins to drone out a long list of today’s activities. Irene’s eyes begin to wander back outside as her manager speaks, her focus moving to the two young children chasing each other through the blossom laden roads, the sounds of their sweet laughter being left in their wake. “I’d like to go for a walk before we leave.” Irene suddenly says, and her manager lets out an exasperated sigh.

“Joohyun, we don’t have time for-“

“I want to as well!” Seulgi chirps with a crescent eyed smile, cheerily holding up her camera. “The weather is really good for pictures.”

Seungwan waves her hand in the air excitedly. “Me too! Plus we still have time before our photoshoot.”

Joohyun giggles softly as Sooyoung and Yerim join in on the chorus of begging, their high pitched whines causing their manager to rub his forehead in thought and irritation.

“Fine!” He finally exclaims, checking his watch. “You have ten minutes.”

The Red Velvet members cheer, splitting off into their own groups as they file outside with Irene politely declining Wendy’s offer to check out the boutique across the street, instead opting to walk aimlessly down the busy Seoul streets, enjoying the faint scent of the cherry blossoms drifting through the air.

It’s times like this she misses most, Irene thinks as she pulls her hat just a little lower, the times when she wasn’t one of Korea’s most famous celebrities, but rather just Bae Joohyun, the shy and quiet girl from the Daegu providence, able to wander the city whenever she wanted or even just sleep in past seven. But even as she watches the children play and the rowdy teens jostle each other around, Joohyun knows she wouldn’t have it any other way. She likes her life now, as different as it may be from the peaceful one she once had.

“Look out!” Irene’s eyes flick upwards at the sound, eyes widening as a girl looking around Sooyoung’s age comes bombing down the sidewalk on a skateboard, slamming her foot into the pavement as Joohyun quickly steps to the left, watching in shock as the sudden force of the stop causes the girl to go flying off her board, landing with a loud thump in the spot where Joohyun had just been standing.

Irene blinks, before moving to grab the girl’s skateboard and rushing to her side. “Are you okay?” She asks worriedly, helping the girl stand.

Irene is surprised when the girl, who is only a couple inches taller than Joohyun, only laughs heartily, brushing the dirt off her knees, and patting down her shirt. “Never better!” She says with a large smile, taking the board from Irene’s hands and tucking it under her arm. “I’m really sorry for almost hitting you and I’d love to make it up to you but I gotta go, my shift starts in five minutes.”

Joohyun gapes at the young girl, slightly put off by her almost puppy-like personality, and for the first time noticing the girl’s unique beauty, her sparkling brown eyes and slightly mussed hair helping her achieve a certain type of gorgeous that Irene feels outmatches her own and reminds the brunette of a female classmate whom she used to frequently admire back when she lived in Daegu.

“It’s okay,” Irene finally manages to say, tearing her eyes away from the girl and cringing as her voice comes out a little more shaky than she would’ve liked. “Maybe you should walk the rest of the way through.”

“Will do!” The girl says, making a saluting motion that Joohyun notes is eerily akin to something Seungwan would do, but unlike when Wendy does it, Irene finds it oddly charming and even a little heartwarming.

“You know,” Joohyun says with a chuckle, feeling that same fluttering feeling in her stomach that she used to feel when she was near her Daegu classmate. “You’d better go before you’re too late.”

“Oh!” The taller girl exclaims, a look of embarrassment coming to her face as she bashfully rubs the back of her neck, a toothy grin spreading across her lips, which Joohyun realizes she’s been staring intently at. “Right! But If I ever see you again, I definitely owe you a coffee.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Joohyun says kindly, pushing down the saddening thought that she’d most likely never see the younger girl again, before urging her to hurry along.

Irene watches the girl with a smile as she takes off, waiting a few moments before uttering a few choice swear words, realizing that just like the girl in Daegu, she finds this new one insanely attractive, and can already feel herself developing a crush on the stranger.

For a second, Joohyun stands, soaking in the warm sun and admittedly, thinking about the girl’s warm smile, before finally deciding to set off again, her eyes almost immediately falling upon an object laying on the ground around where the girl had fallen earlier, and perhaps foolishly Irene bends down to pick it up, quickly identifying it.

“Hey! Your wallet!” Joohyun calls, but by then the girl is so far away that Irene can’t even see her, and with a humored sigh Irene decides to follow after the girl’s general direction, only to be cut short by the feeling of her phone vibrating within her pocket. Joohyun’s eyes widen as she pulls it out, reading the caller ID and instantly recognizing her manager’s name. Hastily she hits the accept call button.

“Hello?” She says, tucking the wallet into her trench coat and mentally noting to find the gorgeous girl later (something that definitely excites her) as she begins to walk at a brisk speed back towards the way she came.

“It’s been fifteen minutes Joohyun!” Her manager cries, and Irene can already imagine his distressed expression as she quickens her pace to a light jog. “You have a photoshoot in less than an hour!”

“I know, I’m sorry, I’ll be there in a minute,” Irene promises, hanging up as she dodges a pedestrian, spotting the café up ahead and swiftly closing the gap between her and there, arriving with her cheeks only slightly red from the exertion. Her manager simply shakes his head when he spots Irene, motioning for her to enter the transportation van before walking around the vehicle to get in the passenger side.

“You’re late,” Sooyoung remarks with a smirk as Irene climbs in, her breath already having evened out by then.

“As if you don’t hold us up ninety percent of the time,” Joohyun snaps, sitting down beside Yerim and taking off her hat to fix her windblown hair.

Seulgi laughs as Sooyoung feigns offense, the two beginning to get into a friendly argument, Irene’s tardiness seemingly already forgotten.

“What took you so long?” Yeri asks after a few minutes, her eyebrows raised in question.

Joohyun turns from the window to face her maknae, a small blush spreading across her face as she’s reminded of the gorgeous girl from before. “I ran into,” Joohyun bites her lip. “Someone.”

“Someone you know?”

“No,” Irene says quietly. “She was a stranger.”

“Was she pretty?” Yeri questions with a mischievous look.

Irene huffs, beginning to get annoyed by the younger girl’s antics. “Yes.”

Yeri’s eyes widen and she lets out a loud and boisterous laugh, clapping her hands together, and Joohyun gets the feeling that Yerim has already figured out about her tiny crush. “Quiet down Yerim,” Irene hisses.

Yeri rolls her eyes but lowers her voice nonetheless. ”Do you know her name?”

Irene frowns as she realizes that no, she does not. “No,” Irene says, suddenly becoming aware of the weight in her pocket, and pulling it out. “But I have her wallet.”

“Did you steal it?” Yerim asks excitedly.

“What the- No!” Irene scowls, sparingly slapping Yeri on the back of her head. “She dropped it and I didn’t have time to give it back to her!”

“Lame!” Yeri teases, snatching the wallet from Joohyun and beginning to rifle through it, harshly elbowing the older girl when she tries to take it back. “Quit it Joohyun,” Yeri exclaims. “I’m looking for her ID, don’t you wanna know her name?”

“Whose name?” Wendy chimes in, Yerim’s sudden shouts having attracted her attention.

“Some hot girl Joohyun met earlier,” Yeri answers, causing Seungwan to chuckle, and Joohyun briefly buries her head in her hands.

“And her name is,” Yerim smirks, proudly holding up a driver’s license. “Holy shit, she is hot-“ Wendy peers over Yerim’s shoulder, nodding in agreement, and Irene pinches Yeri’s side causing her to squeal. “Sorry, her name is Kwon Y/n.”

Joohyun grabs the license and wallet from Yeri, and she smiles slightly as she sees the younger girl’s face, instantly deciding she likes the name Y/n, and feeling it fits the girl perfectly. “How am I even going to find her though?” Joohyun says with a sigh, putting both items back in her coat pocket.

Seungwan raises a brow, pulling out her phone. “You said her name was Kwon Y/n?” She presses her phone into Yerim’s lap. “Is this the right Hangul for Y/n?” Yeri nods.

“She works at the coffee shop a couple blocks away from the café we were just at,” Wendy says after a few minutes.

“How did you even figure that out?”

Wendy grins at Irene. “I’m the search king Joohyun!”

“Just call and see when she’s working,” Irene sighs.

///

Joohyun blinks wearily, rubbing the sleep from her eyes as she looks out the car window, watching as the cherry blossoms blend into one long pink stream, her head slowly bobbing along to the guitar riff of Molly Burch’s Downhearted, a song chosen by Seulgi, who had happily volunteered to take Joohyun (and Yerim) to the coffee shop after Yeri told her about Joohyun’s encounter last night.

“So are you excited?” Seulgi asks, reaching to turn down the music volume. “You haven’t liked a girl for like seven years.”

Joohyun glances in the rearview mirror, eyes landing on Yeri, who has her earbuds plugged in and seems to be blissfully unaware of everything around her. “I guess,” Irene says, crossing her arms. “And I’m going to graciously pretend you didn’t say that last part.”

Seulgi snickers. “As if it’s not true.”

“Whatever,” Irene mumbles, cranking the volume up and drowning out Seulgi’s laughs, choosing to focus on the passing scenery for the rest of the car ride, and doing her best to ignore the bubbling anxiety in her stomach.

“We’re here,” Seulgi says ten minutes later, and Irene laughs as her bandmate turns to throw a one hundred won coin at Yeri.

“What the fuck Seulgi!” Yeri exclaims, ripping out her earbuds and rubbing her head.

“You didn’t hear me when I said we’re here.” Seulgi smirks, unlocking the car doors and getting out with Joohyun following closely behind, clutching Y/n’s wallet.

Irene hears Yeri mumble a few more swear words before exiting the car, running to catch up with the two older girls, wearing a scowl on her face as Seulgi holds the door open for her with a teasing smile, and Yeri, in retaliation, stomps on the older girl’s foot, and the two instantly begin to bicker.

Ignoring the two girl’s antics, Irene slips into the shop, the faint smell of vanilla instantly entering Irene’s nostrils. For a second Irene looks around, admiring the creamy yellow walls that are covered in abstract paintings. Irene is pleased to see that no other customers inhabit the shop, the only visible person there besides the three Red Velvet members, being the blonde-haired female worker whose back is currently turned, and Irene silently observes her as she works, noting that they look to be shorter than even Wendy.

“Is that her?” Joohyun doesn’t get a chance to respond as Seulgi brushes past her, confidently walking up to the counter, and waving at the barista, who seems to have gone into shock, clearly having recognized the trio, all of them having decided earlier to not wear their face masks.

Irene’s eyes widen, rapidly shaking her head no and Seulgi’s cheeks redden as the barista lets out a high pitched squeal and grabs Seulgi’s arm, causing Yeri to laugh aloud as she sneakily pulls her phone out to film the moment.

“Minseo! Why are you screaming?” Joohyun‘s eyes flicker in the direction of the voice, a tall figure appearing from the back room wearing a frown, swiftly moving to remove her coworker from Seulgi with an apologetic grimace. Seulgi glances back at Irene, her eyebrows raised in silent question and Joohyun mouths a yes, her eyes falling upon Y/n, and she swears her heart flutters a little as she takes in the younger girl, who is wearing a low hanging bun that peeks out of the back of her hat, a look that Joohyun definitely appreciates.

“R-red Velvet!” The girl, Minseo, stutters out pointing first to Seulgi, then to Yeri, and finally Irene.

Y/n’s glances around at the three girls, her brown eyes briefly landing on Irene, a hint of recognition seeming to flicker in them before she turns back to her coworker. “Ah they’re that idol group you like, right?” Y/n says with a grin, patting Minseo’s back gently.

The smaller girl nods meekly, and Y/n chuckles, her gaze once again returning to Irene, who smiles gently in response. “I recognize your eyes,” She says suddenly, beaming at Joohyun. “You’re Joohyun, aren’t you? The girl I almost ran over yesterday and called about my wallet.”

Irene nods, holding up the wallet tossing it to the taller girl who catches it with ease, and Joohyun’s eyes widen as Y/n literally jumps the counter almost knocking Irene over as she is swept into a tight embrace, that Irene melts into, breathing in the girl’s scent, instantly relaxing and Joohyun decides there and then that her new favorite smell is whatever fabric softener Y/n uses.

“Minseo, please get these three any coffees they want.” Y/n says, releasing Irene, and Seulgi and Yeri who were taking a photo with Minseo high five, cheering loudly.

Joohyun shakes her head at this, watching in amusement as her two younger members excitedly order two dalgona coffees.

“What about you?” Y/n asks Irene, gently grabbing the older girl’s hand, and Joohyun jumps.

“I don’t like coffee,” Irene says, a blush rising to her cheeks.

Y/n cocks her head, seemingly confused before her face turns back to a large grin. “How about tea?”

“That would be great,” Irene says softly, her lips beginning to curve upwards as well.

“Oh, by the way,” Y/n says, leaning into Joohyun, and whispering into her ear, causing the older girl to shiver. “I hope this makes up for yesterday.”

Joohyun laughs at the taller girl, lightly poking Y/n‘s side and making her yelp. “It’s a start.” Joohyun jokes.

Y/n chuckles, her sparkling brown eyes moving to her blonde haired coworker who seems to be struggling with the coffee machine. “I should really go help her.” She says, directing Joohyun to a table. “Let’s talk more when we’re finished though.“

Irene nods, seating herself and watching as Y/n leaps back over the counter, joining Minseo and making a teasing remark at her coworker’s efforts.

“Yerim was right,” Seulgi says as she and Yeri sit down beside Joohyun. “She is hot.”

Joohyun’s cheeks go red as she kicks Seulgi under the table, the two swiftly beginning to fall into a friendly argument, all while Yerim watches, occasionally making witty comments of her own before quickly shutting up when the two older girls send her a warning glare, all of them suddenly coming to a silence as Minseo and Y/n reappear, drinks in hand.

“So you guys are idols?” Y/n asks as she sets Irene’s mug in front of her. “That’s so cool, I wish I had the talent for that!”

Irene glances at the younger girl, noting to herself that the girl definitely had the looks and body for an idol, but bites her tongue as she begins to open her mouth and say that, deciding it would be too straight forward.

However, to her left, Yerim smiles proudly, starting to tell Y/n all about Red Velvet and their latest comeback, while Joohyun silently listens along, watching as the steam rises from her tea in long, billowing, swirls, her thoughts returning to the feeling of y/n’s arms wrapped around her. Irene sighs, a feeling of contentment filling her as she takes a sip from her cup, realizing that from this angle she can once again smell Y/n’s flowery scent.

“What fabric softener do you use?” Irene asks suddenly and Yeri chokes on her coffee beside her, Seulgi begins to laugh at both girls before her phone rings and she politely excuses herself.

Irene sinks into her chair, feeling embarrassed, but Y/n simply smiles at Joohyun, and the older girl finds herself once again at ease. “I don’t know. I can see when I get home though.”

Irene beams at the younger girl appreciatively, and Joohyun swears she hears Yeri coo teasingly.

“Hey, you two” Seulgi says pointing at Joohyun and Yerim as she returns to the table. “We have to go, we have an interview in an hour.”

Yerim makes a whining sound, and Irene smiles sadly at y/n, swearing she can see a hint of disappointment lingering in the other girl’s brown eyes, and Joohyun’s stomach drops. Perhaps against her better judgment and knowing full well her manager would chide her for this if he found out, Irene pulls a pen from her purse, quickly scribbling her number on a spare napkin and pushing it towards the younger girl with newfound confidence. “Text me when you find out.” She says, following Yeri and Seulgi out.

And a couple hours later as Joohyun is getting her makeup retouched for a post-interview photoshoot, she receives a text.

I use Pigeon btw :)

Joohyun laughs and her makeup artist scolds her to keep still.

///

It’s a couple months later that Joohyun finds herself in Red Velvet’s shared dorm room, alone with Y/n, the rest of her members having agreed to go out for the night and leave the two alone to watch a shitty chick flick that only Y/n was really paying attention to, Joohyun being more focused on stealing looks at the gorgeous girl, who is currently allowing Irene to rest her head upon her shoulder.

Joohyun has come to realize that the twenty-four-year-old girl loves skinship and cuddling, something that Joohyun definitely doesn’t mind, and happily obliges to. But as Joohyun stares at Y/n, admiring her delicate features, Irene can’t help but feel a certain sadness.

Since her time at the coffee shop, Irene has only fallen harder for Y/n, and every day it seems to get more difficult for the brunette to ignore. With each melodic laugh of the younger girl or relaxed half-smile, Joohyun only wants to call Y/n her own even more, a fact that Y/n remains blissfully unaware of, despite the constant urges of Joohyun’s members who have also come to enjoy Y/n’s company.

Irene remembers her conversation with her bandmates last night, when she had first asked them to leave the dorm for the night, recalling how all the girls, even the troublesome maknae, seemed to agree that Y/n liked Joohyun just as much if not more. But still, Irene is unsure, not even knowing if Y/n likes girls.

“Rene!” Joohyun flinches as Y/n flicks a piece of popcorn at the older girl, smiling slightly at the nickname Y/n had begun to call her a couple weeks ago. “The movie is over. Should we watch another?”

Joohyun only looks at the younger girl, resisting the urge to reach out and trace Y/n’s soft-looking lips.

“Joohyun?” Y/n asks, brows furrowing as she waves a hand in front of Irene’s face. “Are you alive?”

Irene’s eyes widen. “Yeah,” She mumbles, “Sorry.”

“Alright,” Y/n says, moving so she’s facing Irene, taking the older girl’s hand in her own. “What’s wrong, you’ve been acting weird this whole week and your fingers are doing that twitching thing you do when you’re upset.”

Irene bites her lip, realizing that she has been acting off the past few days, a little more spacey than usual, and as she gazes into Y/n’s worried eyes, she sighs looking down into her lap. Joohyun‘s thoughts drift to the Daegu girl, who she had spent years pining over, simply because she was too afraid to do anything, and maybe it’s time, Irene thinks, to just get it over with and ask Y/n what she desperately wants to. To see if there is a chance, for Joohyun who has never had intimacy before, aside from a few quick flings, to find lasting love and comfort with Y/n, who could like girls.

However, Joohyun also knows the crushing side of that equation, realizing that there is also a chance that the younger girl does not like girls, and Irene is just a friend to her. But as Irene closes her eyes, focusing on her breathing, she pictures herself with Y/n, and she wants it so bad, her heart swelling with courage as she squeezes Y/n’s hand.

“Y/n,” Joohyun finally whispers after a long silence, glancing hesitantly into Y/n’s sparkling brown eyes. “Do you like girls?”

Irene can’t quite decipher the look Y/n gives her, but she can definitely feel the dread budding in her stomach as Y/n softly let’s go of Joohyun’s hand, moving it to rest on Joohyun’s thigh. “I like guys. But-“

Joohyun freezes at the younger girl’s words, wishing she could just disappear as a sudden iciness spreads through her body. Abruptly, Joohyun sits up, cheeks filling with embarrassment as she hurriedly moves away from Y/n, her body suddenly jerking to a stop as Y/n grabs her wrist, pulling the older girl close and pressing her lips against Joohyun’s. Irene hesitates at first, before beginning to kiss Y/n back, her fingers moving to tangle themselves amongst the younger girl’s hair. Joohyun bites down on Y/n’s lower lip, her tongue moving to explore Y/n’s mouth, causing her to let out a moan, a sound that makes Irene’s heartbeat quicken. Joohyun visibly frowns as Y/n slowly breaks away from Irene, a small smile beginning to spread across the younger girl's lips.

“You didn’t let me finish Joohyun,” Y/n laughs softly, her hands move to gently cup Irene’s delicate face. “I like guys, but I also like girls.”

And for some reason, Joohyun starts to cry.

///

Irene feels like a child again when she’s with Y/n. She feels that same joy she felt when she lived in Daegu, the happiness and innocence that she found herself missing last year finally found again, something she especially feels as she walks through the winding paths of her favorite park, hand tightly clutching Y/n’s.

“Thank you for coming,” Joohyun says as she and Y/n take a seat on a bench, Irene sighing contentedly as she watches the cherry blossoms trees shaking in the breeze.

Y/n nods, grinning broadly and reaching out to catch a falling flower. “Of course, you know I love visiting your hometown.”

Irene smiles at the taller girl, allowing Y/n to gently place a blossom behind her ear.

“I love you,” Y/n says, running her fingers through Joohyun’s hair which has been recently cut short.

Joohyun tilts her head, pulling Y/n into a soft kiss just as the April wind begins to pick up, sending the fallen cherry blossoms into a whirlwind of pink that seems to magically encapsulate the two girls, hiding them in their own world, even if only for a moment.

“I love you too,” Joohyun whispers.

And who better, Irene thinks, as she presses her lips to Y/n’s again, to share her favorite time of year with.

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