Emberly

realizing that with me going to a wedding reception for an old friend on saturday, i not only risk running into my ex, but i also risk running into the girl who bullied me through high school

Hey yall, just wanted to give yall an update on me!
          
          I have been doing very well, very splendid. Dare I say doing good?
          Nothing in my life has been stressing me out. I'm not adventuring into something I've never done before! I'm not taking new responsibilities on at work! I'm not stuck feeling like I'm not enough!
          Nothing wrong with me :)
          
          
          
          
          jk
          
          april fools
          
          I need a few weeks of hiatus or else I will crash and burn :(
          
          see you guys in a few weeks

call me the 4th track on the hit album No Easy from Stray Kids the way I'm ssick

haven't written in 4 days because I've been too sick </3 everything hurts

HEESEUNG IS LEAVING ENHYPEN???

A breathy moan leaked from Seonghwa’s lips as Hongjoong’s fingertips traced over the slope of his shoulder, his skin flushed and burning him. The fabric of the gown fell, discarded, upon the floor, the heavy sound of their breathing swelling in the moment. The garment Hongjoong spent hours on, slaving on, was tossed off like it meant nothing.
          
          Hongjoong couldn’t wait another second.
          
          He pressed his lips against the arch of Seonghwa’s neck, tasting the faint scent of the rain outside and the lingering sweet floral perfume he always wore. His hands wandered upward, mapping the contours of his skin. Memorizing each and every crevice was the only thing filling his mind. Both his fingers and tongue sought to know him.
          
          Hongjoong could feel the way Seonghwa was holding back whimpers and moans, but also how he continued to lean in and press into the touch, silently demanding more.
          
          With seconds passing by, the line between creator and muse blurred.
          
          Seonghwa was pushed to the desk, the roll of fabric clattering to the ground as his back pressed into the surface. Hongjoong could feel how the model’s composure stuttered and frayed under his touch, replaced by a raw and passion that Hongjoong was eager to consume.
          
          “M-Mr. Kim, p-please-” Seonghwa gasped, fingers working with a shake to undo the buttons he wore.
          
          Hongjoong smirked against the hollow of his collarbone, savoring the frantic rhythm he could hear beating. “Seonghwa, please call me by my name,” he whispered, tongue darting across his skin.
          
          “Hongjoong,” he exhaled, dragging the designer closer. “I need you.”

“So you’re the man?” The model spoke, his voice simple and plain, yet strong-willed and echoing in the room. “The designer?”
          
          Hongjoong felt as though his sketchbook grew heavier in his arms. He straightened his posture, forcing his gaze to meet the other’s piercing gaze. “I am,” he replied, trying his hardest to hide the tremor in his voice.
          
          The stranger offered a curt nod. “Park Seonghwa,” he introduced, his voice carrying the air around him. "A pleasure to meet the visionaire behind such intricate work.” He took Hongjoon’s hand into his own, leaning down to place a simple peck to his knuckles. 
          Hongjoong’s pulse quickened as the model leaned closer. The space between them vanished, replaced by an intoxicating scent of florals that seemed to anchor Hongjoong to his spot.
          
          "The pleasure is all mine," Hongjoong replied. "You looked stunning walking the stage."
          
          “Then, I look forward to working with you, Mr. Kim.”

what do you mean sappy is #1 in changlix??????

“Get the fuck out of my house!”
          
          Minho heard the voice, loud and slurred, roar from his neighbor’s house. He stopped dead in his tracks in the cold night, still holding his binder close to his chest. Glancing towards the commotion, he could only watch as the front door was forced open with a little too much force, a small figure being forced onto the cold concrete.
          
          “You stupid, fucking ■■■■■■!”
          
          The wooden door was slammed shut. From the shadows of his neighbor’s porch, Minho could see the young boy stumble off the porch. To his chest, he clutched a worn-down backpack, and a guitar case hung from his back.
          
          The boy stumbled down the pavement, grumbling to himself, walking right in front of Minho.
          
          A sight too familiar to him.
          
          “Is he drunk again?” Minho asked.
          
          The boy froze in his path of fury and turned on his heels; the weight of the glare was felt even in the dark night. “Fuck you too, Minho,” he sneered. “How the fuck are you always around? Huh, watching me struggle and watching my life fall apart?”
          
          The boy was quick to get in his face, his eyes wild. One of his cheekbones was already beginning to bruise into a deep purple, and his lip was split as a single bead of blood made its way down his chin.
          
          Minho didn’t flinch at the violent venom dripping from Jisung’s words; instead, he wrapped an arm around his shoulders and pulled him into his embrace.
          
          “Come on, Jisung, let’s get you inside,” he coaxed.

I should be allowed to fight customers