#I love that kind of casual but trendy look

[kenobion]

Andrew Garfield for GQ+Saint Laurent

#you know I had to do it #andrew garfield #my gifs #this video was a bit out there #but some of the themes mentioned in it (and the article) remind me of how Andrew talks about his mom #and upon realizing that it felt like the whole video made more sense #also I love how the article mentions how he loves both the skate/surf style and really formal attire #cause same #I love that kind of casual but trendy look #but also the idea of dressing in something incredibly swanky is so appealing #I wish someone would invite me to a fancy event and supply me with a really good suit #I just know it'd feel right #also the emotional depth Andrew has is incredible #it makes me wish to have a conversation about the way things are with him #ugh and he looks so good here too #he looks 100% like cuddle material in that sweater #please hmu anytime Andrew you beautiful being

[luciddownloading]

Astrology Observations: Scorpio Edition ☠️

🦂In doing these observations, I like breaking down the differences between the Sun, Moon and Rising in a sign. With Scorpio, I look at each as the different elements of a crime scene.

(These are analogies/metaphors, btw. Please don't take this literally)

Scorpio Rising is like the detective. They are investigators, obsessive thinkers, and will dig and dig until they find the info they need. It is very hard to hide around them because they will ask questions, get in your head, and figure out your motives. Most people don't know what they're doing and the extent of their manipulation. But, like the detective, this skill can be used for good.

Scorpio Sun is the murder victim. And, hold on, I am not saying they are weak or powerless. It's more so that the metaphorical "deaths" they have to endure end up shaping who they are. And, like a murder victim, they become very well-known for how they "died", whether it was through heartbreak, betrayal, career/financial loss, mental health struggles/breakdowns, etc. But, the good thing is that they learn that any kind of death is only a transformation.

Scorpio Moon is the killer. As nice and charming as this person may appear (and genuinely be), there is a fierce, sometimes even ruthless instinct within. It's just about learning how to destroy what needs to be killed off, in a positive/constructive sense. But, heaven help those who fuck around and find out. Like a killer, they can be both vaguely intimidating but also the last person you'd expect. Their dark or ferocious side can catch people off guard and that intensity is not only unmatched but can rage out of control if not managed.

(All three placements have a little of each archetype in them but each displays these respective energies the most)

🦂 People with Scorpio placements = love of horror movies. Most of the time, anyway. Especially Scorpio Sun, Moon or Rising. This obsession may begin young and even extend to a fascination with true crime. This is my Moon sign and I loved horror and serial killer documentaries so much growing up that I got side-eyed a few times lol. (But, now, of course, that's become trendy)

🦂 Scorpio Venus people are not necessarily the die-hard, super-serious, "I love you so I must breathe your oxygen" relationship types that they're made out to be. Some of them channel a lot of that intensity into the sexual part of relationships while remaining casual or emotionally unavailable otherwise. So, this placement can be as much of a player or serial dater as anyone. That just may not exactly be how they want to act deep down.

🦂 Those with Mercury in Scorpio usually have some skill with divination, whether or not they are tapped into it. They could make excellent astrologers or Tarot readers. Some of them are naturally good at spell work, as well, or could be skilled mediums or channelers.

🦂 There are two types of Scorpio Risings: 1) the ones who give you witchy or sexy vampire vibes (and who may identify with either archetype) 2) the ones who seem like adorable, harmless elfin/fae beings who are much more powerful than they initially appear.

🦂 Scorpio people look great in all black and this isn't limited to the Venus or Rising sign. It is a power move of sorts and a way to honor one's shadow self (which every self-respecting Scorpio person will thrive on). Also, try black boots, ultra-high heels for those who wear them, and anything sheer like mesh or lace.

🦂 Scorpio Moon people are either very naturally seductive/erotic/alluring (even if they don't try or aren't aware of it) or has the sex appeal of a bowl of mashed potatoes, even though they may try very hard to be sexy. Sexiness can vary with Scorpio people and does tend to exist in extremes. But, since the Moon is what comes instinctively, this is truest for them. They either have it or they don't.

🦂 Scorpio Mars people can be very, VERY petty. This is the lower expression of it. The evolved ones will have a past of vindictive behavior or holding ridiculous grudges but learn to rise above that. And I mean ridiculous grudges. Like, "you ate the last slice of pizza that I wanted two years ago and I haven't forgotten it".

🦂 Scorpio Suns and daddy issues go together like peanut butter and jelly. In most cases, either the father figure walks out on them or dies during their upbringing or they just have a super-complicated relationship.

🦂 It's hard to find a sign that is more proud of their sign than Scorpio. Virgo's may outdo them (because so many Virgos LOVE telling you they're a Virgo lol) but they're up there. This extends to the Moons and Risings, as well. They are quite likely to get a tattoo of the Scorpio symbol or a scorpion or phoenix or eagle.

#astrology #astrology observations #astro observations #scorpio #scorpio energy #scorpio placements #scorpio sun #scorpio moon #scorpio rising #scorpio mercury #scorpio venus #scorpio mars #scorpio stellium

[jisungsdaydreamer]

Anti-Romantic | CHAPTER ONE | 18+

«GENERAL M.LIST» · «NAVIGATION» · «TALK TO ME»

THE LOVE FRUIT

“Mangoes. A criminally overlooked aphrodisiac. People call it the love fruit, you know.”

«SERIES MASTERLIST»

Pairing: Hyunjin x Fem!Reader Genre: Non idol au, fluff, smut, romcom, drama, opposites attract Chapter Warnings: explicit sexual content, mentions of emotionally abusive ex, controlling friendships, heavy fantasizing, masturbation (m and f) graphic sex fantasy sequence (includes descriptions of intercourse), sitophilia (food play) Word Count: 16.3k

P.S. ♡ If you like my work, please consider giving me feedback in the form of reblogs, comments, and asks! ♡

“What is love?”

Hyunjin looks out at the expanse of eager minds in front of him, everyone blurring together in the darkened auditorium. He can’t see any of their faces, but it doesn’t matter. He’s only been on the stage for approximately thirteen seconds, but he already knows that they’re watching him in that familiar, delicious awe, quietly clawing at the sides of their seats in unbridled enthusiasm and desperation. And he can never blame them— Hyunjin’s kind of a catch. 

He tucks his hands into his navy bespoke Armani trousers, appreciating the feeling of the silky inner lining against his fingertips. Even with such a casual gesture, he’s the picture of elegance; tall, devastatingly handsome, and movements fluid yet calculated, like a prima ballerina. Hyunjin is the kind of beauty that poets waste their lives over, pining over the perfect arch of his cupid’s bow to the aristocratic slope of his nose. As classic as an Italian prince, as unique as the moon herself.

“No, but seriously. What is love?” Hyunjin repeats his question into the mic, once more gracing his enthralled viewers with the rich, seductive notes of his voice. “Is it an emotion, that signal in your brain? A cliche? A cult?”

The audience ponders his words with bated breath, and Hyunjin takes the opportunity to continue.

“Or maybe it’s all just… lust.” Hyunjin whispers the last word while holding eye contact with an unsuspecting victim in the front row. The girl trembles and blushes under his heated gaze, looking down at her shoes in an attempt to hide her frazzled smile. 

With a deliberate smirk, Hyunjin moves on to his next target in the audience. It can be anyone, yet another to fall for his endless charms. No one is immune. The cute reporter in the second row who will interview Hyunjin after he finishes his long awaited TED Talk. A wink. A lady in a big fur coat, old enough to be his grandmother. A beguiling smile. And even the stern looking security guard standing in the back. A brief, but loaded glance. Yep, Hyunjin doesn’t miss Guillermo’s cheeks turning red, even in this atrocious lighting.

A hesitant hand amongst the crowd slowly creeps upwards, bursting Hyunjin out of his momentary flirt bubble. “I think that love isn’t real.”

A smaller spotlight is immediately shined onto the timid speaker. It’s a boy in his early twenties, probably a junior in college, judging by his trendy sweatshirt and the freshness in his features. But that typical hopefulness is absent in his eyes, replaced with despair. 

Heartbreak. 

Hyunjin shoots the student a knowing smile. Because of his passion for the human mind, he had studied psychology in his own university days, before obtaining a doctorate and specializing in counseling— specifically, relationship counseling. He wears many different— and designer— hats: certified dating coach, therapist, and even researcher, when love needs to be approached as a neurological phenomenon in a laboratory setting. But his personal favorite role is being an expert on broken hearts. Something about being able to fix people satisfies the urge in Hyunjin to be the best, to be the brightest. What’s better than giving some of his light to someone who needs it?

“What’s your name?” Hyunjin steps closer to the edge of the stage, now fully focused on this poor fellow. Everyone else in the audience follows Hyunjin’s actions, curiously turning to get a better look of which lucky individual has been able to score a coveted interaction with Hyunjin. 

The boy clears his throat nervously. “It’s Jeongin.”

“Jeongin,” Hyunjin tests, liking the playful feeling of the syllables on his tongue. He decides that the name fits the young man perfectly. “Why do you think that love isn’t real?”

“Because if it can come and go so quickly, it can’t be real.” Jeongin squares his shoulders before sitting up, a new fire in his voice. “If love dies before it’s even born, it must be a joke.”

Well, well, well. 

Not only is this a broken heart, but this is a bitter broken heart— Hyunjin’s kryptonite, in the best possible way. Jeongin’s heart was soaring and then subsequently shattered, becoming one that Hyunjin is now dying to piece together, because there’s nothing he savors more than a challenge. 

“I’ll ask you this.” Hyunjin slips his right hand out of his pocket, running his fingers through his hair. In one smooth motion, the dark, tousled locks fall back into an alluring set of eyes. “Do you want to be happy?”

Jeongin shakes his head, visibly frustrated. “What?”

Hyunjin isn’t deterred. “Love isn’t limited to just one person, Jeongin. Not even people in general.”

“I still don’t understand.”

“Love is simply what makes us happy. It’s our unscratchable itch. Our insatiable need. Our comfort in crisis.” Hyunjin takes out the tiny metal laser pointer in his pocket and directs everyone to gaze at the massive screen looming behind him, flipping through the presentation that he prepared himself. Most of the high profile speakers at TED throw that task over to their personal secretaries, but then again, Hyunjin isn’t most people. 

A bowl of soup. A plate of pasta. A dish of chocolate cake. A stacked tower of choux pastry puffs. His audience, as Hyunjin calculated, is bemused with his choice of slideshow content, although Hyunjin is infamous as a loveable eccentric. These are all pictures and no words at all. 

“Is your passion cooking? Could you do it for the rest of your life? Will you just combust if you can’t whip up this croquembouche right this moment? That’s love.” Hyunjin lingers on the image of the French confection. “Love is what makes our cold nights warm again, the very driving force that pushes us to be the greatest possible versions of ourselves.”

If Hyunjin was any other speaker, the same onlookers would burst into laughter and walk away, muttering that he had lost his marbles. Who would try to make a point about the most confounding concept in all creation— the very entity that even the Stanford Encyclopedia of Psychology hesitantly attempted to define— with a series of pictures that belong in an episode of Chopped, not freaking TED? No one except Hyunjin, and rightfully so. It’s the reason why they all keep their backsides glued to the velvet upholstery, respectfully silent and anticipating being enlightened. 

“Love can be platonic, love can be romantic, love can be anything in this whole universe. Love is what makes us human. It reminds us that life is worth it, that after all, maybe there’s something left to fight for.” Hyunjin gives Jeongin a small, but sincere smile. “It’s why I’ve committed myself to helping people find it, to protect it.”

Jeongin sits back in his seat in acceptance, and Hyunjin knows that even though the inferno has just subsided, not been completely put out, the flames probably aren’t so scorching anymore. Maybe he’s scored himself a new client. 

Satisfied, Hyunjin turns back to the rest of his audience hungrily waiting for his eloquent scraps. “I’m Hwang Hyunjin. But you might know me as the Love Doctor.”

There are only so many episodes of Celebrity Wedding Disasters you can binge on Youtube before you begin to feel sick of yourself. Yes, watching freaking Brad Pitt get dumped at the altar makes you feel better about your own hopeless situation. But does it actually help your hopeless situation? No, it does not. Because watching other people suffer the same life as you does not solve your own problems. They’re all still there, at the end of the day, when you come home to an eerily quiet apartment, or in the morning, when you stretch out on your bed just to feel like you’re being swallowed up by the empty space next to you. 

And now? The sound playing from your computer speakers starts to melt into a drone, and the artificial lighting of the videos on the screen blurs your vision, augmenting the sagging under your eyes. You haven’t gotten up from your little space in the corner of your living room in eight hours, resorting to hunching over your computer and surrounding yourself with snacks in case you got hungry. You’re clad in an old pajama set that’s too small for you and wrapped in a blanket that should have been put into the washing machine weeks ago. For the time since you gave up trying to work, you’ve been huddled in a fetal position on your couch, staring at your computer screen with no aim, no purpose.

Bashful rays of light peak through the gaps in the curtains drawn closed over the windows, and the air conditioner sputtered and shut down hours ago, after months of you putting repairs off. And your computer has died, but you’re too lazy to reach over to the outlet and plug your charger back in. It’s a beautiful Saturday morning, and every other healthy young person is probably out doing something productive or fun, definitely not being cooped up in their apartments after a myriad of trashy videos. But you count your blessings that you aren’t in the worst circumstance, because anything is better than dealing with—

The telltale trill of your cellphone knocks you out of thanking your stars, a cruel coincidence to the appreciation you harbored just moments earlier for the divinities above. The only people who would call you at a time like this— your time— would be the only people who you really, really didn’t want to see right now. You don’t even have to check the caller ID before you’re answering the phone, your signature snark prepared to lash out at any unwelcome dialogue. 

“What?”

“Good morning to you too, Y/N,” Irene chirps, irritating you even further. “Lovely weather today. I’m with Sana and Mina.”

First, she interrupts your quality time brooding on your own, and second, she has the nerve to be cheerful about it. You try not to lose it and just scream at her to fuck off. 

“Let’s skip the small talk, Irene. Can I help you?”

You don’t hate Irene, nor Sana and Mina, for the matter. You’re just tired of their presence in your life. Once upon a time, you were enthralled by these three pretty, wealthy, and perfect girls, letting them take you in and guide you through your youth. A tight-knit group since they were in diapers, the girls wouldn’t let just anyone into their circle, so the fact that they chose you to join them made you feel special. Being a part of them felt like being welcomed into a genuine friendship, a sisterhood. There were horror movie marathons snuggled together in your dorm rooms, gossip and advice sessions on the phone, late night drives with the music blasting on the stereo. 

But that admiration and belonging turned into exhaustion, over time, and they became no better than a stereotypical high school clique. They were suffocating you, filling you with regret of ever meeting them at all. They couldn’t respect that you were your own person, with your own emotions, and that you solely were entitled to governing your actions. Little things built upon each other, and you slowly began to detest them. You truly found out how eroded your relationship with Irene, Sana, and Mina was almost two years ago. You were heartbroken, but all they had told you was to patch up and move on. Showing feeling and falling apart was unacceptable to the “Golden Trio,” as you came to call them, because it was “unhealthy” to them. Complete and utter happiness was always the goal, and you couldn’t bog yourself or the others down. Rest, rinse, and repeat. You came to realize that you would rather reject the good parts of the relationship rather than have your imperfections be dismissed and your life be controlled.

Before replying to you, Irene is quiet for a moment, and you swear you can hear her whispering to the other girls. “Are you still in bed?”

“No.” Technically, you aren’t lying— you’re on the sofa. 

She sighs, seeing straight through your bullshit like she always did, the unspoken ringleader of the whole entourage. “It’s nearly ten in the morning, honey. Why don’t you come out to brunch with us in an hour or so?”

You roll your eyes. You hate when Irene calls you “honey”— it sounds sweet but has the most condescending undertone. “I’m busy.”

“Busy doing nothing. We need to talk to you. Please, Y/N. It’s important.”

Although having yet another fussy and feathery brunch with the Golden Trio is the absolute last thing you believe to be important, you know you have no other option. Irene will keep pestering you until you relent, so it’s better to save yourself the time and just get it over with. Balling up your fist, you reluctantly respond. “Fine.”

“Great! See you soon!” Irene trills, ending the call before you can even say goodbye. Not that you even wanted to, anyway.

With an enraged groan, you flop off of your stomach and open the windows, letting in some fresh air and sunlight. As you gaze outside of your window, observing the city slowly wake up, all you want to do is wallow in your self pity and frustration. For the longest time, you’ve told yourself that you’re fine with being alone; love just isn’t in the cards for someone like you. So you threw yourself into your job, struggling towards achieving your dreams, but as of late, the path to your passion has become another burden in your life. 

Sighing, you shake away your thoughts and tidy up the living room, already put off by the microscopic chip crumbs on the coffee table and the way the throw pillows are strewn about on the rug. After everything is back in place, you make your way over to your room, silently noting that your sofa stay at least meant that you didn’t have to make your bed today. You take a shower and don yourself in your typical uniform of straight jeans, sneakers, and a boxy blazer. Cute, practical, and unassuming. 

Quickly, you scarf down some toast and orange juice, because you definitely will not be able to afford even half of the menu items at the usual restaurant that the Golden Trio dines at for brunch. Before you lock your apartment and leave, you check yourself out in the mirror in the small corridor that houses the entrance.

“Just in and out,” you say to your reflection. “Breathe.”

The drive to brunch is less than fifteen minutes. However, you make a few unnecessary turns around the block in your second-hand Subaru, not ready to face the Golden Trio just yet. 

At exactly eleven, Irene’s profile picture— a headshot taken by a professional photographer— pops up on your phone screen. You ignore it and swiftly find a parking spot among all of the luxury cars, muttering to yourself. The Terrace is an upscale eatery that the Golden Trio frequents for weekend brunches, and you’re unfortunately roped into their plans more often than not. You walk into the restaurant, dodging a businessman in a costly-looking suit and a group of renegading TikTok influencers trying to take pictures. You take your time greeting Keeho, the hilarious UCLA student who hosts at The Terrace during the weekends. And then you scan the outdoor dining patio, as if you don’t already know the location of the Golden Trio’s preferred table by the edge of the patio, the one with the perfect view of the Hollywood sign in the distance.

“Y/N!” Sana gasps in faux surprise as you take your seat next to her. “So nice of you to join us… thirteen minutes late.”

You clench your jaw and force a smile. “Oh, well, you did just call me an hour ago, so.”

Sana returns your sarcasm with an aggressive beam, showing off all of her perfectly aligned, blindingly white teeth. Mina watches the venomous exchange in amusement, while Irene just rolls her eyes.

“Let’s get to the point, ladies.” Irene leans forward, and the other two follow suit, like they always do. 

You stay put in your chair, comfortably leaning back, like you always do. “I’d love to know why you called me to brunch, Irene. You know this isn’t my scene.”

“Nothing besides your damn computer is your scene,” Mina retorts, sipping on her mimosa. Irene purses her lips to hide her grin, while Sana openly cackles.

You glower at them, saying nothing. The Golden Trio sat around the array of gourmet dishes like hens around a feeding hopper, craning for the best cuts and chances of picking on you, as usual. 

“Can you just stop wasting my time and tell me why I’m here?” You take a swig of water, already counting down the minutes until you can make up an excuse and leave early.

The girls exchange knowing glances before Irene zeroes in on you. Even though she’s the oldest out of all four of you, she still looks the most stunning, with her cherry lips and elegant features.

“Y/N, we’ve been thinking that it’s time for you to find someone.” Irene reaches across the table and grasps your hands, making you cringe in surprise. 

You raise an eyebrow at Irene, already dreading what path this conversation is taking. “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean.” Irene delicately cuts into her vegetable omelet, taking a small bite. “We just want you to be happy. And we know that it’s been hard, ever since Jisung.”

At the mention of your ex-boyfriend, you wrench your hands out of Irene’s grip. “Don’t you dare bring him up.”

Mina smacks her lips, nonchalantly reapplying her magenta lipstick. “I told you that she’d be angry.”

Irene sighs, massaging her temples. “Be reasonable, Y/N. This is for your own good. You’ve been alone for too long.”

“That is not for you to decide.” You nearly want to laugh out loud at this point. “This is my business. Not yours.”

But then again, the girls have never been able to respect your own feelings. You are their puppet to string along and their doll to dress up. To them, you’re not a real human being, capable of making your own decisions— both good and bad.

Two years ago, you were dumped by your first and last boyfriend, Park Jisung. It was a traumatizing relationship, to say the least. For all your life, you’ve struggled with romance and just the whole idea of intimacy, of getting close to someone and truly letting them see you. Jisung had taken your fragile heart, the one you had so cautiously extended to him, and shattered it on the ground. 

The months you were with him were so full of emotional abuse on his part, that by the time you caught him cheating on you, you weren’t even surprised. You’d pathetically begged him to stay, crying that you’d forgiven him, but after his initial apologies, he’d left you. What made you the angriest wasn’t the anguish he had caused you. It was how he’d gotten the last word, breaking up with you and leaving you behind to rot. You swore that you would never let someone do that to you again. Everyday, you go to bed alone and wake up alone. Every single day, and you don’t have any intention of changing that.

“Of course not,” Sana says, stabbing viciously at her eggs and making you wince. “But you know, appearances matter.”

Irene shakes her head. “Honey, this lonely, mopey look doesn’t suit you. Johnny says that people are talking, saying that you’re some sort of recluse.”

You scoff, blood boiling at the thought of Irene’s fiancé. He grew up on his father’s bottomless wallet and was no better than any stereotypical rich playboy. All he did was run his mouth and on occasion, his damn country club that you couldn’t even afford to step inside.

“She kind of is a recluse,” Mina interrupts. “Like, just get a life, maybe?”

Mina’s words sting, like they always do. But you refuse to give her the satisfaction, instead answering Irene. “I couldn’t care less about Johnny Suh and what his useless friends at the club are saying. I’m fine how I am.”

Sana dabs at her mouth with her napkin, careful not to smudge her makeup. “You’re not, though.”

Irene glares at Sana, shutting her up, before turning back to you. You recognize the look in her eyes; that soft, cajoling pull that makes anyone do her bidding. That look is why you had not left this toxic company yet, but you’re starting to feel the effect of it slowly wear off.

“Y/N. Just hear me out.” Irene sorts through her violet Kate Spade tote bag, before pulling out a business card and handing it to you.

In spite of yourself, you take the card, feeling the thick, rich quality of the paper, and the gold lettering.

“Dr. Hwang…” You read out loud. “‘The Love Doctor?’ What the hell?”

“He’s a relationship therapist and dating expert. He also runs a matchmaking service and coaches his clients.” Irene explains.

“I have eyes. I can read the card, Irene,” you spit out, turning the paper around in your fingers. “And I definitely don’t trust anyone recommended by you. Especially not some corny weirdo called the ‘Love Doctor.’”

“Oh, get over yourself, Y/N. I know a billion trainwrecks that Dr. Hwang has fixed.” Mina shudders in thought. “He’s pretty good, you know?”

“No, actually. I don’t know. I don’t know anything about this stupid Love Doctor.” You grind your teeth, desperately trying not to slap some sense into Mina. “I’m not going to trust a stranger with all of my thoughts… my fears, my hopes.” 

“This is such a waste of time,” Sana whines, getting up from her seat and smoothing out her dress. “I’m going to go talk to Chris. BRB, girls.”

Sana flounces away in the direction of the hot bartender mixing and pouring drinks for patrons. Mina rolls her eyes, picking at her acrylic nails.

“She literally has a boyfriend,” Mina huffs, before getting up and following after her. 

You turn back to Irene. “Is that how you want me to be? Both Sana and Mina are in relationships, except one pretends to not have a boyfriend, and the other is too bitchy to care about hers.”

“You’re not wrong.” Irene lets out a hearty chuckle, tracing the rim of her champagne flute. “But no one outside of our circle really knows about what’s going on with them, behind the scenes. They’re still perfect.”

“Why does it matter so much? Being perfect? Why does it matter so much to you if I am?” You question her, at a loss.

“I care about you.” Irene folds her hands in front of her plate. “You’re my friend.”

Friend.

That word takes you back to a few years ago, when you weren’t able to find a date to the frat party Johnny threw when you were all in college. You failed to follow Irene’s instructions, and as the expected result, Irene didn’t bother saying anything to you. You felt her anger through her silent treatment, as you stood by the door, feeling like a loser. You watched the rest of the Golden Trio giggle with their own dates, and Irene— no matter how big of a crush she used to have on Johnny before they became an item— was staring at you all night, soaking in your shame and unhappiness. You should have realized back then that the Golden Trio was just gilt. At least, you have now.

You snort in wry amusement, grabbing your keys and slapping down a fifty on the table, your general portion of the meal you didn’t even partake in. “I don’t know what I am to you, but I’m definitely not your fucking friend.”

Ignoring Irene’s pleas hitting your retreating back, you leave The Terrace, vowing never to go back.

On the weekends, you usually either work from home or aimlessly surf the internet. Either way, you’ll be staring at your computer until your eyes hurt. Today, however, you’re determined to prove that you can take a day off and enjoy it. It’s why you walk out of the luxury salon after being scrubbed, steamed, waxed, plucked, and primped all over your body. You don’t even want to think of how expensive it all was, completely disregarding the shiny $200 acrylics adorning your nails. 

You spend the rest of the day browsing a vintage bookstore on the Los Angeles marina, devoutly avoiding the romance section like you always did. After splurging on a set of horror novels by the latest trending author, you decide to go home and relax— just because you aren’t outside doesn’t mean you’re moping around, unlike what the Golden Trio believes. 

Who needs some hotshot Love Doctor when you’ve got Stephen King?

Sitting back on your couch with your book, you kick out your legs in front of you and attempt to unwind. But of course, you’re one line into the first page when your thoughts get the better of you. You glance across the open-concept layout of your apartment and over at your handbag, which is haphazardly strewn onto your bed; the business card that Irene gave you seems to be an incessant force in your mind. After a few seconds of trying to fight the urge to not let your curiosity best you, you give up, rolling off the sofa and rummaging through the bag to find the card.

Palming the small piece of paper, you settle onto your bed on your stomach, dimming the lights and logging into your computer. You type in the website address listed on the card into Google, impatiently tapping on the mouse. Finally, the page loads.

Your vision is blessed by a soft palette of pinks and beiges, a sparkling layout, flashy buttons and graphics, all designed to reel in even the most technologically inept grandparents. But that’s not what you’re enticed by: a giant picture of the most beautiful man that you have ever laid eyes on is pasted onto the main cover of the website. Immediately, you read further only to find out that this total babe is the Love Doctor that Irene couldn’t shut the fuck up about.

You zoom in on the bio printed below the image, devouring it like the King novel you should be reading instead right now. “What the…?” 

Dr. Hwang Hyunjin is a lot of things: a relationship therapist, intimacy expert, dating coach, psychology researcher, and etc. But the title that truly encapsulates his essence is: the Love Doctor, the savant who leads his clients through the pains and triumphs of life, loss, and of course, love. 

After graduating from Columbia University summa cum laude and obtaining his doctorate in psychology at Stanford, Dr. Hwang founded SeoulSpark, a practice dedicated to providing guidance and opportunities for any with those special ailments of the heart. The rest of Dr. Hwang’s credentials and outstanding achievements are listed below. In his freetime, Dr. Hwang loves to write poetry, go horseback riding, and take long walks on the beach. 

Appointments must be reserved through the ‘Bookings’ page. Dr. Hwang and his associates may be requested on the basis of availability. 

A few minutes of getting sidetracked in an internet stalking session alerted you to how in addition to overseeing his own private practice and working there as a therapist and coach, Dr. Hwang also operates a clinical trial on the neuropsychological approach of studying the nature of love at the National Institutes of Health. And to top it all off, he comes highly recommended by Selena Gomez in her latest Vogue interview— turns out, he’s the one who helped her move on from Justin Beiber and find a more gratifying partner— and has even met with Michelle Obama over tea on NPR’s Life Kit podcast to discuss the psychology of relationships. He’s a public figure, a celebrity of sorts himself, but has graciously rejected the title in favor of a more private life.

“Wow,” you murmur. “So he’s hot and smart.”

Irene and her sidekicks are wrong about a lot, but one thing they are right about is that you’re just absolutely lonely. Growing up, you were a hopeless romantic who constantly dreamed of a fairytale romance, romanticizing every aspect of your interactions with others. But a lifetime of being unlucky in love taught you that there is no such thing as true love. 

First, there was a series of unfortunately unrequited crushes in high school, all ending in you watching the boy you liked ride off into the sunset with someone else— usually a popular, pretty girl. Then came Holland, the cute boy in your calculus class who seemed like he actually returned your feelings. You both flirted for a while, before Holland ended up secretly coming out to you as gay. And of course, there was Jisung, the dirtbag who told you he loved you and then proceeded to break your heart. Love obviously isn’t on the cards for you.

Therefore, you’re now an insufferable pessimist when it comes to romance. You make fun of every couple you see in public, religiously watch wedding fails on Youtube, and absolutely hate romantic comedies. You stonily ignore the Tinder app that Mina once pressured you into downloading, even though it’s burning a hole into your phone.

You try to fill up that void in your heart by throwing yourself into work or participating in those idiotic “girls nights” that Irene throws, which usually just entail grinding up on drunk trust funders on someone’s yacht. 

But on a night like this, you’re bound to confront the truth: you are alone, and deep inside, you know you don’t want to be, no matter how much you pretend you don’t care. Which is why you let the computer cursor hover over the various appointment time slots, considering registration.

Wait, what? You shoot up from your previous position, sitting straight as every ounce of lethargy exits your body. You cannot actually be thinking of this guy’s services, especially when the recommendation came from Irene. But then again, do you really want your decisions to be determined by her? Do you care enough about spiting her that you’ll prevent your own happiness? What if this Love Doctor actually works?

With a groan, you go back to scrolling through Dr. Hwang’s bio once more, weighing your options, when you notice a link at the bottom of the page. You click on it, and it takes you to a video uploaded on Youtube. The bold, glaring red letters and the dark, dramatic backdrop alert you to a TED talk— and a very cherished one, too, with how thunderous the applause is when welcoming the speaker.

Intrigued, you sit forward, promising yourself that your assessment of Dr. Hwang’s TED talk will determine whether or not you’ll see both his physical and evidently intellectual gorgeousness in real life or not. However, from the very first question that he utters, you know your decision.

“What is love?”

You’re sweaty. You’d like to blame it on the unforgiving Los Angeles heat, but you once read that seeing a therapist is like owning your truth. You want to start being honest even before you meet Dr. Hwang, so you accept that the dampness under your arms is due to the fact that you are just really fucking nervous.

After tossing and turning in your bed all night, you tried your best to look presentable. You showered, blow-dried your hair, and put on minimal makeup reserved for special occasions. But the pretty yellow sundress and sandals that you chose— in the spirit of being symbolically optimistic— feel elementary right now, especially now that you’re setting foot inside the most glamorous office you have ever encountered. 

Upon observing the magnificently dripping crystal chandelier adorning the ceiling, marble flooring that you’re afraid of scuffing, and a jazz rendition of “Clair de lune” playing in the background, you’re convinced that this place is much too luxurious to be a shrink’s company space. Hell, it’s on the ninth floor of one of the ritziest buildings downtown. But, then again, you definitely weren’t expecting the person that Irene recommended to be this otherworldly adonis, instead of some kind of Karen ready to lecture you about having a “healthy love life” or “putting out”— yes, you do watch too much TV and have quite the imagination, so you try to keep your judgements and lofty expectations to a minimum. 

After signing-in with the receptionist— this sweet guy with freckles, sunny blond hair, and an even sunnier disposition— you sit down on the white leather sofa in the lobby. According to the brochure you swiped at the front desk, this place is so big that it has separate wings, like the freaking Hogwarts castle: one for therapy and coaching— or “guidance”— one for matchmaking services, and one for “health,” where clients and employees alike can rewind and socialize. Following a few minutes of rapidly swiping through the home screen and apps on your phone, trying to look occupied and definitely not intimidated by everything, the receptionist calls your name and directs you to Dr. Hwang’s office.

You know you’re incredibly lucky to have scored a session with Dr. Hwang, who’s obviously the most sought-after on the full list of all who work at SeoulSpark. Last night, when you were scouring SeoulSpark’s Yelp reviews (all of them were five-stars), people were raving about Dr. Hwang. Yet, as you walk through the luxe little corridor that leads you to the guidance sector, you can’t help but feel the regret that unfurls in your stomach. Perhaps you were subconsciously following Irene’s orders, that natural instinct to follow and not think still manifesting. Perhaps you were just enticed by Dr. Hwang’s visuals and repertoire. Or maybe, you just wanted to do something with your damn time for once, instead of constantly thinking about how sucky your life is. Either way, this all feels like a mistake, but it’s too late to turn back now, especially since the woman that you assume is Dr. Hwang’s assistant has spotted you.

She gets up from her desk. “Hello there! You must be Y/N.”

“That’s me!” You exclaim, in a way that probably seems too enthusiastic to be genuine. Your eyes trail to the name badge pinned to the lapel of her stylish cream-colored pantsuit. “It’s nice to meet you, Ms. Jang.”

“Likewise,” she says with a friendly smile that just accentuates her flawless features. 

Is everyone who works here just ridiculously attractive?

“Dr. Hwang is all ready for you.”

You quickly thank her, wiping your sweaty palms on your skirt and praying you don’t look scared. The last thing you want to do is freak out your potential therapist with your horrendous love life, even though his literal job is to deal with basket cases of romance. Taking in a deep breath, you warily place your hands on the grand pair of frosted glass doors adjacent to Ms. Jang’s desk and push them open. 

A cool gust of air welcomes you into Dr. Hwang’s office, and the first thing you notice is the blinding natural light flooding from the floor-to-ceiling windows. The one time you ever visited a therapist was immediately after the whole ordeal with Jisung; the cramped little room filled with wilted potted plants and dim light from a depressing yellow lamp had made you want to never see another therapist again. This place, however, looks more like one of those glitzy workspaces straight out of a Manhattan legal drama. You can practically see the dollar signs stamped onto everything here, from the panache but tasteful L-shaped sofa to the sultry modern art adorning the blush-colored walls. But the impeccable interior design is not what has got you temporarily incapacitated—

“I hope I haven’t kept you waiting too long.”

A voice as smooth as his honeyed skin and perpetual charm. A fresh breath of air in the merciless Californian heat that constitutes your entire life. A tidal wave upon the drowsy coastline of your heart. Absolute sin in your undeserving ears. You ponder what language even is, if you’ve never heard anyone articulate their entire aura like this in a mere jumble of words. Dr. Hwang smiles at you warmly— a sight that should remind you of a toasty cup of hot chocolate, but instantly spreads a raging, insatiable wildfire through your nerves. 

You speechlessly stay rooted to the spot like a damn oak tree as Dr. Hwang approaches you, with the controlled movement and dripping allure of a jaguar. As he nears you, you have to blink multiple times to adjust to how truly dazzling he is, and how the pictures of him online cannot even compare to his person. You would not hesitate to believe him if he claimed that he walked here straight off the runway, but his beauty is rapturous, less of an airbrushed model and more reminiscent of a Botticelian masterpiece. 

Maybe Charles Dickens was wrong— you see everything you want in the glittering multitude that makes up Hyunjin’s eyes. Big, soulful, contemplative. A gaze like a midnight reverie. A radiance like black diamonds encased in velvet. They reel you in like you’re silk thread and he’s a needle, like you’re an astronomer and he’s the entire galaxy. You take in the mole under his left eye, and it reminds you of a stray splatter of dark paint on an ivory canvas. It’s enchanting, like a lone star in the night sky.

“You’re good.” You barely manage, now focused on his lips that are just begging to be kissed. A delicate pink, like the lingering stain after eating cherries. Full and inviting, soft with the promises of a good time. On your own lips. On your skin. On your neck. 

Those pretty lips curve into an enigmatic smile, Cheshire-like almost. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Y/N.”

The way he pronounces your name so eloquently sends a spark straight through your body. You never thought much of your name, but with how Hyunjin says it, it might as well be one of those irresistible words that Pinterest logophiles save. It sounds lovely, ethereal, sublime. Just like him.

“And you as well, Dr. Hwang.” You inhale deeply, trying to calm yourself down, but instead, you get a breath full of his scent; he smells like a rainstorm over a field of jasmine. Tantalizingly petrichor, with a slightly floral and sensual edge. 

“Please, call me Hyunjin.”

“O-okay, Hyunjin.” A bewitching name for an even more bewitching man.

Hyunjin gestures for you to sit down on the sofa and positions himself on the chair behind his desk, a smoke-cracked glass piece arranged in front of a transparent wall that provides breathtaking views of downtown L.A. You can only imagine what the views are like at night— the city lights, of course. Definitely not of Hyunjin pushing you onto his costly desk and doing you in the dark.

“So, Y/N, darling,” Hyunjin begins, spreading his hands out on the desk in front of him. 

Darling?! Ohmyfuckinggod.

You cough. “Sorry?” 

“Tell me anything. Impressions, ruminations. Just be honest.”

That’s new and different. You thought Hyunjin would dole out the usual pleasantries, like “how are you” or “the weather is nice,” not ask you to “be honest.” What kind of person expects blatant candor after knowing them for literal seconds? Well, a therapist, probably. And a very eccentric one, at that. So you blurt out the first thing that comes to your mind. 

“Everyone here seems so… happy. It’s weird.” The hot receptionist, Hyunjin’s secretary, and even the janitor wiping the floors in the lobby.

Hyunjin lets out a hearty laugh, his eyes squinting into a crescent moon shape that you find very endearing. “Well, they seem happy because they are. Happiness isn’t rare.”

“Feels like it most of the time,” you mutter, your thoughts flashing over to work, Irene, and all of the times that you eat dinner alone. 

“That’s why you’re here, no?” Hyunjin folds his hands. “Talk to me.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be asking me questions? And I answer them? Isn’t that what most therapists do?”

“I’m not like most therapists. This is how it begins.”

Of course you aren’t. 

As you hesitate, Hyunjin keeps quiet patiently while letting your thoughts unfurl. Maybe it was Jisung, or maybe it was being constantly let down by the people around you, but somewhere along the way, you lost trust in others— you wouldn’t ever let them see who you really are. Ever since, you’ve put up your guard walls, harboring a testy, stormy attitude that scares anyone away before they can ever leave you behind. You put up with the Golden Trio’s nonsense because although they practically used you for their own enjoyment, at least they had never withdrawn for you. You don’t hate yourself, but you don’t feel content with who you are. You never knew if you really would be. 

And you don’t know Hyunjin. To you, he’s the man whose photos you pored over on Google, the one who you held a sparse conversation for a matter of mere minutes. You shouldn’t want to be exposed in front of him, but you know you already are, with the way his piercing gaze seems to see right through you. For the first time, you don’t hate the feeling of being vulnerable. You don’t know if it’s the kindness in his bedroom eyes that haven’t strayed from you, or if it’s the warmth that even someone as regal as him exudes, but you embrace the feeling of security that his presence wraps you in. Like your inhibitions are drowning in the distant crevices of your mind. You don’t know what it is that compels you to tell this beautiful stranger anything, but for once, you don’t question it.

“I’m just so tired of my damn life.”

The words come out of you in a rush, a sob, almost, because it feels so good to finally say it out loud. You’ve kept your dissatisfaction inside of you for the longest time, just pretending that the grumpiness is part of your personality, not your sadness, because you’ve always been afraid of what people would say. But when you peek up at him, Hyunjin’s expression betrays nothing. Placid, and waiting for you to go on. So you do.

“Nothing seems to be working. I try, try, and try to do better at work, but lately, even my dream job feels like a burden. I don’t really have any friends. I’m single. I act like I’m fine, but I’m really not. I don’t want to feel like this, like I’m trapped. I don’t want to give Jisung that much power over me, but unfortunately, he does have it all.” A huge weight has been lifted off of your drooping shoulders, but the bitterness still remains on your tongue.

Hyunjin takes a moment to finish up whatever notes he’s jotting down in his cream-colored journal, before looking up at you. “And Jisung is your ex?”

You freeze. You didn’t even realize that you brought up Jisung, and even worse, you completely overlooked how he probably knows a lot more about you than you think. After registering for an appointment, you were redirected to fill out this short quiz filled with questions about your romantic history, your job, and basic information. Like a slightly intruding business dinner in the form of a questionnaire. You couldn’t finish the form without getting slightly tipsy on wine, because of how gut-wrenching it was reliving everything. You forgot that your coach would have access to your answers, after brushing it all off as a silly formality. And you really thought this would all be genuine.

You scoff, shaking your head in disbelief and skepticism. “You already know, Dr. Hwang. Why bother asking me? You have my questionnaire results. You think I’m hopeless. You’re just being polite.”

“Hyunjin,” he corrects, undeterred by your words. “And I actually don’t. I look at the results after I meet with my clients. I would rather garner my first impression of you on the person you really are, not through an online quiz.”

“Then how did you know that Jisung’s my ex?” 

Hyunjin’s eyes crinkle with tenderness. “It wasn’t very difficult. He hurt you, I can see it.”

You swallow harshly, overwhelmed both by the thought of Jisung and the way Hyunjin’s looking at you right now. Compassion, gentleness, understanding. A complete foil to the constant indifference and borderline aversion Jisung treated you with. Right now, you don’t feel ugly, even with your scars so raw, open. You feel seen. You realize that Hyunjin has a way of getting you to open up by saying very little.

“He was my first boyfriend. First love, first kiss, first… well, you know.” You pause, blushing at the words that have escaped your mouth, but continue in spite of your shame. To hell with it. “He made me feel wanted, for once. I mean, I’ve literally been a fake date for my gay ex-situationship, and the first time I tried to get into a real relationship, which was with my former neighbor, he ghosted me after two dates. And then he moved away. Jisung… he gave me everything I thought I needed.”

You look up at Hyunjin, unsure. The tears are already shining in your eyes, threatening to spill out. Hyunjin nods encouragingly, pushing you on. 

“We were together for almost a year. And the entire time, he gaslighted me into doubting myself. He always kept cheating on me, I knew that. But I finally caught him screwing his assistant in my bed, right before we broke up.” You close your eyes. “No, before he broke up with me. God, my friends were right. I am so pathetic.”

Hyunjin sets his pen down firmly on the glass table, making you open your eyes. His starry gaze is intense, like that all-too-familiar inferno settled inside of you. “Darling, those are no friends of yours. There’s nothing pathetic about believing in someone, for putting your faith in them. Don’t ever say that again.”

“Right. Because I didn’t tell him over and over again that I forgave him. I didn’t beg him to stay, when he said he was tired of me. When he wanted new things.” You let out a dry laugh. “When it was over, everyone acted like I fumbled. Hell, he works at SM Technologies. Rich, handsome, well-connected.”

“Fuck that hack. That’s not why you loved him, though,” Hyunjin insists, his explicit language surprising you. Even in this way, he seems more poised than you ever could be. “You loved him because he made you feel loved. He accepted you. You lowered your standards for him, and he used you.”

You turn your head away from Hyunjin, not wanting him to watch you cry. But you know he’s already seen the tears streaming freely down your cheeks. “So, are you supposed to help me move on from here? Find someone new? SeoulSpark has matchmaking services, right? I mean, it’s been two years, and I’m still not over it. Sorry I’m a fucking antiromantic.”

It’s Hyunjin’s turn to shake his head. “Darling, you’re misunderstanding me. I don’t help my clients find relationships. I don’t care if you walk out still single or if you’re polyamorous. I care that you’re happy, satisfied with who you are, romantically. I’m here to guide you through that. Let me help you.”

The tears that had dripped so effusively onto your skin dry as Hyunjin holds your gaze, studying your features and saying nothing. And then your stomach chooses that inopportune moment to grumble, and very loudly indeed. In that astoundingly mortifying moment, you swear to never, ever skip breakfast again.

Hyunjin clears his throat, rising from his seat. “Where are my manners? Would you like something to drink? Or eat, maybe?”

“Um, a mango?” You don’t know why, or how, but your brain just zeroes in on mangoes. You don’t even like the damn fruit. Who the fuck would specifically ask for mangoes, instead of something reasonable, like coffee, or tea? You glare up at the ceiling, cursing your emotional dry spell for making you act so embarrassingly. 

But Hyunjin just smiles. “Mangoes. A criminally overlooked aphrodisiac. People call it the love fruit, you know.”

You gulp. Now you’re imagining Dr. Hwang— er, Hyunjin— chopping up a bunch of whole mangoes like he’s in Fruit Ninja, before erotically eating each slice, licking at the flesh, juice slowly dripping down that chin sculpted by the gods. Two seconds ago, you were crying about your evil ex and now you’re dreaming about Hyunjin starring as some sort of a seductive sensei.

What the fuck?!

“Oh. Yeah, I didn’t know that.”

Hyunjin is unfazed by your awkwardness, simply walking over to the pink-pastel minifridge in the corner of his office and bringing out a paper bowl of unfortunately pre-cut mangoes that you accept gingerly. “Enjoy.”

“Thank you.” You cautiously place a cube of mango in your mouth.

Your eyes suddenly widen at the sweet yet tangy explosion of flavor on your tongue. Creamy yet juicy, refreshing yet indulging, just succulent on your lips. Hyunjin giggles at your amazed reaction to the fruit. “Do you like it?”

“Yes.” You chew on the tart skin of the mango and swallow. “Do you know where your secretary might have bought this?”

“Wonyoung didn’t buy it, I did.” Hyunjin grins, sipping on his own glass of water. “5-Star Grocery. I went just today, actually.”

You finish off the rest of the fruit in no time, swiping the mango residue on your fork clean with your lips. When you’re done, you look up from the bowl to see Hyunjin gazing intently at you. You were probably taking forever to eat, and he was waiting for you. “Oh, sorry about that. This was really good.”

Hyunjin shakes his head vigorously. “No, no, it’s not that.”

You curiously tilt your head at him, wondering what’s got him so worked up. “Did I say something, Dr. Hwa- I mean, Hyunjin?”

“No, you didn’t.” Hyunjin stands up and takes your bowl, throwing it away in the disposal for you. “Let’s get back to our conversation.”

You nod, your thoughts fluttering back to Jisung, the ache replacing the lust that reigned inside of you, moments earlier. “I have tried to see other people, but it’s been hard.”

“How so?” Hyunjin clicks on his pen, putting it in a position ready to write.

You toy with the hem of your dress, your face heating up. “I tried using Tinder. I even matched with this one guy, San. We got dinner. But later that night, when… when we were about to um, have sex, I just couldn’t. San was really nice and understanding about everything, but I felt so bad. I’ve only slept with one person before, Jisung, and I don’t know. It’s so humiliating.”

Hyunjin frowns. “You have nothing to be ashamed of. First, it’s normal to be wary of intimacy after a long-term relationship. And second, we all have varying levels of sexual comfort. You’ll find your own pace. Our sexuality is essential to our health, and there’s nothing humiliating about it.”

“It’s not like I’m not experienced, though,” you say quickly.

Hyunjin looks up from his notepad and raises an eyebrow at you. You sputter over your impulsive words and try to explain. “It’s just that I have trouble being vulnerable with others, both physically and emotionally. There was only Jisung. And he wasn’t that good at it, to be honest. But I thought it shouldn’t stop me from finding out by myself what I like. That’s all.”

For a second, you think Hyunjin will make fun of you, but he just solemnly nods. “Absolutely. I always tell my clients this. There’s nothing wrong with masturbating. It’s incredibly healthy, whether or not you’re in a relationship.”

You exhale shakily, your cheeks aflame. You know it’s his literal job, but you can’t help but feel both admiration and jealousy at how straightforward Hyunjin is while talking about sex. His whole aura seeps with confidence, like it comes easily to him. Your self-consciousness could never. “Right.”

He sighs in thought, scribbling into your notepad as you restlessly wait for him to say something, fidgeting in your seat. Hyunjin then sets his notepad aside, logging into his sleek Apple iMac computer and rapidly typing into it. “I have something for you to do, darling.”

You immediately tense at the thought of more work, especially if Hyunjin is going to be your grader. “Like, homework?”

Hyunjin laughs. “No. Think of it as a fun little task. Remember, nothing I ask you to do is obligatory. You choose to be here.”

“Alright, let’s hear it.” You square your shoulders like a soldier. Whatever your assignment is, you’re going to knock it out of the park and impress Hyunjin. Definitely because you look up to him as a person, not because you want him to rail you into the next century.

Hyunjin leans forward, like he’s about to indulge you with a delicious secret, and you find yourself doing the same. “I want you to write down on paper one thing you love about yourself every day of the week, starting today. Bring the sheet to me when we meet again next week.”

You sit back, your heart sinking while your mind wakes in panic. And of all things, the assignment has to be this. You could fib your way through it, of course, jotting down the stupid, trivial aspects of yourself that aren’t so bad. But considering it all, asking yourself that question would really make you face the ugly truth: do you even love yourself?

“Wait, what do you mean? Like, what does it have to be? Physical? Emotional? Professional? Personal? I don’t think—”

Hyunjin smoothly cuts you off. “Like I said, this is your choice to complete. And it can be anything you cherish about yourself. Anything. This is your opportunity to show-off.”

You shake your head, frustrated. “But why, though? I don’t get the point of this.”

“I need to be able to get an idea of what specific path will best fit you, whether it’s solo therapy to help your mindset and esteem, matchmaking to get you connected with individuals who complement you, or coaching to provide you with guidance in potential relationships. So for now, I want to get to know you. ”

“If you wanted to get to know me, you’d ask questions like, ‘what do you do,’ or ‘what’s your favorite color,’ Hyunjin,” you say, irked. “This is just going to be another thing I fail at.”

“Darling,” Hyunjin says, firmly but gently. “Your profession and favorite color, while intriguing, isn’t knowledge I need to work with you. The most important service of all is helping my clients’ self-perception and confidence in romance, and I need to know what level you are on. Take it slow, it’s okay. I’ll be with you every step of the way.”

The familiar warmth spreads throughout your body. Compassion, gentleness, understanding. You harbor so much insecurity that it affects so much of your daily life. You don’t go out. You work yourself down and out. You wallow in your misery. You’re a pessimist who doesn’t believe in true love. And you receive endless judgment for it, because really, who wouldn’t be disgusted by someone like you? But being with Hyunjin feels different, because he is accepting you for who you are and promising you the guidance you’ve always needed. 

“We can assess what aforementioned action to take next week, when I’ve had time to assess you,” Hyunjin declares as you agree, ripping out a piece of paper from his notebook and writing down the task on it for you to take home.

And then you’re pulled back into reality. You’re well-educated and smart. You have a good job that pays well. You like to read Scientific American in your freetime, because sometimes, you would rather face the facts than meld into opinions. And you know exactly what’s happening right now. It’s barely been your first session with Hyunjin, and you’re already getting attached to him, because he’s giving you the kind of care and attention that you’ve been craving. It’s a phenomenon called transference, you know that. The butterfly garden flitting in your stomach is a mere sensory illusion, you know that. But you also know that you are feeling something. 

As Hyunjin hands you the slip of paper, his hands brush yours lightly, and you can’t help but exhale sharply at where his skin has made contact with yours. Maybe you’re touch-starved, but you can’t help but feel like a longing character in a Victorian romance novel. You look down at his hands as he retracts them. Large, smooth palms, and long fingers decked in silver rings. 

“But that will be all for now, darling.” 

God, he’s sexy.

“Really? Is that all?” You glance at the rose gold clock hanging on the wall behind you. It’s barely been thirty minutes. “We’re done so soon?”

Hyunjin grins at you, flashing those crescent moons once again. “I didn’t know you were that eager to stay here.”

You clear your throat, furiously blushing. “I mean, I thought the session would last longer. So I’ll come back next week then.”

“This was a diagnostic, darling. And yes, I’ll see you next week. You should make an appointment with Wonyoung before you leave.” 

Hyunjin beams at you pleasantly while you reluctantly grab your purse, and you briefly wonder if he looks just as lovely when his partner pleasures him— if he has a partner. But then again, there is no way someone as good-looking and sweet as him is single. The thought of Hyunjin fucking someone simultaneously sparks envy and turns you on, and you quickly shake it away.

“Thank you so much, Hyunjin. And um, I’m sorry if I came off as kind of coarse, it’s… I’m working on it.” You tilt your head towards him, hoping he gets what you’re trying to convey. You’re not amazing with words, or controlling your emotions very well, and any product of that today was not meant to hurt him.

“You did nothing wrong. I’m glad you decided to come here, Y/N.” Hyunjin walks you across his expansive office.

“And I love your nails, by the way.” Hyunjin states, his gaze pointed down at your hands. “Pink’s my favorite color.”

You flush a pink that’s deeper than the object of his compliments. Pink, huh? You wonder about what other pink things that Hyunjn may like. Pink roses? Raspberries? Flamingoes? You’d bring them all to him if he asked.

Hyunjin graciously opens the door leading to the corridor for you, and you shoot him a small smile, as he returns it. His hand skims the small of your back as he leads you out, and you pray that you don’t look like a lustful maniac. Unaware of your internal frenzy, Hyunjin waves goodbye to you as he lets in his next client waiting outside and shuts the door behind him.

Wonyoung asks you a plethora of questions about your availability next week, your mind stays on Hyunjin while you schedule your next appointment. You don’t waver even when you exit the SeoulSpark and unlock your car in the visitor parking lot, collapsing into the seat in a daze. Even when you find yourself plugging in directions on Google Maps to find the quickest route to 5-Star Grocery, your thoughts don’t stay from Hyunjin. Hyunjin, Hyunjin, Hyunjin.

You take your time strolling through the multicolored aisles of 5-Star, blankly gazing at all of the overpriced foodstuffs while daydreaming about the way that Hyunjin’s hand had accidentally brushed against you, even if it was inadvertent. You want his fingers on your body. In your body. In your mouth. Anywhere, and everywhere. 

You brighten up as you near the produce section and spy the hefty crate of what you came for: very expensive imported Indian mangoes. But without a second thought, you place a generous pile of the fresh fruit into a plastic cover and put it into your cart. And you swear you can catch the lingering scent of Hyunjin from when he was here earlier today. Rainstorms. Jasmine. Danger. You practically combust at the thought of Hyunjin scouring the baskets of mangoes for the very best picks with those crescent moon eyes, wishing it was you instead that he could have been gazing so purposefully at. On the way out, like some kind of a divine coincidence, you notice that a local florist has set up their stand at the entrance of the grocery. As you approach, the overflowing clay pots of jasmine crowd your sensations.

The drive back home feels like it lasts hours, when in reality, the store is only a few minutes away from your place. As soon as you’re inside your apartment, you throw open all of the window shutters, dismissing the ominous weather forecast on the radio. A much bigger tempest brews somewhere else. The late evening breeze through your windows is like a pirate sailing into your mind, hoarding your sanity and coaxing in all of your disgraceful thoughts. And you welcome the ship like a safe harbor because it’s been far too long since you’ve ever felt this outrageously alive.

The tiny light in your kitchen provides some leeway for you to work, as you stow away your groceries in the fridge and bring out the glass cutting board that your menace of coworker gave you as a gag gift; you would burn the whole house down before cooking anything, and he knows that. Yet, you kind of feel like goddamn Gordon Ramsay as you cut through the mango dexterously to produce those perfect cubes that Hyunjin presented you with.

With a sigh, you collapse into one of the mismatched chairs at your dining table. You once slaved away into late nights at this table, blue light glasses perched on your nose while you were engrossed in lines of code. Nowadays, you sleep late for less productive reasons or just because you are in a destructive mood and planning your future world takeover. But you have a feeling that might change soon.

Slowly, you put a piece of the sweet mango in your mouth, savoring the saccharinity and longing for it to pervade all aspects of your life beyond your palate. You find that it tastes a little less delectable because Hyunjin isn’t here with you, but you finish the entire bowl of fruit nevertheless. Still not satisfied, however, you bring out a second mango, still searching for that spark you had felt earlier.

This time, you don’t even bother cutting the fruit, instead breaking the skin of the mango with your teeth and allowing the juice to leak onto your tongue. A little better, but you wish you were biting down on Hyunjin’s plush lips instead. You feel like you’ve been hexed by the Love Doctor, because there’s no chance that a romantic Scrooge like you is fantasizing about the emotional and physical reincarnation of Aphrodite. 

Yet, he must have shot you with his quiver of arrows, rendering you clinically insane, because as you reach for your third mango, you feel your free hand trailing down to the place between your thighs that’s begging for your touch. You spread your legs so that your knees are facing out on either side of you, and your dress has now ridden up to your hips, exposing your now wet cotton panties for no one to see. 

But you imagine that he’s watching, stroking himself and getting off along with you. Not even bothering to slide them off, you push your panties to the side and finally press your fingers against your aching cunt. Chewing on the delicate skin of mango, you slide your fingers through your drenched folds, thankful to finally get a chance to relieve yourself. As you concentrate on the fruit’s taste, you wonder what Hyunjin would think of your own, sucking on his own fingers after fucking you with his pretty hands. He’d push you down to get a complete taste, attaching his mouth to your pussy to get both an idea and a release.

Moaning out loud, you circle your clit, enjoying the flickers of pleasure coursing through you. Not minding the juice now dripping down your chin and onto your collarbone, you pull down the front of your dress, freeing your breasts. You gently pinch your nipple with your left hand and let out a small gasp, craving for Hyunjin to be the one inducing such sinful pain into you.

“Just like that, darling.”

“Oh God, Hyunjin!” You call out his name and squeeze your breast, now fucking yourself on your fingers while simultaneously grinding the heel of your palm against your clit for that delicious extra friction. 

“So good for me.”

Waves of ecstasy wash over you as you ride out your high, sloppily thrusting and circling your hips on your soaked hand. You come to the final thought of Hyunjin pushing a slice of mango down the valley between your breasts, tracing and cleaning the sticky juice with his tongue. And there’s the spark, igniting a whole flame of fulfillment deep inside of you.

Letting out a shaky sigh, you fix your dress and get up from your chair, taking out a paper towel to wipe the mess of your arousal and fruit juice on the seat. Your cheeks burn with the after effects of your release, and yet, you don’t feel any shame. Instead, there’s a strange sense of liberation that you are starting to come to terms with.

Clipping up your hair, you make your way over to the desk in your bedroom and take out a fresh sheet of paper. Armed with a glass of freshly puréed mango juice and accompanied by the tantalizing scent of your jasmine plant, you pull out a pink gel pen and let the words pour out.

“So, Y/N. Were you able to do what I asked?” Hyunjin cocks his head expectantly.

You reach into your handbag and pull out the paper, passing it to Hyunjin with trembling hands. “I did it.”

You came to SeoulSpark straight from work, deliberately skipping your usual jeans and blazer combination for a skinny pencil skirt paired with a powder-pink button down that matches the walls of Hyunjin’s office. Slightly transparent silk stockings disappear under the skirt, which skims the top of your knees. 

When you were pulling on your barely-worn cream slingback pumps in the morning, you had wondered what this entire outfit was for. You had stood up and gazed critically into the mirror, and all you could feel was empowerment. Because for the first time, it felt like something you were truly doing for yourself. You weren’t proving a point. And you knew you weren’t dressing for Hyunjin either, but rather, because of him. He made you question if you were treating yourself right, and you wanted to answer it well. The pink blouse was a playful touch that you couldn’t help.

Hyunjin takes his time reading through the paper, and this time, you’re the one observing his every reaction, from the quirk of his brow to the way he occasionally licks his lips to wet them. The latter action sparks a memory of one week ago, when you indulged yourself in absurdly fantasizing about those very lips all over you. You press your legs together, ignoring the dull throb in between, and try not to think of it, focusing on the unsexiest things your mind can come up with. Climate change. Warts. Donald Trump.

“This is a good list to start with.” Hyunjin looks up at you, eyes twinkling. “All true, right?”

You nod, feeling a shy smile erupt on your face. “Yeah, I was kind of surprised with how doable-ish it was.”

“May I ask how? If I recall, you were quite opposed to this task last week.” Today, Hyunjin sits on the sofa with you instead of at his desk— too close, yet so far. 

You finger the one of the buttons on your blouse, mind already on the truth. But of course, you would never tell Hyunjin how masturbating to the thought of him made you feel aligned with your own body and sexuality, and maybe a little more willing to dare to think of what you like about yourself. Now that would be inappropriate.

“I just did some thinking,” you finally say after much deliberation. 

Hyunjin crosses one of his long legs over the other. “Interesting.”

“I guess.”

“If I ask you a question, will you answer it honestly?” Hyunjin lightly taps on his notepad with his pen, waiting for you to speak.

You give him a suspicious look. “Depends on the question.”

“Are you happy with yourself?”

His question confounds you, and yet, in a way, you also know why he asks it. A basic list of things that you like about yourself isn’t enough to turn over that table of insecurity and stagnant mindset that has hurt you for too long. It makes you understand that everything wrong in your life is because of an intrinsic cause, that ugly voice inside of you. Not because of something else… or someone. 

“I don’t think I am.” You bite your lip. “But I want to be.”

“Can you tell me why?”

You groan. “It stems from how I feel so undesirable right now. Like, I don’t want to be lonely, but I am. I mean, I’m kind of a shooting star for everyone. A fleeting moment of love, of comfort. I really wish I could be the fucking sun.”

Hyunjin leans forward swiftly, grasping your hands and startling you with their warmth. “You’re not a shooting star. And you’re not just the sun either. You are the whole solar system, honey. Please don’t ever think otherwise.”

Damn. The solar system? 

You hate when Irene calls you “honey,” but on Hyunjin’s tongue, it sounds loving, sweet, not like a patronizing ridicule. 

“Thank you,” you whisper, trying to ignore the way your heart is hammering in your chest. “But you’ve known me for, like, two seconds.”

If you don’t know any better, you would say that Hyunjin almost looks taken aback. But his features smooth over quickly. “Darling, I’m a professional. You’re smart. You’re beautiful. You have a good heart. There is no reason why you can’t have everything you want.”

You try to focus on his words and take them in, but Hyunjin— simply the sexiest thing you have ever set eyes on— has deemed you beautiful. It’s both flattering and heart-fluttering, to say the very least. “Well, why don’t I? Why don’t I have everything I want, then?”

Hyunjin narrows his eyes. “You just haven’t met the right person for you.”

You inhale at the husky tone of his voice. “And you’re going to help me with that, Hyunjin?”

“Yes. You don’t need therapy, definitely. The first step I take with my clients is acceptance. That comes with therapy, but you were able to identify the problem and acknowledge it. I say we address it now.”

“What do you recommend we do, then?”

Hyunjin clears his throat and flips to a new page in his notepad. “I’ll be your dating coach.”

You quirk your eyebrow at him. “What does that entail?”

“We need to fortify your self-esteem, first of all. So, confidence coaching. You’ll be getting weekly sessions with me in which I provide you with tips and guidance, almost like interactive lectures. In due time… you can be set up in our matchmaking office, if you’d like.” Hyunjin scribbles into his trusty notepad. “You made a good start with the list. Let’s get better.”

And you do. The next few weeks are like a bandaid on your wounded heart and mentality. Hyunjin helps you through building up your confidence, never once pushing you to run, only walking by your side. You expect him to give you information on pickup lines, how to dress, appropriate forms of touch, the science of love, and anything else that may improve your dating prospects, but much of his coaching is simply focused on you. You get one-on-one seminars from Hyunjin on the art of conversation, in which he guides you through being yourself, instead of being who you think you need to be. Hyunjin structures elaborate role-playing scenarios and critical thinking exercises in which you are coaxed out of your shell. And most significant of all, he teaches you that the most important relationship you can have is the relationship with yourself. 

You have always known that Hyunjin isn’t just any regular relationship therapist— or dating coach, or intimacy expert, or whatever other fancy moniker he adopts— but throughout your meetings, you come to feel like the boundaries have become blurred. Since the first time you saw him, he was able to read you like one of the glossy magazines stocked in the main lobby. But you slowly notice the fine details about him as well, from the neverending stack of classic poetry books on the white oak wall mount to how he bites his nails when he’s deep in thought.

The fascination you harbor morphs into a full-blown schoolgirl infatuation, resulting in you stalking his Instagram page and being totally invested in all of his old interviews, scouring for information on his dating status (no, you couldn’t find out if he is single or not). You’re completely enamored with Hyunjin and how free you feel around him. But one thing that doesn’t change is your burning desire for your unattainable guide, and the way you have to relieve yourself with your vibrator as soon as you rush home after your appointments.

You are sure that every single time you see Hyunjin, you’re being embarrassingly obvious, but he maintains his professionality, betraying nothing about himself except for a disarming smile. So you stay quiet, keeping your Hyunjin-affliction to yourself. But even in the face of your inappropriate struggle, for the first time, happiness doesn’t seem so foreign to you.

In spite of the honeymoon phase of your crush, in which you have blissfully daydreamed about Hyunjin, you still have your job to get to— gone is the racy maroon lingerie set you bought to spice up your solo sessions. However, your boring work suits and blazer-and-jeans combinations have been pushed to the back of your closet, in favor of you walking into the office wearing tight sheath dresses and skirts that show off your curves. You always believed that getting dolled up was strictly for special occasions or your man— when you thought you had one— but lately, you’ve been loving dressing up for yourself and enjoying the feeling of being sexy and liberated.

“Y/N! Get your ass over here!”

Your carefully curated mind bubble is rudely burst open when your boss yells for you from his office, not minding if the peace of the rest of the workers is preserved or not. You tie your hair up and dust off your skirt, making your way over to your boss’s office for what feels like the millionth berating you know you will receive.

“Yes?”

Mark Lee— your boss, who in your opinion, makes Meryl Streep in The Devil Wears Prada look like a saint— turns around in his cushy Arhaus swivel chair, raising his eyebrows at your harried stats. Most people know him as the eccentric but lovable CEO of NCT Corporation, one of the world’s most prolific venture capital firms. However, you know him to be a truly two-faced monster that takes a sadistic pleasure in seeing the people beneath him crushed.

 “Is something wrong? Because there shouldn’t be.”

You force a smile. “You called me here, Mark.”

He lets out a mirthless guffaw, slapping his thigh. “Right.”

You roll your eyes as he shuffles through the papers on his desk and produces a small Manila envelope for you. Mark holds it out to you, and you take the packet.

“What’s this?”

“Open it.”

Curious, you tear open the envelope and pull out a thick piece of stationary paper, an invitation to a networking event for tech entrepreneurs. Your pulse immediately begins to pick up, and you even dare to begin to dream of attending this golden opportunity. “Is this for me?”

“Kind of.” Mark clasps his hands together. “You’re planning this party!”

Your hesitant smile melts away. “What? I’m not your assistant, Mark. You already have one.”

“I know…” Mark trails off, popping a gummy bear into his mouth as he starts to spin around in his chair. “But no one is more passionate than you here, so you should do it.”

“But I’m busy with my actual job. I should be going to this party, not planning it! You know that.” You feel the frustration rise up in your chest like a tsunami, and you struggle to keep it at bay. “Come on, Mark. What the hell?”

Mark narrows his eyes at you, chewing on his fifth gummy. “No profanity, please.”

You nearly ball up the invitation and throw it onto Mark’s face. “You literally just screamed at me to get my ass in here.”

“I know, I’m hilarious.” Mark snickers, crumpling up his gummy bear packet and attempting to shoot it into the wastebasket on the other side of the room. When he misses, his expression sours and he glares at you. “You should really check out the instructions I sent you and get to work. Even some SM Tech officers will be in attendance. For example, the director of the Dream division.”

Your heart drops. “What?”

Mark smirks malevolently, leaning closer towards you. “You know him, right? Jake, was his name? Or was it Jisung?”

You grind down on your teeth, fuming. Mark is just trying to rile you up, and it’s really working. He knows perfectly well that Jisung is your ex-boyfriend, as both Jisung and him are golf buddies at their exclusive course in Pasadena. However, he loves to play dumb to get a reaction out of you, and you refuse to give him the satisfaction.

You swallow back all of the disgusting insults you wish you could hurl at him, if you were braver and not hanging on to your job by a thread. “Don’t recall. I’ll take care of the party.”

You turn on your heel and march out of Mark’s office, purposefully slamming the door hard on the way out. You hear Mark’s cackling behind you, but you don’t dare to look back, because you don’t know what you’ll do. You slide into your cubicle once more, and have to resist the urge to turn over your whole desk like Wreck-It Ralph.

Years ago, in your final year of college, you founded ITEM Technologies with one of your classmates for your senior project. You hadn’t expected your professor to be so impressed that she submitted your portfolio to California’s biggest entrepreneurship competition, and you definitely didn’t expect for it to win first place, which meant you got access to a whole network of potential investors for your start-up. You had already accepted a job offer to be a software developer at NCT, but the thought of becoming your own boss through ITEM pulled at you like anything. Securing funding for ITEM through SM Technologies would be the final key in the system of locks keeping you from your dream, and the exclusive invitation to CODA— Silicon Valley’s biggest annual networking lunch for start-ups— was the ticket.

However, the day before the event, Jisung had broken up with you, and you had forgotten all about CODA, instead sleeping in after a whole night of crying. Later, after you woke up and realized what you had done, you found out that SM’s latest investment would be in Dream, a growing media company headed by none other than your new ex, Jisung. In twenty-four hours, he had both killed your dreams and your heart. And in due time, without proper funding, ITEM Tech would eventually fail, like many other promising but ill-fated start-ups.

And now? Jisung is living it up in your dream job while you’re groveling in the footsteps of your nightmarish excuse of a boss. Just touching a keyboard once filled you with so much joy, but now, you would rather smash it into bits before pressing a single key. Now you have to map out some stupid party for other start-ups. You’re a developer, not an event planner. You glare up at the ceiling, as if asking a higher power for an explanation for your crappy life. A moment later, your computer pings with a new email.

Like he’s a telepathic deity, Hyunjin has sent you a GIF of a baby llama waddling around a small pen, with text below that reads, “keep calm and llama on.” In spite of yourself, you laugh to yourself, and without thinking, you type in a response thanking him and ending in a winking emoji. Right after you send it, you fill up with regret. Was that inappropriate? The emoji? Too much? With an exasperated sigh, you stand up from your desk, shutting down your computer and heading over to the elevator, punching in buttons for the next floor. However, as soon as you open the door to the office of the one person who could probably talk some sense into you right now, you regret it. Afterall, he’s your part-time friend and full-time menace of a coworker.

“Fuck… don’t tease me like that when I’m not there,” Minho groans, before sighing wistfully into his phone. “I’ll be home soon.”

You silently gag, mentally slapping the shit out of yourself for walking in on a phone sex session, of all things. Minho hadn’t answered when you knocked on his door, so you had just assumed that he needed to be woken up from one of his notorious naps.

“I love you too. I’ll see you in a little bit.” Minho ends the call and turns around in his seat, happily humming to himself with a lovestruck expression on his face. He nearly falls out of his chair when he sees you hovering over him with a smirk on your face. “Jesus!”

“Seriously? Here? Now?”

“Shut the fuck up. I wasn’t doing anything.”

“Suuure.”

Minho rolls his eyes at your silly expression, unamused and crossing his arms. “Can I help you, Y/N?”

You rub one of your nails, thinking of how Hyunjin once complimented them. “You’re like my only friend.”

“I know.” He watches you collapse into one of the chairs in front of him. “But what happened to those Golden Bitches?”

“Golden Trio,” you correct, although Minho doesn’t miss the hint of a grin on your face at his intentional mistake. “And I’m done with them. Finally.”

You put your head down on Minho’s desk as he reaches into one of his desk drawers, pulling out a pack of Twizzlers and tossing them to you. “Talk.”

“It’s, um, kind of bad, though.” 

“I’m listening.”

Everything comes spilling out of your mouth: brunch at The Terrace, your new unpaid party-planning gig, and of course… Hyunjin. Your explanation is much more censored than the real thing, of course, because there’s no way you’re going to talk about your whole mango expedition with a married man. That is a whole new level of breaking boundaries, and you’ve crossed enough to know.

“Well… that’s basically it.” You swallow nervously, and suddenly, your throat feels very dry. “Mark sucks, and I’m thirsting after my therapist slash dating coach.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself.” Minho says gently, a color that you weren’t even sure existed for him in public. His teasing persona always overtakes the tender one exclusively reserved for his other half. “The whole Hyunjin thing is probably just temporary. You’re still adjusting to considering romance as a possibility again.”

“Okay.”

“The right person will come along. It’s long, and it’s hard, but that journey will be worth it.”

“Says you. You and your wife are literally perfect. I mean, college sweethearts? If your life was a music soundtrack, it would be one of those cheesy love playlists that annoying couples make together.”

Minho just chuckles. “We had our ups and downs. But yeah, we kind of are perfect. She is perfect.”

He softly smiles to himself, gazing at the beautiful portrait of his wife that’s framed on his desk. He’s in his own world now, and you pat his shoulder. “Thanks for the help, Minho. You should go home.”

As you exit the NCT headquarters, you can’t help but feel your heart squeeze even tighter in your chest. Witnessing such a wholesome moment should have given you hope, a glimpse of a future you could have. Instead, it reminded you of what you can’t have right now— who you can’t have. 

You appreciate Minho’s efforts to make you feel better, but he just doesn’t know the full truth. Because your chat with him pushed up something very unpleasant that you’ve been avoiding for a while now. Your pink-loving, classic novel-reading, luxury-shopaholic dating coach is more than just the object of your explicit fantasies, all unbeknownst to him. You’ve started to love the person you become when you’re around him. You love how much more confident and happier you’ve become because of him. Hell, you have genuine feelings for him.

You are so fucked.

Spanning his entire career as a relationship therapist (and all of the other job titles; for God’s sake, he’s the Love Doctor), Hyunjin can’t really come up with any thorns in the rosebush. Sure, there have been a few snags, like that time his clients literally brought divorce papers to one of their meetings (he managed to convince them to take a romantic vacation to Bora Bora and bond more as a couple; it worked). Or when another client confessed to committing adultery with the family’s nanny halfway through a session (after persuading the wife not to murder her husband in the middle of his office, Hyunjin set them up with recovery counseling; that also worked). Life was predictable, but enjoyable. Just the way he likes it. 

Every single day used to begin the exact same way. He woke up at exactly five-thirty, before doing his favorite low-impact yoga routine in his home gym. Hyunjin liked being up early enough to watch the sun rise from the balcony of his West Hollywood penthouse, while drinking a cup of loose leaf Darjeeling tea, of course. His post Sun Salutation breakfast consisted of two slices of whole wheat bread topped with two organic scrambled eggs and extra virgin olive oil. He’d shower and spend a while wandering his walk-in closet, deciding what killer outfit to wear for work, his third favorite place after South Korea and the Taj Mahal. And then he drove to SeoulSpark in Cami, his beloved baby pink Cadillac that he splurged on after getting on Forbes 30 Under 30. 

Every single day used to end the exact same way. He’d leave work by six, after finishing up the last of his meetings. He’d browse on his MacBook for a nice recipe before cooking his dinner while jamming to Mariah on his Spotify Premium, and change the station to classical while eating. He took another shower, but taking more time to do his special avocado hair mask and full skin-care routine. Then Hyunjin liked to cozy up in his Versace bathrobe while catching up with the latest episode of Love Island and cuddling with his paw-dorable shih tzu, Princess Diana. Oh, and, he couldn’t unwind without kicking his feet back and downing a glass of pink champagne. And then he went to bed by eleven.

That was all before you, of course.

The day he met you, he was reminded of the sun. Yes, the way you roughly turned your chin to the side or rained down on him with your sharp words was more evocative of a thunderstorm. But then there was that dress, a pale yellow fluttering above your knees, and how your wide eyes had so expressively taken in your surroundings when you stepped into his office. The slightly awkward way you greeted him, when you harshly avoided his gaze when you were embarrassed. And the way you looked at him, your pretty lips pulled into a stubborn pout, but really, he could see the soft curiosity in your gaze. You were so mad at the world around you, all he wanted to do was take you onto his magic carpet and show you a new one.

He also really, really wanted to just rip that dress off your body and fuck you senseless. And when you started to eat that mango? He had to scramble to think of a list of unsexy things to avoid a boner right then and there. Chipped nails. Gonorrhea. Andrew Tate.

The following weeks weren’t any better, either. He felt like an inexperienced, horny teenager once again, lusting after the tiniest flash of skin. In your last meeting, Hyunjin had fixated on the tiny rip on your stocking that barely exposed the soft skin of your thigh. You hadn’t even noticed, but God, he was trying not to go crazy in his seat. 

Usually, other people are the ones who are seduced by Hyunjin’s charming nature, but ever since you, the once calm, elegant, and poised Hyunjin has been prone to being seduced by irrelevant wardrobe malfunctions. And the absolutely inappropriate thoughts of you that have now flooded his brain are constantly floating around, disturbing him. Yesterday, he slept-in, so he had to skip his morning yoga and was nearly late to work. Later, he fell asleep while fisting himself under the covers, forgetting to turn on his mood lighting and 528 Hz nighttime music. And today was an even bigger disaster, because he’d zoned out during his marketing meeting, thinking of bending you over his desk instead of advertising SeoulSpark. Ever since you, none of his days have been the same. Tonight is no exception.

Hyunjin turns the steel knob, cranking up the heat for no reason at all. Maybe he needs to feel the burn of the scalding water on his skin, shocking him back into reality, or perhaps, he needs to hide from his sanity in the steam, too ashamed to look out and into the bathroom mirror. 

The water pours down Hyunjin’s back as he steps under the steady stream, dousing himself and trying to forget about you. But it’s to no avail, because he feels his hand already moving down, roving over his Pilates-strengthened abs and slipping down to the one place that’s pleading for his attention. 

Hyunjin tilts his head back in the bliss of succumbing to temptation, slightly leaning his cheek against his shoulder as he strokes his hardened length slowly. He sucks in a sharp breath as he squeezes himself, deftly curving his wrist for a more impactful angle. Hyunjin is no stranger to a good lover, but right now he’s resorting to touching himself with the familiarity that only he is entitled to. Although, he would love to teach you about more than just confidence, giving you lessons on how to pleasure him, watching you work like the sexy aficionado that he believes you to be.

In his mind, he isn’t in the privacy of his bathroom, jerking himself off. No, he’s in his office, lying down on his luxe handwoven rug with you on top of him. You’re completely exposed except for the place where your yellow frock is scrunched around your waist, because you were so eager to have each other that Hyunjin hadn’t even bothered with completely undressing you. 

Hyunjin tightens his fingers around his cock and speeds up, pumping himself aggressively. He bites down on his lip and screws his eyes shut, as low, breathy moans escape him. He’s leaking already, flushed and throbbing under his palm. Hyunjin pushes a hand against the shower wall for support and whimpers at the thought of you riding him while slurping on that goddamn mango. He’s so delusional for you that you hadn’t even bothered with getting a knife to cut into the mango, instead holding it in your hand and biting into it while bouncing on his cock. 

Hyunjin lets out a groan as he strokes himself even faster, and he feels his orgasm rapidly approaching but refrains from releasing. He doesn’t deserve to come, not yet. He imagines your legs spread and your tight walls around him, instead of his own fist. Your cheeks are a deep red now, as Hyunjin pounds up into you, claiming you and making you his own. The juice from the mango is dripping all over your gorgeous breasts, trailing down even further and mixing with your own arousal. Hyunjin wonders about how you would taste. Were you as sweet as that mango you had eaten so damn seductively in front of him? No. You probably tasted even better. 

His soft moans have turned into harsh pants as Hyunjin’s hands begin to lose rhythm, unsteadily working his length. Hyunjin listens to your pretty sighs as you look down at him, pleasure and amusement contorting your features. 

“You want me so bad, don’t you?” 

“I do!” Hyunjin chokes out as a cry as the pressure rises in his core. He’s so, so close, the pearls of sweat rolling down his neck and becoming one with the water. 

“Hyunjin…”

Hyunjin’s name slips out of your mouth as easily as he flips you over onto your back, fucking harshly into you. He anchors his hand to your waist, gripping tightly, as you gaze up at him through your half-lidded eyes. Your bare chests are pressed together in a sticky haze of both your sweat and the juice of the mango you have now abandoned for something more satiating. Spurred on by the fucked-out smile on your face, he brings his free hand to your lips and you obediently suck on his fingers, wishing it was his cock instead. But you’re still in control, directing him with your eyes and whispering sweet praises to him. And then you’re clenching around him, your body shuddering underneath Hyunjin’s as you reach the peak of your ecstasy. 

“I need you to come for me, Hyunjin.”

Your final command makes Hyunjin convulse and tense, his back arching as he finally chases after his release. Hyunjin thrusts into his hand, overcome by the thought of you judging him while he comes. Hyunjin’s knees go weak as he strokes himself through his orgasm, violently spasming against the Carrara marble walls of his shower. His release shoots out in hot spurts, painting his trembling thighs and the walls a thick white. 

Breathless, Hyunjin opens his eyes and washes off his shame, but there’s only so much that water and coconut body wash can do. The moment he prepares to step out of his steaming shower, Hyunjin feels anything but cleansed— his situation is quite the opposite. The unholy thoughts that he had touched himself to had done anything but subside, struggling behind the dam in his mind that contains his last shreds of dignity. As he opens the door leading to his bedroom, the shock of cold air conditioning against his damp skin is a harsh reminder of reality. 

Hyunjin’s relationship with you is strictly limited to his office, the place where he did not get to fuck you in. Any discourse with sexual content is limited to your personal romantic endeavors that he has no role in whatsoever. You have zero idea about his filthy fantasies involving you, and see him merely as the person who would help you find happiness with someone else. Not him. He’s your therapist, and in clinical terms, you could be his patient.

The mirage of you standing in front of him disagrees, however. 

“You’re technically not my therapist—  more like my counselor.” 

Hyunjin watches with wide eyes as you bound over to him. Smirking, you playfully toy with the edge of the towel wrapped around his waist.

“But I am feeling kind of sick, though, Dr. Hwang. I’m all hot and aching, just for you.”

“Go away! You can’t be here.” Hyunjin shakes his head, quickly walking over to his closet and getting into his silk batik pajamas. “I’m going crazy…”

Princess Diana nips at Hyunjin’s ankles, prodding him to go back to his normal self and snuggle with her while they watch reality TV. 

“I just can’t right now, Diana,” Hyunjin exclaims exasperatedly. She gets the hint and slinks away, leaving Hyunjin alone in his bedroom.

He hadn’t even bothered with turning on the lights, the glimmering Los Angeles skyline past his expansive windows casting a pale glow in his room. If mindreading was a real thing, Hyunjin would be done for, because the thoughts that had transpired today would ruin him, shrivel up his reputation and business. If this went beyond the confines of his home, continuing to force itself into his daily life, he could lose everything. His job, his name, his purpose. Nevertheless, Hyunjin feels his hand sliding down once more, like a sinful memory of the past. It’s going to be another long night, and what happens tomorrow is variable. But Hyunjin knows one thing to be true.

He is so fucked.

«NEXT CHAPTER» · «GENERAL M.LIST» · «NAVIGATION» · «TALK TO ME»

AUTHOR'S NOTE

That was the longest thing I've ever written for one piece. AND IT'S ONLY CHAPTER 1 LMFAO. Anyway, hope you liked it, loves! I'll be hiding under my blankets tonight and screaming about my first published smut scene EVER. Please leave your thoughts, I don’t mind if you leave a whole essay ;) -Dreamy

TAGLIST

@skzfelixlove @army-stay-noel, @hwangjuhong, @chizumiyoshi @hyunjinswifeee @geneziesm @sherryblossom @yeetfellx @bennetbutton @chillseo @hyuneyeon @seosalad @nhyunn @hyunjinnie2000 @ajxreads @n2tl4na @yeahsspider @8makes1scream ***The users that I could not tag are written in pink***

If you'd like to join the taglist, click here!

📢 ©jisungsdaydreamer 2023 | All rights reserved. I do not condone translations or transfers of my work onto other platforms such as Wattpad, AO3, etc. Tumblr is my only platform. Acts of plagiarism are strictly prohibited.

#stray kids smut #skz smut #kflixnet #k-labels #straykidsland #hyunjin smut #hwang hyunjin smut #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin x y/n #hyunjin x you #anti-romantic #stray kids fic #skz fic #hyunjin fic #stray kids #skz #kpop imagines #skz au #kpop fic #stray kids au

[bigfatbimbo]

Saw somebody mentioning Vox meeting his assistant Dom in hell and I’m just imagining him doing some PR event, flashing that million dollar smile and shmoozing when he looks into the crowd and freezes.

It’s not uncommon for people not to recognize those who they knew in life because of how crazy the changes can be (he has a tv head for hell’s sake) but he recognizes that posture and that confident, no-nonsense look. It’s kind of like looking at a fun house mirror version of someone he used to know.

At this point, he’s been dead for a while and enough time has passed to establish himself (maybe the vees are already a thing or maybe he’s on the rise) so he’s already put his past behind him in exchange for the new and trendy. But now he’s having a flashback to firm hands, a stern voice, and late nights in his office. He blue screens a bit and has to laugh it off in front of the interviewers.

After: It makes sense that you’d be in hell, maybe you’ve been here a while without him knowing. He remembers how good you were at your job. In life you were resourceful and ruthless, taking pride in doing the impossible.

If you were working for someone else it could cause serious trouble for his company. You could also be a major asset if hired but…

Hell is a lot more lax than 1950s America but he’s built a very specific image for himself and power is EVERYTHING down here. He thought he had rebuilt himself and put it all behind him but this could risk everything.

He’d be careful this time, keep you at a distance. He could have you as a skilled worker AND keep his pride intact. It’s a big company, you won’t even have to be in the same room. And he’s so much stronger than he used to be. He can keep his image, it won’t happen again and he totally isn’t thinking about it.

Maybe the assistant joins, maybe she doesn’t… or maybe she makes him beg

-Friday

Friday anon you have a way with words oh my god because I love this idea so much. Lowkey you really sold this, you’d be a good writer ☝️🤨

But the way this would throw him through a crazy ass loop. Because he’s probably built himself up in his head, and being an overlord with a, quite literally, inhuman amount of power, he definitely has a new standard for himself.

Because now it’s more than just gender roles and fragile masculinity, it’s an even more fragile god complex. So to think he’s grown out of whatever submissive, borderline weak phase he was in during life isn’t exactly out of the question.

Part of him didn’t want to risk it, but you working for another overlord could cause problems. With his new empire on the rise, he could use an efficient, overachiever type of worker. However, the one thing that would change was the dynamic.

Simply put, there wouldn’t be one. Although he could use your help for his business, an arms length distance would be more than appropriate. After all, being seen as weak in hell could have a more dire effect.

Good thing that wouldn’t be a problem; a strong man in life makes a stronger one in death, after all. So he approaches you after the PR event, trying to act as casual as possible, treating as a ‘Y/n, how longs it been!? Decades?” kind of conversation. Acting as if your relationship was never as intimate as it really was.

Thankfully, you knew to go along with his casual tone, just like he trusted you would. However, you went along with it a little too well. His ‘arms length’ approach was working extraordinarily well, however thanks you to you. His plan was to ignore you in hallways, maybe a small wave at best, and only engage when he specifically had too.

But even then, in closed off hallways in the off chance of seeing each other, his small nod would be greeted with absolute silence. Not even a look in his direction. This has happened a few times, no look, no wave, not even a shoulder bump. Scarily formal.

Were you mad? No, you wouldn’t have wasted time being petty. But if nothing you’ve done has been petty, that means you really just didn’t care. You got your work done, at an incredible pace, as per usual, exceeding all other workers. Your name was known throughout the office and the more business deals you closed for Voxtech, throughout the small business clicks of hell.

But you stayed loyal, not to Vox, but to Voxtech. Did that mean you did care? No, Vox supposed, it meant that just as in life, you liked to finish jobs you started, or at the very least not abruptly switch bases. So does that mean you and Vox’s incredibly hot work affair meant nothing to you?

…Because it didn’t to him either. But there were days he’d catch a glimpse of you in the offices working, and he can’t help but let his mind wonder to those late nights. He’d always put up a fight, but you and your stern tone and firm hands elegantly broke him down, each and every time.

The shame he’d felt at being overpowered and conquered by his female assistant, but his hunger for more lingered on his mind just like your perfume lingered through the rooms you exited.

It’d been years, but seeing as it was the hottest sex in his life and death, he’d remembered the little details; the smell of your hair, your hands, the dominance in your voice, your knowing look, your lips, fuck your hands… and now it’s late and most of everybody else is gone. And Vox makes his way over to your office.

Your door is open, but he still knocks his knuckles against the wood, lingering in the door frame, “Knock, knock.”

You recognize the voice, raise an eyebrow, and to Vox’s dismay, barely glance up your paperwork. Setting your mug on your desk, you adjust yourself on the chair, telling him to “Come in.”

“Y/n,” Vox brushes off a speck of lint off his suit jacket and grins, “Thought I’d check on your work. If i’m correct, you have important paperwork to turn in?”

He hoped he was. In all honesty, he didn’t pay much attention to the employees specific jobs unless it purposely inconvenienced or benefited him. Otherwise, he didn’t check what various paperwork was delivered or checked by who.

You smile, “Just finishing up, easy stuff. It’ll be a breeze for you, just a few signatures.”

Setting your papers down, you finally look at him, “Will that be all, sir?”

Vox’s smile drops. No, it shouldn’t be. It simply didn’t feel right for it to be. But your look wasn’t questioning, instead almost amused, as if you were expecting this, and looking forward to his leaving.

Without anything else to do, Vox simply stalled. Did you think to do this? What about this other thing? Well this is nearly impossible so surely you hadn’t done this! But, some things never change. And you had in fact done everything. Not only that, but your smile grew with every task you’ve already accomplished.

Finally Vox snapped. Just as he’s done before, blabbering aimlessly about your overachieving, meaninglessly raising his voice is his facade display of dominance.

Then you stood up, and considered his outburst. “You know, i’ve been getting other offers. Companies who ‘care’ more. Pay more,” he goes silent, “You want me to stay?”

He nods, going to say something else before you cut him off.

“Anything else you want?” you drawl, backing him into the door.

“Hold on—“

“Beg.” And he does.

#hazbin hotel x reader #vox x reader #dom reader #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin vox x reader

[9800sblog]

wooyoung tarot reading

public persona vs real personality

do I have his energy permission to do and share this reading? queen of wands

in public

hypnotizing is the word to describe what wooyoung goes for; childlike (childish), immature, hard to ignore, messy - fun, entertaining, funny, never a dull moment, makes you wanna re-watch his content multiple times. bad, dangerous - sexy, captivating, impressive, killer moments (literally the 10 of swords), he wants to kill with looks, and skills (dance, modeling, body, literally his eyes, etc). out of all ateez members tho, he seems to be the one to try to look most unavailable (the devil reversed), he acts rude, sassy and sometimes distant, because he is the dangerous dude, the bad boy. but never actually too harmful, he's approachable, more like a best friend you're secretely in love with, that you're so close he doesn't even care what he does around you, he's a menace and if you try hard enough you can actually turn your feelings into reality (lmaaaaao). he tries to look super inner confident, like others’s opinions really don't matter to him, he just doesn't listen and they can never get to him, you can't force wooyoung to be or do anything he doesn't genuinely wants to, he's wooyoung, he's the synonym of self control. if he gets bothered, you'll get sliced, he's dangerous and you guys are close enough that he can just show it when he's uncomfortable. big party, big social life, a man of the night, trendy and cool, in with the kids

in privacy

dude's so chill and casual, familiar, literally giving the vibes of a big family that lives nearby each other. he's like so much more introverted, not only did I get the hermit but the 4 of cups at the same time. you see wooyoung quiet in the back during interviews? that's genuinely how he is casually, just vibing in his own head, in his own world. he doesn't move much, he likes things to stay the same forever and ever, if possible, he likes what he already knows. he's a very polite dude, "excuse me, please and thank you" seem to be natural part of his vocabulary, he treats people fairly like how they treat others, actually. very protective of his kind, would kill for those he loves, big big heart. he's not as flashy with his money or physical appearance, like how his style is mostly casual and comfortable gym clothes or how he spent years with that old ass iPhone 5 just because it still worked 😭😭😭☝️I don't think he keeps a lot to himself, he seems to give away his stuff to family and really really close friends, he doesn't care that much about being socially powerful, he likes genuine connections with those that are similar to him (example, moving from a company with a big name to follow a friend because he's genuinely happy with little things and moments). I think he's pretty quiet and private in general and very traditional for SURE, like "there's a proper way to treat people and exist in civilization". hobbies would include quality time with friends and family, arts like pictures, drawing, paintings, cooking, games. he loves company.

#ateez tarot #kpop tarot #ateez #celebrity tarot reading #wooyoung

[storiesbyjes2g]

3.77 Un-Invite

Good thing Sophia and I weren't fancy sims, because I could have thought of a dozen better ways to celebrate our engagement than eating at a casual restaurant down the street from my mama's house to escape her being extra. She would have been thrilled to dog sit for a few extra hours if we had decided to make a big splash and go fancy. However, it didn't make sense for us to leave town, so we opted to go to Viviana's...the same Viviana's where I first sorta kinda met Yasmine. I didn't tell Sophia she worked there because I didn't want to dampen the evening, but I definitely walked inside, cautiously looking around and hoping she was off that day. But there was nothing to fear, even if she showed. We had already handled our business. If she wanted to be messy, that would be on her. Still, I hoped she wasn't working.

Sophia, on the other hand, had no reason to suspect a surprise appearance and was grinning from ear to ear.

"This is such a nice restaurant!"

"Yeah, I like it too. This became our place when we moved here."

"I love how it's so trendy and modern, but I still feel comfortable being here dressed like this."

Even though I hoped we would not run into Yasmine, I knew she would turn up; I felt it in my bones. I buried my head in the menu and must have read it 17 times because I didn't want to see it coming. But eventually, I heard her voice.

"Welcome to Vi...oh..."

Sophia looked up, and I saw that flash of surprise that hit her face. It morphed into confusion, then suspicion. Yasmine looked more embarrassed, but still ready to hold her own if Sophia wanted to take her there. They glared at each other for what felt like an eternity. I had no idea what went on in either of their heads, but if I could have backed away slowly, I would have. They were like two cats circling and sizing up each other. Who would strike first? Of course, I didn't expect a fight to break out, but I honestly had no idea what to expect. At the club that night, Sophia surprised me when she casually interrupted us. I never thought of her as territorial. To be honest, I thought it was kinda hot. But she wasn't a nasty woman, and we were in Yasmine's workplace, so I knew they'd eventually snap out of it. And they did.

"Umm..." Yasmine hesitated and fidgeted with the notepad in her hand. "I can go get someone else if you-"

"Don't be silly," Sophia said, brushing her off. "We're all adults here."

I exhaled. Yasmine smiled sheepishly and nodded.

"Are you ready to order?"

"Yes, we are. I'd like a grilled cheese sandwich and a bowl of tomato soup but..."

She explained exactly how she wanted the sandwich to be: grilled long enough to be very crispy and brown, but not so much that it's hard and scratches the roof of her mouth. Yasmine got a kick out of that, and I did too. I watched her in amazement, not about the sandwich, but how gracefully she handled awkward situations. Mama was 1000% spot on when she said I chose well.

I ordered bangers and mash, and we both got a Sunset Valley. After Yasmine repeated everything back to us, including Sophia's highly specific notes, she surprised us both.

"That's a nice ring," she said with a beautiful smile.

She didn't smile much, but when she did, it was a nice treat. Was I still allowed to say that?

"Thank you so much," Sophia said.

"Congratulations," she said. "You don't mess around, huh?"

"I knew she was the one. Why wait? But thanks, Yasmine. I really appreciate that."

"I hope it's okay to say this," she began.

Everything in me tensed up again.

"You're so lucky. I never really had a shot, but when I thought I did, I wasted it. I wish y'all the best."

I exhaled. I think Sophia did, too.

"That's so kind of you to say," she said. "Thank you."

"I'll be back in a bit," Yasmine said and disappeared into the kitchen.

"Well, that was nice of her," Sophia said.

"It was."

"She can't come to the wedding, though."

I chuckled.

"I wouldn't dare ask you that. Speaking of the wedding...are looking you looking to have a huge shindig?" I asked.

"Not really. But I don't want it to be so small that we have to labor over whom to un-invite. We should invite whoever we want."

"I was thinking the same thing, though I don't have many to invite."

I thought about Dub. We had only known each other for about 24 hours, but he was already one of my closest friends. He had a secured spot on my guest list, and I tacked on a plus one in case he and Maia had some serious talks on the train. I wanted to meet her.

"What about you?" she asked. "Do you have a dream wedding?"

"Nah, not really. I don't care where it is or what we do, as long as you, my parents, and my sister are there. Oh, and a huge cake. Gotta have a nice cake."

"I mean, is it really a wedding without a nice cake?"

I chuckled. She and I were always on the same page, and it was beautiful.

"Exactly."

"I would love a beach wedding," she said. "That's my only real preference."

"Then a beach wedding it is."

I took a moment to comb through my thoughts really consider if I'd been looking forward to anything in particular, especially since I was allowed to have an opinion, heh. Mama was right about one thing. I was a simple and adaptable guy, so I honestly didn't have any must-haves or deal breakers.

"Do you think we'll have time to do all the pre-ceremony stuff, like the parties and dinners?" I asked.

"Listen," she said in a sweet yet firm tone, "I know you're a dutiful son, but this is our wedding. If you want to do all those things, we'll make time!"

A different server arrived with our food, and Sophia celebrated her perfectly grilled sandwich. As we were both starving, we seized the opportunity to get a few bites in before continuing our conversation.

"Speaking of time," she began, "your mom asked one question I'd been considering. How would you feel about starting our family right away?"

"I wouldn't mind that."

She smiled and seemed very relieved.

"I'm glad... Time to tell your friends in the purple box goodbye!"

I quickly swallowed my food before I choked to death from laughing at her. Forget surviving our relationship. I needed to survive the engagement!

This conversation was brought about by this mod!

#ISBI challenge #sims 4 story #sims 4 gameplay #adolting #adolting gen 3 #luca winston murillo #sophia aguilar #yasmine angel

[nolita-fairytale]

just a lil sneak peak of what i'm cooking up for marcus second trip to copenhagen with luca & chef from 'burn your life down'

spoilers below the cut & not proofread:

“What do you think of the blue?” Luca asks you, as you feel the display sheets, checking for softness. 

“Don’t know if the blue is what I’m going for. I was thinking of something warmer. Maybe a yellow or… I don’t know. I’ve kind of been into that trendy rust color as of late,” you reply with a shrug, moving onto the warmer colors. 

Luca chuckles and with a small shake of his head, he clarifies his previous questions with:

“No, I meant for me.”

“What do you mean?” you ask him curiously, his comment pulling all of your focus as you search his face for answers. “You just got new sheets.” 

And expensive ones too. 

But as your eyes follow his gaze, you realize that he’s not talking about sheets, focused on the XL Twin-sized duvets just above where the sheets messily along the shelf. 

“I was thinking…” Luca trails off, checking in with you before he continues, with “... maybe it’s time I get two duvets… you know… for us.” He takes a beat, and a step towards you, and you know you’ll never stand a chance against his boyish charm as one side of his mouth turns up into a smile. 

You’re no stranger to the Scandinavian duvet method – two twin duvets for one king sized bed – but it sounds like Luca’s suggestion is about way more than buying an extra duvet on this trip. 

“I want you to feel at home… at my place."

“I do,” you reply, almost instantly, a warmth spreading through your belly as you take a step towards him. 

“But I mean really… feel like it’s your home. Because it is. It could be,” Luca continues, this time with more insistence, a look of hopefulness in his deep blue eyes. 

“Are you… are you asking me to move in with you?” you manage to get out, your heart skipping a beat. 

“Why not? We could use this week to try it out,” he suggests so casually that you practically have to do a double take. “See how it goes while Marcus stays at your place?”

“Yeah I-... that sounds like a good plan, yeah,” you stammer out, the grin on your face undeniable as you nod enthusiastically in the middle of a goddamn furniture store. 

“Besides,” Luca says, clearing his throat as his tone changes to one that’s much more playful. “You’re an absolute blanket hog and a repeat offender at that.” Luca winks your way as you roll your eyes with a laugh in response. “This could prevent some of our silly little quarrels, don’t you think, love?” 

“Uh huh,” you sound, your face skeptical as you look his way again. “Preventative measures. Sure, babe.”

Luca chuckles before leaning down to press a chaste kiss to your lips, right then and there, in the Ikea bed linen section, the place you’ll now forever think of as the place your boyfriend asked you to move in with him.

*

a/n: this is the EPL marcus fic but will also focus heavily on luca & chef!reader. the working title is 'don't you worry, there's still time' but this could change. but if i keep it, it means that both of my luca fics have titles from tegan and sara songs and i love that for us. anyways, just wanted to share!!

#current wip #wip #chef luca #will poulter #luca the bear #the bear season 2 #the bear headcanon #luca x reader #the bear hulu #the bear fx #the bear fanfiction #chef luca x reader #pastry chef luca #burn your life down

[hiiroamagisbestfriend]

Ello there :D could I request going on a first date with Kohaku and Natsume both of them being separate pls :>

First Date Headcanons!

w/ Kohaku Oukawa & Natsume Sakasaki x GN! Reader

i actually tried so hard to make sure these were dates this time around

Warnings: Kohaku has a very small panic attack on his, but it gets resolved in like seconds. Otherwise it's all clear!

Kohaku Oukawa

✩ You'd probably be the one to ask Kohaku out. Not that he's shy or anything (okay, maybe a little) but because he doesn't really know much about dates and romance.

✩ Now, where would you take someone like that? Someplace where he can experience and try tons of new things? Why, the natural answer would be the amusement park of course!

✩ Whether it be rides, attractions, games, food, there's no shortage of new things to show him. He spent quite a lot of his life indoors or "working" after all.

✩ It also wouldn't hurt to let him experience crowded places, considering the friends he had growing up were either his Bon, or people online.

✩ Before the date, Kohaku had the brilliant idea to ask Aira for advice. Aira looked like he would be experienced in this field after all, with his constant talking of love and such.

✩ Obviously, Aira, having no experience himself; had no idea what to tell him, conjuring up all the knowledge he gathered from manga and fanfics to try and answer Kohaku properly.

✩ Just the standard stuff like offering to hold his hand if ever you were to get scared, or riding swan boats and other love themed rides.

✩ When the day finally came, Kohaku couldn't get a wink of sleep. He would never admit it, but he was quite excited. He spent a while trying to pick out clothes, wondering if something more casual and sporty would fit better than something more cool and romantic.

✩ Then he remembers he has no personal fashion sense at all, seeing as all his clothes were just stuff he got from looking up popular and trendy clothes. Well, at least they all looked good, especially on him.

✩ He'd arrive a good 2 hours or so earlier than you. Just standing around the entrance like a lost puppy. His eyes practically sparkling when he saw you walking towards him.

"Ah, you're already here! Sorry, did I make you wait long?" Kohaku shook his head like crazy, before reciting a line that he practiced with Aira beforehand.

"Nah, I just got here." Kohaku smirked internally, knowing that this should alleviate your nerves if you thought he had waited long.

The two of you got your tickets and a complementary map, before snapping a photo together near the entrance.

"Where do ya' wanna go first, (Y/N)?" He'd ask even though he already planned a whole itinerary beforehand. He values your opinion after all.

When you tell him that it's up to him, he would gladly take you by the hand and drag you towards the more popular rides. It's still early, so now's the best chance to get on them before lots of people show up.

✩ The very first ride he brought you to seemed like a very, very extreme roller coaster. His face visibly darkened when he saw all the loops and turns, but he decided to tough it out for you.

✩ When the two of you got on, his heart was already about to leap out of his chest. Sure he's a man used to these kinds of "life-threatening" scenarios, but it's different when you're beside him.

✩ Just as the roller coaster would start it's slow ascent, Kohaku would definitely start regretting his decision. His hands would start shaking and he'd find it harder to breathe.

✩ Right before the big drop though, he'd feel your hands on top of his, his eyes wandering to your face. You were looking him right in the eyes, as if you were trying to telepathically tell him:

Don't worry. I'll protect you.

✩ He'd feel about 30 times lighter after that. The feeling of being protected or cared for isn't something he was very used to, what with the life and job that he had.

✩ But before he knew it, the roller coaster dropped and he wasn't scared at all. Sure, he was screaming, but it was because he just felt so safe beside you that he could truly let himself relax and be vulnerable.

✩ He couldn't even care that he didn't get to act all cool like Aira instructed him to. He was just too goshdarn happy seeing you care for him this much.

✩ When you two got off the ride, he couldn't help but wrap you in a hug, only stopping when he realized you two were holding up a line.

✩ Still though, even after your hug was broken up, he had a firm grip on your hand. What you did back then was so simple, but it meant a lot to him, it really did.

✩ It was then he saw those game booths handing out cute plushies or toys, pointing at the stands before pulling you towards them.

Kohaku watches your eyes fixate on a prize. It seemed like a pretty big plushie of an animal you liked. With that, a fire was lit inside him, he was going to get that for you even if he had to use all his money for it.

"Ya' want that one, dontcha?" Kohaku couldn't help but smile too when you beamed at him while nodding like crazy. "Alright. Guess it's time for me to show ya' my cool side, yeah?" He feels a bit embarrassed saying it, but he did mean it.

✩ Cue a good 20 minutes of Kohaku getting absolutely wrecked at that shooting game. He'd think his skills would come in handy in a situation like this, but it seems even he's not strong enough for rigged amusement park games.

✩ His face was as pink as his hair at this point, losing confidence with each failed attempt, only to want to try again harder when he saw your expectant face.

"One more! I'll get it for sure next time!" Kohaku shouted out, before fishing his wallet for more money, only to have the grim realization that it was completely empty.

He'd turn to look at you, afraid that you'd be disappointed at him for failing this badly. He really messed up big time here did he? Not only did he not get you the plushie, now he's out of money that he could've spent for food or other stuff.

His eyes would get a bit misty before he feels your hand on top of his head, gently caressing it so that it wouldn't mess with the hair he spent an hour styling.

"You did great! It's a shame you couldn't get it, but you looked super cool holding that toy rifle!" Kohaku felt faint, he couldn't keep taking these critical hits to the heart. "Come on, cheer up! I saw some cute looking sweets over there, I'll go buy you some, so give me a smile!"

Kohaku couldn't even reply before you were the one dragging him somewhere. You really are so cool in his eyes. He's done nothing but blunders this entire date, couldn't there be something he can do to make your heart race for a change?

He sifted through the things he discussed with Aira before coming up blank. All the intricate plans they made, he'd probably mess up at this rate. How could he possibly make you as happy as you made him?

"Kohaku, you okay? You've got quite the face!" The man in question had a very puzzled face after all, thinking real hard on what he could possibly do. Oops, he should probably answer you.

"Ah, yeah. I was jus' thinking about how much I love ya'." He did not notice the big goofy grin on your face as it became tinted red, and maybe that was for the best.

Natsume Sakasaki

✩ Natsume would be the one to ask you out. For what you say? Well he called it a surprise, so you don't get to know.

✩ He just told you to get ready, and he'll come pick you up at your place. Not even telling you what kind of clothes to wear so that it'll truly be a surprise.

✩ That was already the first spell he cast on you, when a human doesn't know what's about to come, their mind starts exploring and creating answers for them. Natsume wanted you to feel so excited for this date that you'd fantasize about what it could be.

✩ Of course, he'd have to make sure things on his end were going great as well. If he disappointed you of all people he really would have no right calling himself a magician.

✩ When the time for the date came, you heard some soft knocks on your door. Opening it to see Natsume wearing a nice button up and pants with a matching tie. Hm, so it was a formal kind of date then.

✩ You wanted to go back and change to match with Natsume, but he'd just pull you in by the arm, a soft thud resounding as you bumped into his chest.

"You already look perfect, kitTEN." Natsume whispered into your ear before planting a kiss on your forehead. You couldn't help but get caught off guard, he sure plays hard and fast doesn't he? "Now then, shall we gO?"

He would lead you into a fancy looking car, opening the door for you and waiting for you to go in before he does. When the two of you are seated, the person behind the wheel that looked kind of like Tsumugi started to drive at a leisurely pace.

Time passes before you know it and the sun has already sunk when the two of you get dropped off at a nice looking park. Natsume takes you by the hand to an already set up picnic, with food and drinks that would cater to any cravings.

He signals for you to sit down before doing so himself, sitting opposite to you in the aptly sized blanket.

While the date was certainly romantic so far, it was quite simple in execution. It was Natsume that planned this whole thing, so you were kind of expecting it to be a bit more, how do you say this; out there?

As if he read your mind, Natsume tucked a hair behind your ear before speaking. "Worry not, kitTEN. The night has only just beGUN." He threw in a wink too, crafty bastard.

✩ Though he said that, the date seemed to progress as naturally as a picnic date would. The two of you eating and chatting about nothing important.

✩ Sure Natsume would throw in a cheeky remark or try to feed you something every now and then, but it was still just a sort of normal date?

✩ Of course this too, was simply a part of his spell. He had planned a very grand declaration of love after all, but he needs you to be just slightly disheartened before he puts his plan into action.

✩ Soon enough, it was fully night time and the stars had come with the moon to say their greetings to you two.

Seemingly out of thin air, Natsume pulled out a telescope. Motioning for you to peer into it. "Do you see iT?" The telescope was already positioned, showing you a constellation of three stars connected like a triangle.

It was a very pretty constellation, and the view of the night sky was honestly breathtaking enough to warrant this entire date.

"This constellation is called the summer triANGLE. It represents two lovers, Vega and Altair, that were seperated by the milky waY." That story made you a bit sad, being a romantic yourself. "Luckily, the other star, Deneb serves as the bridge for them to meeT."

You pulled away from the telescope after feeling a tap on your shoulder. Natsume put his hand behind your ear again, but this time procuring a cute pendant with a star on it. "My Vega, even if the universe intends on tearing us aPART. I will always, always find my way back to yoU."

He pulls out a similar looking pendant that he was hiding under his clothes, before putting the one in his hand around your neck. Natsume then closes the distance between you two, your faces inches away from each other.

He guides your hand to his pendant, before bringing yours closer to it, showing that the two of them connect when brought together. "This, I promise. With the thousand stars in the sky as my witness."

It seemed Natsume dropped his usual way of speaking, but you could probably let it slide this one time. How could you say no to him when his face looks so red as he recites these cheesy yet incredibly romantic lines?

"I love you, (Y/N)." Natsume smiled at you softly, before closing the distance between your lips.

AAAA done! hope these were to your liking anon ^^

#.✨. #enstars #oukawa kohaku #kohaku oukawa #oukawa kohaku x reader #kohaku oukawa x reader #natsume sakasaki #sakasaki natsume #natsume sakasaki x reader #sakasaki natsume x reader #enstars x reader

[writing-whump]

Sorry, if this is rude.. but I'm really curious.

Why is puking such a large theme in your writing? Is it more of a whump fixation like 'emptying' oneself of their turmoil or is it more of a fetish fancy?

Again I'm sorry if this is a weird ask and please, feel free not to answer if it is.

Hmm, that is a good question.

I consider my writing to fall into the emeto category of whump. So it's like whump in terms of emeto?

I'm not entirely sure what fascinates me about it. But I feel like the biggest draw for me is the hurt/comfort potential.

Like feeling sick/puking is just incredibly vulnerable uncomfortable state, where you basically don't have control over yourself, you can't help what's happening, you can't really stop it...but it has so many causes and is so mundane in a sense? Everyone goes through it?

And it's gross. So I feel like whoever takes care of you during a sickness like that has to really really care, and you have to be comfortable and close for that comfort/intervention to not feel humiliating?

And it's exactly in this kind of state where genuine care, real friendships, close family or significant other come through to help you with what you need and can't help?

For me its like the ultimate expression of selfless, non-profit, not doing it for sex or attraction or good looks or "to look good" kind of love. And it's not something breezy and easy like a fever or a cold where you do something half-heartedly and it's done, it requires real overcoming yourself and your comfort zone?

Other thing is the whole caretaking like bellyrubs and gurgles that might have a sort of sexy/kink quality for me? The buildup and stuff? I'm not entirely sure, I explore this aspect of it more on other blogs, but it has a bity bity part of it in my fics too.

So it's kind of a mix between super selfless care and kind of sexy build up tension and vulnerability and a kind of exploration of sex and sexuality (in romantic smutty context! Not all fics are about this!!It isn't as high on my priorities in writing as the platonic aspects for example) that just feels a lot safer for me?

I'm not a fan of sex without a deep emotional connection, I'm super afraid of it, actually (which is not a trendy opinion right now). Casual sex is sort of a personal squick. My environment was very "sex bad! Sex unpure! Sex dangerous! It's a way people will use you!" (It took me a long time to figure out that sex itself isn't what bothers me. It's the casual kind of sex that does. Ergo why my world and OCs are so sensitive about touch and can't do casual hookups at all lol.).

So connecting this selfless kind of care with sexy kind of context creates the right comfort level for me.

Honestly, I don't know for sure. I think for me this ties into the debate of "is whump inherently sexual or not" and "where are the lines between whump and kink" and "are there kinks that are freaky or are they alright as long as it's consensual" and "is whump or h/c just an expression of desire for connection and care/being taken care of/caring"?

(I have read studies that suggest whump can be a substitute for vulnerability for asexual people or for people not currently having/being wary of sexual relationships).

Basically, the pure hurt/comfort and care and vulnerability is my favourite whump content. I'm here for the comfort, not for the hurt (not that there is anything wrong about the hurt itself I think). And emeto nicely ties into that.

#emeto #I mean why do we like certain kind of whump? #why does emeto exist? #is it something the writers of it share or does everyone have their own specific reason? #and we should simply accept it? #I don't know #gonna go hide somewhere now bye #ask #whump meta

[salted-caramel-tea]

So since you did it for Maneskin what's your favourite and least favourite dteam fits?

ok so i’m gonna be doing this in a more good-mid-bad format rather than best and worse bc it’s a little harder to judge these guys for their outfits bc most of their appearances are casual appearances and not stage or performance wear . so .

drm

good - the most recent pictures from his instagram about his tour idk if this is a tour outfit or what but this is a very well styled outfit . the colours are cohesive from head to toe the silhouette is loose and gives that trendy oversized almost modern grunge like feel with the red and black as well which suits him more than i expected it to tbh . huge fan of the cargo/parachute pants my only qualm is i’d go a bit heavier with accessories but i think this is super flattering

mid- streamys we all know this oen i’ve talked about it in depth this has rlly good potential to be a great outfit but the layering just felt really blocky to me it wasn’t the most flattering shape for him there was a lot of club lines around the neck area which was a little distracting could be improved by removing the hood i believe . and tucking in the shirt .

bad - the fucking la velada brown hoodie blazer combo deluxe whatever the fuck . i don’t like thin materials made into hoods or trying to replicate the effect of a hoodie to me personally it looks rather cheap despite the fact this garment costs an arm and a leg . it could also be tailored better for dream the proportions just seem off

ok gerog

good- streamer awards . y’all knew it was coming this is such a perfect outfit again it’s styled phenomenally. skipping the option of a tie or bow tie was genuinely the best option for geirge opening up those top buttons giving the area more volume more texture opening it up so you can see and appreciate the accessories with the chain and the tailoring on this outfit is incredible the fit is perfect it is so incredibly flattering on him no notes

mid - la velada . this wasn’t a bad outfit per day but like dreams streamy awards outfit it just felt too boxy . like there was layering going on but it wasn’t giving the desired effect for that kind of mix of textures keeping the shirt closed and untucked was just a little to much of. a straight silhouette for me

bad- this is just twitchcon he doesn’t dress up much so i picked this bc it’s still an outfit he wore to a major event and none of the colours r coordinated or look cohesive in the slightest but like it was a stretch to find something that fit my criteria of not casual instances

sappy

good - again i picked steamer awards i like this bc it keeps a lot of sapnap’s personality w the cap as his main accessory i love that and i think the all balck was a good choice for him i definitely think it’d be more flattering that a white shirt this is a good look for him my only qualm is that i wish it was tailored a little better but he looks fantastic

mid - again la velada i love this prada shirt it’s super interesting it’s just his kind of style but to me it just felt like there wa something missing maybe it’s the kind of thing i’d personally style as an over shirt maybe it needed to be like a half tuck situation unbutton the top button idk more texture was needed it was a little flat to me

bad - again this is just a casual photo it was a bit of a stretch for the criteria but i’m peroablly not a fan of the high neck sweater with basketball shorts it seems like it’s mixing two very different vibes i know the anime print is acting as the tie in from kind of smart casual of high necks to the leisure casual of the basketball shorts but it’s not two vibes that i would probably try to bring together . idk this just seems like more of a wide leg jeans sweater to me than basketball shorts .

[pplatonic]

Baby's First Pride

I'm 16 and a half years old. I came out to my parents inspired by a story at my school's GSA - just walk up the stairs and call it out. I was terrified, but they were accepting, and I learnt that my brother has trans friends and that Mom even experimented with girls when she was a teen. It's 5:10 PM, so it's probably time to go to the pride event Mom has been talking about all week. She said her boss told her about it, and that it's all ages. I get dressed in my Hatsune Miku cosplay, drape my Aromantic pride flag around my shoulders, and tie the ends in a reef knot around my neck to wear it as a cape.

I go downstairs, putting my Miku wallet in my bag, and take a short video of me twirling around to send it to my friends captioned 'ARO MIKU IS GOING TO PRIDE.' When I get outside, my parents and Mom's friend coo at my outfit, saying I look nice. They say goodbye to Mom's friend and they get ready, and they stop at Walmart to buy 'pride gear' to try and match my look. They get me pins, because they know I love pins.

I listen to my playlist of Magical Mirai albums as Dad drives us to the pride event. He does an illegal U-turn, and I tell him cops aren't allowed at pride, so we're okay. We park.

When we get there, the first thing we notice is all the food trucks. We ate before we came here, because they didn't think there'd be food. The first thing we do is Mom and Dad get alcoholic canned drinks, and they later buy me a cold vanilla latte at a different booth. We start walking around.

Mom's more interested in the concert being held by a queer artist who's name I didn't catch, and she jokes about us going to mosh there. I tell her it's dangerous and that I'm wearing my binder right now, and my dad comments that he didn't even notice.

While we're standing and waiting around, Dad perplexedly exclaims that there's a bar. I tell him as a joke that of course there's a bar, this is pride. He doesn't get it, so I explain the history of gay bars and the Mafia and all of that, and tell him the original pride parade was a protest where parking meters were uprooted and bricks were thrown at cops.

We start walking around to the several booths of queer creatives selling their art, and my eyes are battling between scouting for pins and looking at all the kinds of people here. It's truly all ages, from seniors to toddlers. I see as many visibly disabled and plus-size people as I do visibly abled and skinny people. When we first started walking in to the event, we saw a person in a cutesy lolita-styled outfit with cat ears and tail in the trans colours, in front of someone embracing their trans flag.

As I look around, I see various flags: bi, pan, lesbian, trans, nonbinary, genderfluid. On a couple people's shirts I see the ace flag. But as far as I'm aware, I'm the only person here in this entire crowd wearing the Aromantic flag. It's bittersweet, to be the sole representation of your people.

I see people in all styles of clothing as well: goth, punk, alternative, grunge, trendy, cute, casual, retro. I see some people standing out in absolutely fabulous outfits with sequins everywhere. I see a dog in a gay-coloured tutu, and a person with pride-coloured butterfly wings on their arms. Half the people here have dyed hair of some kind.

We sit down and take a break. It's near the mini waterpark nearby, which makes it fresh and cool-feeling and perfect for a break. A child with endless joys in their heart ends up spraying us with water, and we get a move on. I go around to multiple booths and buy an assortment of pins, one that says "I'M SO GAY I CAN'T EVEN THINK STRAIGHT" and one with a fuzzy Aro-coloured animal on it.

When we sit for a final break, I find two dirty books on the ground as Mom hands me a progress flag pin she found. I pick up the books. One is a 'queer history tour' of Edmonton brochure that has multiple locations of down-town and their associated queer histories. The other book is a mental wellness book targeted mainly at Indigenous folk, but I decide to take it any way since a lot of it advice applies to everyone. I show my Mom the page on ableist language, that talks about replacing words like 'crazy,' 'insane,' and 'psycho' with words like 'wild,' 'bananas,' and 'ridiculous.'

When we start walking back to the car, we see a group of four dressed ridiculously. One of them has massive, bouncing balloon tits, and they stand out the most. I'm afraid of what my parent's reaction will be, and this is what I told them to be nice about before we came, because pride was and still is a protest. They laugh and move on. I'm a little surprised that they're so cool with it.

We stop by the truck at the very start of the walk as Mom comments on it. It's a kink gear store. I stare in awe at the bear pride flag and leather puppy pride flag, telling my family about them. I have to ask one of them to confirm it's the leather puppy flag because I'm not wholly sure, and the people running the truck smile as they teach me about it.

We drive home, and as we walk back to the house, I think about Mom and Dad's reaction to the person with the balloon tits. I think about how they laughed kindly at one of the biggest displays of societal norm defiance I've ever seen. And then I think about the openly disabled people I saw with their pretty canes and wheelchairs, I think about the punks with fishnets and leather jackets and high boots, I think about the emo kandi kids with their black-and-rainbow stockings and vibrant kandi cuffs, I think about the booth run by African black people that stood for trans black liberation, I think about the truck run by kinksters decorated with historical flags, I think about the two feminine-presenting people I saw kissing and the transmasculine gay couple I saw holding hands.

I think about all of us, the societal outcasts that we are, proudly displaying what outcasted us in the first place, without a single person yelling that we're faggots, or trannies, or cripples, or fatasses, or freaks.

And for the first time in a long time, in all my childhood where I was ostracized from the girls for being too tomboyish from the boys for being born a girl, so badly until I started ostracizing myself, I know that I'm safe and welcome, somewhere in the world.

#pride #queer #trans #transgender #gay #pride events #queer writing #creative writing #queer community #queer pride #lgbtq #lgbtqia #f slur #t slur #c slur

[taibobo]

inside job master chef AU with rand JR and tamiko as judges . rand is a sort of casual crass judge, speaks very bluntly but is the one contestants want to impress the most. JR is your average rich restaurant goer so he wants intelligent and expertly crafted dishes with intense flavor profiles. tamiko is about that picturesque WOW factor and wants new and exciting flavor combinations and plating techniques

reagan: highly technical with a love for complicated gourmet michelin dishes. wants rands approval and is extremely mad about it. highly independent worker, and though i think she’d likely make it to the semifinals or finals she would likely face elimination in a team challenge or the restaurant takeover unless she was captain

gigi: great with visuals and infusing her atlanta background to create highly modern and beautiful looking dishes. likely works with a lot of trendy ingredients and dishes, so something like a mystery box challenge would pose a hard challenge for her as she has a very small range of dishes she’s comfortable with creating

andre: the wild card. makes strange, culturally diverse foods with highly conceptual and abstract ideas and flavor profiles. judges are constantly stumped by his abilities despite his usually quite casual demeanor in the master chef kitchen. crumbles under extreme pressure in the restaurant takeover at first, but as soon as he’s able to take a “bathroom break” he’s an instant star. definitely a possible finalist

brett: highly skilled cook, though not the best among the cast, but what he lacks in technique he makes up for in gusto and his understanding of what other people enjoy. his ability to tackle challenges is very headstrong because he wants to impress more than he wants to win. his palate is very sophisticated (from his parents) and his understanding of gourmet cuisine is very advanced (from his house staff), but i think if anyone yelled at him he would break like a fucking soggy cracker

myc: he’s in a human glamour on tv obviously, but i think it’d still be funny if he was an alien. the judges know this but the rest of the cast and the audience do not. because of this his concept of food combinations is quite literally beyond human understanding. tries to avoid using mushrooms and similar ingredients, but his palate and choices are insane, near on the level of andre. he’s fantastic at working with colors in plating, but i think some of his combinations and flavors may be a little too camp and clash. he’s kind of an asshole and would likely do badly in a team challenge unless he was with someone who could easily let his insults roll off like glenn (who’s used to them) or andre (who isn’t paying attention)

glenn: also fully human in this— hearty chef, great at cooking comfort food in large portions and has a lot of gumption with working with heavy machinery and butchery. a bit of a sore loser, but he has a great taste for protein especially and could out grill, out sear, and out marinate pretty much any other competitor. not as intelligent with plating but his knowledge of flavor profiles is very rational and he could definitely cook something he’s never eaten with little issue, especially a meat.

robotus: surprise competitor. technically near-perfect and conceptually has a deep understanding of several cultures and types of cooking. is even better at baking and could destroy a bakery challenge. however his food tends to lack ‘soul’ and creativity at first until he’s able to learn from the other competitors around him. i think he’d make a great finalist or semi finalist

#mycotxt #inside job #Having so much fun thinking about how characters cook yay!!!!!!!!!!

[faneposting-my-beloved]

Eternal fashion brainstorming [RESULTS BELOW]

If I want to redraw Fane's Godwoken novel chapter, I have to avoid what Larian has done and actually study the sources to glean the very basics out of them. Architecture, anatomy, clothing. So I started thinking.

I'd like to preface that I am basing my designs on what I headcanoned for the Eternal Era in Draconic Chronicle, which is:

There is no sun, only two moons out of which one is brighter >>LIGHT DEFICIENCY

Eternal Heritages that influence preferences and abilities >>INDICATOR OF SOCIAL STATUS

Anatomy. Eternals vary greatly from each other, so the clothes they produce have to fit an Orc as well as a Dwarf, so the fabrics have to shapeshift >>ENCHANTMENTS Now, to look at the sources at hand

The guidlines I've set for my designes based on my observations and canons

LIGHT is a defining factor of one's social status. The more luminosity you can afford to wear on your clothing, the more prestigious and well-off you seem. Glowing from up to toe is the domain of aristocracy like The Seven, while going completely dark can be seem as scandalous or rougish

MATERIAL. The fabrics have to stretch to fit various body shapes, and Eternals, being the masters of the Source, can reshape the literal reality around them. Hence conventional fabrics are replaced by woven stone, glass, light.

ANGLES. Because Eternals love 'em, that's why.

With that in mind, let's see what I have designed!

Fane [conservative, utilitarian] labcoat - bedwear - casual

Because he is the kind of man to consider a labcoat an everyday outfit!

I echoed the collar (the actual 'labcoat' part) in Harina's outfit. Her light ribbons, as well as overrobe, are shorter than Fane's - she is lower academic rank than him

Mae'ven [trendy, eccentric] casual - smart - adventurous

*middle outfit inspired by Eternal Aetera's robe*

Fane's wife (I hc her name now - Var'vadiya) everyday - smart -déshabillé

#eternals #dos2 #nerd makes up lore #nerd digs lore #divinity original sin 2 #fane #eternalposting

[i-did-not-mean-to]

Sugar and spice

My dear friend @lordoftherazzles has been good enough to submit a prompt.

As Razzy is a known and very skilled Bagginshielder, I have done my best to write a small treat for her with her blorbos.

I love you and I hope this makes you smile!

Words: 1,4 k

Warnings: Cursing and slight sexual innuendo

Characters: Bagginshield

Bilbo stared at his reflection in the mirror and decided that his cream-coloured button-down and the matching tan formal trousers were good enough for the ominous blind date he had been browbeaten into by his dear cousin Primula.

As far as he had understood the good woman – he had to admit that he had not entirely paid attention to her lengthy explanation – she and an unnamed friend of hers had organised what Primula was sure would turn out to be a very successful date.

With a deep sigh, Bilbo admitted that he loved his cousin more than he had ever told her and thus, he finally had agreed – not without putting up a little bit of a fight to keep things interesting, of course – to attend the proposed dinner in a shockingly expensive downtown restaurant that would be entirely financed by her magnanimous generosity.

Naturally, he found it incredibly insulting that she seemed so offended by his single status that she’d rope in not one but two other people to amend said circumstance, but he also knew that she meant well; moreover, he trusted her not to have chosen a complete dud. How bad could it be?

As soon as – upon arriving at the excessively upscale eatery – he informed the stuffy headwaiter of his arrival though and was consequently led to a secluded table – candles, cloth napkins, and the whole spiel in glaring evidence – he had to bite back a guffaw.

“Good evening Thorin,” he greeted casually and stretched out a jovial hand for the other man to shake.

“I should have known,” Thorin grinned with a boyish grimace that made his handsome face light up with mischief.

“I take it that the mysterious friend is Knitting-circle-Ori then,” Bilbo commented as he handed over his coat to the waiting server who did his best not to betray any kind of emotion.

Rifling through his hazy memories, Bilbo tried to recall the exact words Primula had used upon explaining how she had set up this romantic farce.

“You know him?” Thorin asked as he tapped his finger against his empty glass to signal his wish for another beer.

“We are in the same book club, yes,” Bilbo acquiesced without looking up from the wine menu; a dry white wine might do the trick, he thought, and promptly ordered a glass of crisp Pinot Gris from his favourite vineyard.

“He’s distant kin,” Thorin explained glumly. “Who is his co-conspirator?”

“My cousin Primula; she’s very close kin to me.” Bilbo couldn’t suppress his grin when Thorin’s face froze into a mask of shocked betrayal; apparently, Primula was known to him and he – like many a man before him – had been duped by her rosy complexion and her easy smiles.

“We met at a dart championship,” Thorin muttered morosely. “I’d never have thought her capable of such duplicity.”

He seemed visibly impressed with the devious machinations of two of the most placid and easy-going people in their lives, but Bilbo realised just as clearly that Primula and Ori had overlooked one crucial point: if they knew one another as well as their chosen victims, how on earth had they expected Bilbo and Thorin never to have met one another?

It was true that they had never spoken much, but – as two men past their prime who were interested in other men – they had necessarily crossed paths before.

“Well, you strike me as the kind of man who’d frequent this kind of establishment more often than me,” Thorin then said amiably, “so I defer to your wisdom. I cannot make head nor tail of half the things on the menu.”

As an avid foodie, Bilbo was in his element right away and they spent the next minutes sipping their drinks and philosophising about the truly awful names the wanna-be-trendy restaurant had slapped upon the most mundane of dishes.

When the much put-upon waiter finally had secured their orders, Bilbo leaned back in his chair and eyed Thorin with unabashed interest. He had believed himself past the age where bad boys in black shirts made his heart beat faster, but the quick wit and sparkling humour the man sitting across from him hid so masterfully under a thick layer of blasé pugnaciousness made his stomach clench with another kind of hunger.

Despite the silver streaks adorning that raven hair, Thorin could boast cheekbones one could cut cheese with and bright blue eyes that glinted with every word he spoke; he was a handsome man and moreover, surprisingly good company.

Indeed, the dinner ended up being – as predicted by a smug Primula – truly delightful. In truth, Bilbo generally dreaded overly formal settings and Thorin’s outspoken impatience with the pomp chased away much of the breathless, muted tension these establishments cultivated like precious fungi.

“Do you think they’ll check on us?” Thorin drawled, letting his eyes wander across the tastefully decorated room. Mindful of the potential scrutiny of the orchestrators of this date, they had decided to share a platter of miniature desserts – all of them delicious and disgracefully tiny – and were presently fighting discreetly for the last bite of mousse au chocolat.

He might have been an expert at throwing pointy things at cork boards, but Thorin was no match for Bilbo with a spoon and so he had to admit his defeat and withdraw, watching that gooey treasure disappear behind soft, plush lips.

The sound of sensual pleasure escaping Bilbo as he truly savoured his victory made Thorin’s skin tingle and he almost ordered another mousse just to hear it again; it had been some time since he had heard such bone-melting sounds fall like summer berries from the inviting, shapely mouth of another man who was neither an idiot nor a cold-blooded player.

“I guess that Primula will not be able to resist,” Bilbo finally replied, the tip of his tongue tracing his bottom lip slowly to make sure that he had not missed a single crumb of the sugary goodness they had just indulged in.

“Should we…” Thorin fell silent again, but he saw the echo of his own devious plan flare in those vivid, hazel eyes. A ferocious grin stretched across Bilbo’s soft, gentle face as he nodded ponderously.

“Yes,” he said, “yes, indeed, I think we should make them pay for their ill-advised idiocy!”

The restaurant sat at the end of a cul-de-sac like a plump housecat, but there were plenty of pubs and bars further up the street; it did not take long for the improbable couple to catch a glimpse of their respective tormentors, huddled by the front window of a cosy ice-cream parlour.

“What do you propose?” Bilbo asked, tilting up his face adoringly at Thorin while making sure that the yellowish light from the nearby streetlamp fell squarely on his soft features to make sure that his persiflage of an enamoured expression could easily be caught by the two knitting-needle-wielding fiends across the street.

“I don’t know,” Thorin replied without moving his mouth overmuch for fear that either one of their spectators would be able to read his lips. “How far are you willing to go?”

A small twitch of that button nose as Bilbo was pondering the question furiously made him lift his massive paw to cup Bilbo’s soft, beardless cheek and caress it with a lazy swirl of his cool thumb.

“Kiss me,” Bilbo then breathed, getting increasingly caught-up in a fantasy of his own making. “Do it as if you meant it!”

His eyes fluttered shut dramatically as Thorin bent down in slow-motion.

“Easy peasy lemon squeezy,” Thorin muttered into the steadily diminishing space between his own lips and Bilbo’s. “I’ll get back that last bit of mousse yet!”

Before Bilbo could either laugh or protest, firm lips – warm and surprisingly tender – were pressed against his own; his fingers flew up to card through that unexpectedly soft beard while his other hand clawed itself into a solid, strong shoulder.

Who would have thought that playing darts against Primula gave one that kind of body?

As Thorin deepened the kiss, his own hands coming to rest possessively on the small of Bilbo’s back, every rational thought of retribution and vengeful pretence flew apart.

Suddenly, the very same indecently tremulous sound slipped out of Bilbo’s mouth and melted in a cloud of chocolate and sugar on Thorin’s tongue.

“Fuck them,” Thorin groaned, tightening his hold on Bilbo’s soft body. “They might well have been right, damn them!”

“Thorin?” Bilbo looked up almost shyly, his tongue darting out once more to check his lips for overlooked delicacies. “You’ll never guess what is sitting in my fridge.”

“Please say it’s a mousse,” Thorin begged; in truth, he didn’t care one bit. All he really wanted was for this fake date not to end just yet.

“It’s a blueberry one,” Bilbo, pulling himself up by slinging his arms around Thorin’s neck, purred seductively into his ear. “Interested?”

So, @fellowshipofthefics, this was the third for today. @sunnyrosewritesstuff, I'll get onto yours as soon as I'm up and about again tomorrow.

Lots of love from me <3

#og post #fotfics #january trope roulette #fellowship of the fics #IDNMT writes #fanfiction #writing #tolkien #Modern!Au #Bagginshield #Thorin #Bilbo #Thilbo #Blind date #first kiss #mousse au chocolat #hints and references #pastiche and persiflage #I love you Razzy

[lazyscience]

fat clothes bullshit

As it is a fact universally known that once you hit double-digit sizes, clothing that isn’t fugly, uncomfortable, or both becomes hard to find on almost a logarithmic scale, I’ve always got an eye out for somewhere that doesn’t appear to hate its customers in order to spend my fat fashion dollar.

Most recently, I succumbed to the Universal Standard hype. The tl;dr: it is well-fitted decent quality basics for people of all sizes (from US size 00- 40). Every piece is available in every size -there aren’t different ‘plus’ styles - and most pieces come in a wide variety of colors.. It’s slightly more expensive than Torrid (about equivalent with Lane Bryant), and unlike either of those options it doesn’t look like 2003 threw up on it and died.

That said, when I say “basics” I do mean basic. There’s some pieces with construction interest to them like the Meridian asymmetric zip jackets, and there’s some tunics and dresses with interesting shapes, but for the most part it is very much wardrobe-staple type items in simple styles and almost zero prints/plaids/pattern of any kind, even just stripes.

In my opinion, that’s perfect because a) I have a deeply ambivalent relationship with girly shit, and b)  I’m a scarf/shawl/cowl knitter and a jewelry maker; solid colors are a great canvas for statement accessories. But if your jam is more high femme and print/detail interest than clean-lined bordering on gender neutral (a good amount of their clothing, although sized and tailored for AFAB, could certainly read nonbinary or agender depending on the pieces), you might find it uninspiring. However, you may still want to consider their pants and tees  as potential infrastructure to rotate more trendy/dainty pieces around if Torrid or LB is doing that for you now and you don’t love the (lack of) durability.

If any of that sounds like you would like to know more, more specific product reviews behind the readmore.

1) the T-rex/V-rex t-shirts are cotton/modal, soft but heavy enough that I didn’t get bra lines, the colors looked pretty faithful to how they were on screen (enough that I was able to match a pair of pants from another vendor and was still happy when able to physically put the two together) they’re neither baggy nor mad clingy/revealing, and they don’t feel like the hems will be unraveling and holes growing around the stitching after a season. The V of the v-neck does what it needs to do without showing bra; the crew neck that I was ambivalent about getting (wanted the color but generally don’t like crew necks) is cut wide enough that it’s got a little style and doesn’t feel like it’s strangling a person. They’re both decently long enough to not ride up and expose your back when you bend over/long enough to tuck in if that’s how you roll (I am 5′7″ for reference). They feel a lot more quality than Torrid’s basic V-necks and come in a LOT more colors, as long as they wash decently these are worth getting. Keep your eye out for sales.

2) the liquid jersey Genevette top - the fabric is amazing, it’s a slinky rayon that for something as soft as it is just falls straight down without sticking weirdly to any lumps, bumps or bulges. It’s an asymmetrical piece that on me at least falls long enough to be a good length to wear with leggings (same place as on the skinnier model displaying it, kudos to the people who graded the pattern and actually knew what they were doing). I’m just praying I don’t dump coffee on it or something. Will definitely acquire more pieces in this fabric if it washes well.

3) The Meridian Zip jacket’s two-way zipper is actually metal and heavy. It’s almost pure cotton and more structured than I was expecting; if you are looking for “cozy” this isn’t it. It is however warm, easy to wear and fashion enough to get away with in a business casual environment iif like me, sweaters make you itchy and blazers are annoyingly constricting and sweaty. (the autistic person’s go-to office layering piece!) Unfortunately, they’re out of a lot of colors right now after their Mystery Box event. II hope they restock or add more, I would definitely buy another one in the steel or navy if they had it in my size.

4) The sweats I got as a “mystery bonus” item I think they are the Hathaway Jersey Jogger - annoyingly, any “mystery” items you get still don’t have what product they are on the tags when you get them. This is dumb, because how are you supposed to order them again if you liked them? Anyway, they are heavy and soft - not fuzzy, but very drapey/silky unlike the Meridian jacket. They DO have pockets and DON’T have a drawstring, which are exactly what I’m looking for in lounge pants, hooray! I don’t know that I would have paid upfront what these cost for something that’s around-the-house or errand pants, but I’ll definitely be keeping my eye out for sales.

5) Universal Standard’s claim to fame are their jeans. To get a taste without a huge price commitment, I got a mystery box with some. I think the ones I ended up with are the Seine skinny midrise in dark wash (again, irritatingly, they are not labeled wth a product name because mystery box.) They are true to size (US gives both size measurements and individual product dimension measurements which is super nice), the waistband is not pinchy and nor does it gap in the back, pockets your whole hand fits in and they don’t creep if you’re getting up and down a lot (LOOKING AT YOU TORRID). The real test of jeans of course is how they come out of their first wash, but they’re a win on try-on and if they wash well, I’d be willing to buy at full price. It gives me some more confidence to try their work pants too, now that I have more faith that their sizing is actually as described.

#clothes #retail therapy #universal standard

[official-wonho]

[INTERVIEW] Wonho Has No Regrets And His ‘Bittersweet’ EP Says It All

“So, I couldn’t work out today,” Wonho casually says with a chuckle, as we wrap up a 40-minute conversation. “I tried to put it in between my schedule today, but I didn’t have time. So, I’m planning to do it after the Zoom calls.”

If you don’t know Wonho, it’s very Wonho of him to say that. After all, he is K-Pop’s Adonis — known to be an avid gym rat and a walking thirst trap to many. But beyond the strong looks, chiseled muscles and perfectly toned figure, Wonho’s thoughts on his music and work on this call are only a small, refreshing glimpse to how simple yet thoroughly eloquent he can be.

Seated in a conference room, dressed in a grungy black and white striped long sleeve, and occasionally shifting his gaze from the camera to elsewhere, out of frame — to what seems to be my face projected on a television screen, Wonho’s getup coincides with the sounds of his new lead single “Don’t Regret,” off of his single album Bittersweet. The song takes a shift from his usual pop, dance and electric sounds and leans toward a mesh of rock and ballad. Nonetheless, the “Open Mind” singer is in a good mood to take on this night-long press junket. And it has only just begun.

But he’s used to it by now, considering he’s been in the industry for over seven years. Not to mention, just successfully ended his first-ever European tour last month. (“Besides working out, I like sightseeing the streets of the particular place when flying abroad.”) His tone and tenor contains a sense of excitement, knowing he has new music to release just five days away.

Bittersweet is the name of his newest single album, and it contains two tracks, “No Regret” and “On & On,” both co-written by him. Ahead of the release, Uproxx got a chance to catch up with Wonho to discuss the album, the process and how it feels to be standing strong in the K-pop industry.

In the process of going from tour to preparing for your comeback, how do you do it all?

When it comes to my work schedule, the distribution of the work schedule is always well-coordinated by our company. For example, I came back to Korea and I practiced and then right before this interview, I had to film the promo – those liners and content and other Korean content/video contents that I had to shoot. Now, I’m on Zoom right now.

What made you want to name it Bittersweet?

So, it’s just about my story. I just wanted to tell my story – put my story in it. I was thinking of what kind of performances I can show myself while being trendy so I tried to incorporate those too in my mind.

Compared to your last releases, “Don’t Regret,” is more of a rock ballad, how did this come about?

So, I’ve always loved the genre of rock and I really enjoy it more these days because I know that rock is pretty trendy and famous in the music industry. I’m enjoying the music of 5 Seconds of Summer and Fall Out Boy at the moment!

Would you say “Don’t Regret,” is a personal motto you follow?

It’s a saying to myself that makes me look at the person rather than dwelling on the past itself. And it’s like a new challenge, from now on, to move forward as an artist and as a person too.

So, “Don’t Regret” is more of celebrating one’s self and “On & On” is more of moving on?

I would say it depends on how the listener and you interpret it? It is one of the themes that the song (“Don’t Regret”) has. Different people perceive it so I’m very happy that you interpreted it a particular way. It’s another interesting thing to me and you’re right on track about “On & On,” it’s talking about the past, moving forward.

And speaking of “On & On,” I actually made this song thinking about YUNHWAY from the beginning. I contacted her saying I really wanted her to do a collaboration with me. And the process itself was very smooth. The idea just came in, then the speed of the whole process of making this song was very quick.

What would you say is the best part of preparing for this release overall then?

I was very happy that I could give out the songs with this – the lyrics itself and super happy that I’m able to give out 2 songs to my fans. Before the release, so my fans wouldn’t know it right away but once they hear the song and see the lyrics, I’m pretty sure they will be happy.

For the lead track, I usually have the melody and the song itself. And I would often have the basic ideation of the lyrics so I would put it into the song itself that I needed first.

Any struggles?

When it comes to using different words or unique phrases that I wouldn’t often use, I find it kind of difficult. I still have a lot to say, still have a lot to share. It’s one of my agonies and I keep thinking to myself how would I express this in my music?

Since you just talked about expressing, you’ve been replying to your fans a lot on Twitter. How important is communication to you as an artist?

Wonho: If I didn’t have that, there’s no point in being an artist for me. I love hearing phrases like “I will always be by your side, Wonho.” Those are the most memorable notes I keep from my fans and having it brings me full support, strength, and energy. One of the driving motivations for me.

Read full article on uproxx.com

#wonho #221014 #t: interview #uproxx #era: bittersweet