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even-disco-baby · 1 year

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SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — “Hello again, gendarme.” He smiles at you— not from his usual post, but from one of the cafeteria tables. A small sketchbook is laid out in front of him, along with some odd gray sticks.

ENCYCLOPEDIA — Compressed graphite. Not quite as bold or blendable as charcoal, but certainly less messy.

EMPATHY — Garte will appreciate it.

“I’d like to talk about the case again.”

“You moved! I didn’t know you could do that.”

“What are you drawing?”

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — “That’s the question, isn’t it?” His smile turns a little rueful. “I found one of my old sketchbooks and thought I’d like to fill the last few empty pages, but I’m finding myself a little… uninspired.”

CONCEPTUALIZATION — The accursed artist’s block. Staring down an empty page only for it to stare back, mocking you.

EMPATHY — He is unsure of himself. He said this was an old sketchbook. Maybe he’s afraid of drawing something new beside his old work and seeing that nothing has changed.

“Ah, yes. Artist’s block. I know it well. In fact, I don’t know when the last time that I actually *made* any art was.”

“You could draw the cafeteria.”

“You could draw one of the other diners.”

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — “A life drawing exercise, huh? And who would you pick as a subject, gendarme?”

“I don’t know. You’re the artist.”

“Maybe Garte? The skua could be a fun challenge.”

“You should draw the guy with the wig and sunglasses over there. He looks pretty funny.”

“Lena! She’d probably love to model for you. It would take her mind off things.”

“Kim, how about you pose for him?”

[Suggestion - Medium 10] “Why not me?”

KIM KITSURAGI — “No.”

He has nothing more to say on the matter.

“Aw, why not? You’d make a great model!”

Let it go.

KIM KITSURAGI — “I do not get paid to model for portraits. I get paid to solve murders. Such as the one we came here to investigate. Several days ago. Which has not been solved yet, for some mysterious reason.”

ESPIRIT DE CORPS — In case you couldn’t tell, that was sarcasm.

“Come on, Kim. You’re the perfect subject! A true man of the people. And there’s this sort of radiance about you… I can see the portrait already, just looking at you. Really clearly, actually.”

Maybe don’t say that. He’s just not gonna get it.

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — He shrugs. “Sorry, gendarme. It’s not right to use someone’s image without permission, you know? Maybe some other time.”

KIM KITSURAGI — “No.” And then, a little awkwardly, “But thank you.”

“I don’t know. You’re the artist.”

“How about Garte? Though, you’d have to draw the skua, too…”

“You should draw the guy with the wig and sunglasses over there. He looks pretty funny.”

“Lena! She’d probably love to model for you. It would take her mind off things.”

“Kim, how about you pose for him?”

[Suggestion - Medium 10] “Why not me?”

CHECK SUCCESS

YOU — “Why not me?”

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — He considers you with some amusement, but still, he does consider. “You’re not too busy?”

“On second thought, you’re right, I have some work to do right now. Another time, maybe?”

“Nope. Not at all.”

KIM KITSURAGI — The lieutenant sighs audibly.

ESPIRIT DE CORPS — What did I *just* say?

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — He chuckles to himself, apparently quite tickled by the little comedy act you two are making of yourselves. “Beautiful. Why not? Have a seat. I’ll try not to keep you too long.”

KIM KITSURAGI — “Much appreciated,” he says drily.

YOU — [Take a seat.]

SAVOIR FAIRE — Time to strike a pose. Let’s go with something cool. Something that really captures what you’re all about.

ENDURANCE — But make sure it’s something that you’ll be able to hold comfortably.

Wink and shoot him your signature finger guns.

Look at him with big sad eyes like a shamed puppy.

Look thoughtfully into the middle distance, as if contemplating your own future masterpiece.

Stare straight at him with eyes that have seen how this world will end.

Hold your head up high. With *honor.*

Just sit and act natural. No need to put on airs.

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — He looks you up and down, thumbing his bottom lip. His eyes look brighter and more alert than you have ever seen them. And then, he picks up his graphite and begins to work.

His eyes dart between you and the page, his hand sweeping across the page in bold, practiced strokes. All traces of his earlier hesitation have vanished.

VOLITION — Sometimes, a little push is all we need.

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — Every now and then, he pauses to look up at you, and it’s almost unnerving to be the subject of whatever calculations are going on behind his eyes. He holds out his graphite, squinting just slightly.

VISUAL CALCULUS — This is called sighting. He’s roughly measuring the relative proportions of your figure and checking them against his sketch.

KIM KITSURAGI — Even the lieutenant is watching now, interested in spite of himself.

“Are portraits your specialty?”

“Have you been drawing anything for school lately?”

Better not distract him.

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — “Hmm…” He ponders this for a moment, not looking up from his work. “Not exactly. I’m more interested in the graphic arts than this sort of thing. But it’s best to build a strong foundation before branching out, you know?”

YOU — “Graphic arts? Like what?”

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — “Printmaking.” A small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth as he speaks, seemingly without him even noticing. “Monotype, especially.”

ENCYCLOPEDIA — Monotype is a printmaking technique that is singular from other techniques, in that it produces only *one* unique print, rather than an edition of multiple prints.

YOU — What, really? What’s the point of printing it, then?

ENCYCLOPEDIA — I don’t know. I didn’t invent it.

“Why monotype? Wouldn’t a different technique be more… practical?”

“I see.” [Drop the subject.]

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — He shrugs slightly, smudging a bit of graphite with a bare finger. “Depends on how you define practical, I suppose. If I had my own studio, and I was selling my prints, then maybe. But we make do with what we have, gendarme.”

EMPATHY — And what he has is very little.

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — “Besides, I think monotype has its charms.”

The young man does not elaborate, instead focusing on the work at hand. He picks up an eraser that has been shaved down to a point for fine detail work, and begins on what are likely the finishing touches.

EMPATHY — He has already talked at uncharacteristic length about this. It’s making him a little uncomfortable.

SAVOIR FAIRE — He doesn’t like to share too much about himself because it makes him feel *uncool.* He prefers to maintain an air of mystery.

RHETORIC — It’s safer, too, that way. He’s learned that passion exists to be exploited. False promises and admiration are the offerings of Sunday friends.

“If you say so.” [Back off.]

“What kind of charms?” [Press on.]

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — His eyes flit back to you, sizing you up now in a different way. And then he looks back down at the page with a quiet bre ath.

“Well, it doesn’t take as much time or labor as other methods. Or expensive tools, or dangerous chemicals. Just paper, a plate, ink, and something to apply it with. And I can use the same plate over and over again, even use it to create different layers for the same print.”

RHETORIC — In other words, it’s cheap and can be done from home. An attractive option.

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — “And with monotype, it’s not so hard to go back and change your mind. You can start over as many times as you’d like, right up until the moment you lay the page on the plate.”

INLAND EMPIRE — That really does sound attractive. To be able to wipe the slate clean, over and over again…

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — “There aren’t as many limits on what kind of textures you can create, too. Brushstrokes and fingerprints… They can really come out beautiful.”

His brow creases a little, and he picks his graphite back up to rework a particular area.

DRAMA — He’s still holding out on you, sire. Too self-conscious to admit what he really likes about the medium.

YOU — Which is what?

EMPATHY — Fragility.

CONCEPTUALIZATION — An image which is only complete after being mirrored and translated, never to be recreated except as a ghostly afterimage. An exercise in surrendering to chance. What will be, will be. And then the moment will pass, and it will be time to start the next piece.

VOLITION — This man knows disappointment intimately. It is his closest companion. He has learned to make peace with it. He passes the time with his Sunday friends, lays his paper on the plate and hopes, despite himself, for the best.

YOU — Is that… a good thing?

VOLITION — …It’s hard to say. But we make do with what we have.

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — “There.” The young man sits up straight, and it’s only now that you realize just how close he brought himself to his work.

DRAMA — His face may not betray him, but the body does not lie. He was having *fun,* my liege.

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — “All done.” He tears the page from his book and holds it out to you with a small smile.

ITEM GAINED: Portrait of a Disco Holdover

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — “Hope I didn’t keep you too long.”

KIM KITSURAGI — “Don’t worry about it,” Kim says, rather resignedly.

ESPIRIT DE CORPS — If you’d declined, the lieutenant thinks, my partner would have just found some other way to get sidetracked.

KIM KITSURAGI — Still, he cannot stop himself from glancing at the portrait over your shoulder.

PORTRAIT OF A DISCO HOLDOVER — It’s you! Unfortunately. Not even the most masterful hand could make the Expression less unsettling to look at. Your posture is poor, your face is swollen and blotchy, your hair is thinning, your clothes are shabby and out of place… I could go on.

Oh god, you could?

Please don’t.

PORTRAIT OF A DISCO HOLDOVER — But, you know… it’s nice. The smoker’s technique is bold and rather lovely, broad strokes of graphite intersecting in just the right places to create surprising depths. Somehow, even though it’s you… it’s not hideous.

EMPATHY — Because you’re seeing yourself through another person’s eyes.

CONCEPTUALIZATION — There is an odd tenderness to the portrait. Something amusing in your grimace, a touch of sympathy in your hunched shoulders. With the eraser, he has lifted small spots of pigment from your face, as if it were illuminated by flecks of light from the karaoke disco ball.

There are no disco lights tonight, but still, he sees them when he looks at you. Your moment has passed, but it left quite the impression. A ghost print, superimposed over you.

“Not bad, but the bicep girth is off. Right, Kim?”

“Oh god, is that really what I look like?”

“Hmm. It’s okay, but you should consider a backup career plan.”

“Whoa, you’re amazing! Can you draw me again, but this time in the costume from the cover of Man from Hjelmdall and the Devil Woman? And like, with a really cool warhammer? And Queen Lydiaana standing in the background, all like, ‘boohoo, where will I ever find another man like Ha— I mean, the Man from Hjelmdall?’”

“Beautiful.”

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — His smile climbs up into the corners of his eyes, warming his entire countenance.

CONCEPTUALIZATION — If you were to capture a portrait of him in this moment, it would be beautiful, too.

#disco elysium #harry du bois #the smoker on the balcony #kim kitsuragi #this one is. so self indulgent. i like the smoker i like to think abt him #and assign him my art student interests #anyway. oh the joy of making art and showing ppl what they rlly look like in your eyes #and oh the beauty of monotypes and printmaking and hoping for the best #GODDAMMIT I FUCKED UP THE FORMATTING AGAIN AND DIDNT CATCH IT UNTIL LIKE 12 HOURS LATER.#if you saw that. no you didn’t.

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1lenii · 10 months

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FAOTP, FaceTime!

E42!Miles x F!Reader

Basically what the title says

Falling asleep on the phone with Miles(works for both miles, I’m not picky 🥰

PLEASE TELL ME YA SEE WHAT I DID WITH THE PICTURE 🙏🏽 and maybe in the fic itself;)

I present the inspiration for this fic!!

Enjoy loves⭐️

****************************************************

“Cmon Ma, I promise it’ll be fun”

(Y/N) listens to Miles beg for the one chance opportunity as well as hearing the aggressive pressing of buttons on the controller he was holding.

Falling asleep on call.

(Y/N) isn’t opposed to the idea, if anything she’s all for it. Except for one factor.. Miles snores and more often then not when he’s over it disturbs (Y/N) beauty sleep.

“Miles..no”

Still considering the idea (Y/N) responds nonetheless

“Why~?”

“Cause you snore.. like really loud”

“Nuh uh, do not”

“Do too, I’ll tell you what. You get what you want if we make a deal”

Miles eyes her through his screen skeptical. Now twisting his off his headset and untangling the wire from from one of his twin braids shaking it loose, taking the phone which was propped up on the console.

“‘Nd that would be?”

“Cant flake out on our study dates”

“Pero ma eso no—”

“No buts. We’ve been over this” (Y/N) cuts him off with a click of her tongue

“Fine princesa, You have a deal” he smirks at the screen already getting ready to head to his bed

(Y/N) doing the same.

****************************************************

(Y/N) was dosing off as Miles passionately expresses about his art, and graphite and how he almost got caught cause his dad wasn’t in duty, instead was at a trip with his mom to San Juan. (🇵🇷)

Miles noticed this

“Hey mami”

(Y/N) takes a few seconds to process with her tired mind and responds with a faint ‘mhm’

“You tired?”

“No no not At all keep going, I enjoy your rambling”

(Y/N) tries to open her eyes completely, even with her futile attempt they go back to the siren shape from when she tired. Miles took a quick screen shot, one where (Y/N) did not notice.

Miles stopped for second to take in the sight of his lover. Shoulder cover in a thick warm comforter, the squeezed peluche under her hold peaking out from between her phone and the herself. And the faint light of her skin glowing in oppose to the light the is emiting

Right when Miles is about to continue his story he hears soft snores. Softly smiling to himself as he watches you sleep.

(I would assume due to Spiderman/prowler duties he doesn’t get much sleep so he’s able to stay up late)

Miles enjoys the moment as an idea pops into his head. He slowly shuffles to grab his phone pressing the + volume and turn off button and starts spamming screenshots of (Y/N) sleeping face to later set as a his Lock Screen.

Sooner or later Miles dozes off muting himself for the upcoming alarm in the morning set for 8:00 am (hate the am like not even tryna quote hobie anymore in really hate waking up early)

****************************************************

Miles wakes up gets ready to head out, and do his Mile errands while also stopping by (Y/N) dorm delivering her groceries as she usually forgets leaving her to crash at his due to the lack of snacks and food.

He inserts the keycard to enter, now leaving the groceries on the counter as well as his phone and keys to find (Y/N) now exiting her room.

“Goodmorning princess”

“Morning” (Y/N) strutted over to the counter sliding Miles phone from it previous spout while Miles puts away the groceries he got earlier.

“Miles. Que diablo is this.”

“What? You want me to leave my girl starving?”

Miles looks over his shoulder knowing that’s not what his lover meant, just to see (Y/N) on his phone.

Opening the phone with her Face ID, she’s stares wide eyed at the phone, a picture taken back when she was barely awake last night

“Last time falling asleep on the phone with you Morales”

(Y/N) hops outta her seat at the counter heading back to her room, mumbling a bunch of i hate you’s and never again’a

Miles closes the cabinet laughing while trailing after his girlfriend

The phone all forgotten about.

****************************************************

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armysantiny · 4 months

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Perfect Little Pet – KHJ

P: Hongjoong x afab gender neutral reader | G: smut, oneshot | Inc: cruella!au, cruella!hongjoong, assistant!reader, 'Captain', 'pet', Felix mention, journalist!Wooyoung, Yunho mention, Wooyoung/Yunho mention, set in the UK, Trafalgar Square, flaring tempers i.e. Hongjoong's, fashion studio, cruella movie-esque fashion show, Hongjoong occasionally abusing his power, wet dreams, fwb ending, a lot of British references and general mannerisms, two smut scenes | Wc: 5.9k

W: d/s tones, 'Captain' used during sex, bent over the desk, dom!Joong, sub!reader, overstim, begging, wet dreams, blowjob, cumshot on face, backshot during sex, one/two uses of the word slut, 'pet' used during sex (please let me know if I've forgotten anything, I'm writing this post up at 1 am)| R: 18+ mdni

Summary: Captain. Anyone who’s anyone knows who that is; none other but the rising name in fashion and making a name for himself for his eye-catching and punk-inspired shows. And right there in the back, is obedient little y/n, the childhood friend. The assistant to the Captain and one of the few to know Hongjoong for who he is behind the scenes, uptight and frantic and so achingly desperate to be perfect. Good thing they’re the Captain’s perfect little pet.

Min's notes: We're starting the year off strong! And you may have figured it out already, but @hee0soo, I'm your secret santa! I had so so so much fun writing this, you have no idea. When I tell you I was giggling like an idiot when you answered my question in the server, it was perfect. I hope you like reading this! And this happens to be my longest fic <33 also, 'on the dole' = on benefits hehe

There’s graphite on his hands, smudged all over the sketchbook, and Hongjoong takes another look at the plain mannequin standing by its lonesome in his office. Something’s missing, he knows it. Is it the hem? The length of the sleeves? Whatever it is, Hongjoong can’t bloody tell and it’s driving him up the wall. The designer groans, dissatisfied with own progress and discards the sketchbook on his desk. He gets up with just as much frustration, boots stomping across the floor in the direction of the balcony. His production facility looms below him, hard at work.

Almost taunting him.

“Just one more…” he mutters, taking a reluctant step back into his seat, “one more of the bloody things and I’ll be ready for runway…” Sure, it is self-imposed encouragement, but it is encouragement. Hongjoong isn’t a beggar. He’ll take what he can get. And take, of course. Until his pencil simply drags along the paper with no real goal and he snaps the dastardly thing between his sleek fingers, throwing its remains against the closest wall. It clatters to the floor just as the frustrated designer storms towards the door to his office, opening it and unleashing a powerful tension upon the production floor.

“Bring y/n up here!”

Y/n shivers from where they stand, helping move a box of supplies into the stock room. No matter how long they’ve stood by Hongjoong’s side, there is nothing that will help them get used to the sound of him barking out a command like that. A frustrated Hongjoong is a live wire – temperamental, snappy, and not someone to be approached without caution. They freeze with the box for just a moment before it’s taken out of their hands by one of the new starters.

“Captain sounds pretty miffed,” they say, pulling on the sleeve of their hoodie, “go on, I’ve got this!”

“If you’re sure…”

“Course I am luv, go on already~” And y/n is all but gently shoved out of the stock room, left to face their employer. And childhood friend.

All eyes are on y/n as they walk through the building towards those ever-familiar stairs, trying to ignore the weight of everyone’s gaze. It’s just Hongjoong, our Joongie, there’s nothing to be anxious over, their mind repeats, heels clicking along the wooden panelling amongst the unusual human silence. Seconds go by excruciatingly slowly, and finally, y/n stands in front of Hongjoong’s office. One steadying breath, and then another.

The door opens before they have a chance to knock, Hongjoong all but yanking his assistant inside and locking the door behind them both. There’s an impatient energy in the room, furthered even more by the fact y/n watches their friend pull them along to the mannequin and frantically go about putting his prized mannequin back by the window where it overlooks the production floor.

“Lean against the wall for me, will ya?” Hongjoong asks, reaching for his sketchbook once again, certain he’s found a muse in y/n. They have this gait around them that would work just so well with his new line, it would be criminal if he doesn’t capture it on paper at least once. Well, perhaps a few times, because the creativity comes back with a vengeance. His pencil glides along the cartridge paper with ease, framing y/’s silhouette perfectly and a grin erupts on his face.

Finally. Finally, he can make a start on creating the showstopper piece.

Time is but an illusion as Hongjoong works on his piece, occasionally looking up to really solidify the vision he’s got in mind. Y/n’s holding themselves just the way he needs them to, providing just the right amount of feedback and silence he needs, and Hongjoong might as well be inside a creative paradise of his own making. He’s found the right formula. He’s found his new muse, perfectly shaped in the image of y/n, his little assistant. The outfit seems to come together all on its own as he draws, each stroke of the pencil working in tandem with each other to create a look he knows will absolutely shock the viewing public in Trafalgar Square.

It’s around an hour later when the design is finally complete, Hongjoong’s mind at ease as he does one last look over everything. He’s done it. The look is perfect. There is just one thing…

He’s rather hungry now.

“Right,” he starts, setting his sketchbook down, “that’s us done here y/n, thanks again pet~”

“O-oh, it’s no prob—”

“But do get us a spot of lunch, would you? I’ve been dying to try out that new brunch café. I want either a chicken alfredo or a chicken Caesar salad, understood?” He tosses y/n his wallet as they begin to leave, turning on his heel and collapsing into his office chair with a yawn.

“Your regular coffee too, Captain?” Y/n asks. Oh, what a darling they are.

“You know me too well~ of course I want my coffee. I want them both here by the half hour.”

“Yes, Captain.”

Checking the time as they leave the café, y/n breathes a sigh of relief: they’ve got at least another fifteen minutes to make it back to the factory if they can get to Hongjoong’s favourite coffee spot before the lunchtime rush, otherwise they’ll be late. So, they make a break for it, taking extra care to leave their Captain’s lunch flat in their bag lest they have alfredo decorate the inside of the gifted Nevada Leather Weekender slung over their shoulder. The coffee spot itself is only a few metres away, less than a few minutes to run, but every second counts in the world of the Captain.

Lady Fate is on their side it seems, because there absolutely no sign of a queue, or even the beginnings of one, when y/n makes it to the coffee shop. Aurora, a quaint little place y/n remembers Hongjoong spending almost every free minute in before they watched their friend shoot to success, when they were still just two friends with a dream. Their running slows to a brisk walk as they enter, greeting the barista with a smile and getting a card ready as soon as they confirm they’re after the usual iced latte with two extra shots of espresso and a shot of vanilla. Once payment goes through and the coffee is in their hands, y/n is out of there in a heartbeat, eager to make it back in time.

“Look at you~ exactly two minutes early,” Hongjoong muses as he sees y/n walk into his office. He pockets his stopwatch, hangs his custom-made coat on the coatrack and takes his coffee. “If there’s anyone I trust to make coffee the way I like it, it’s that pretty one with the deep voice. Face of an angel, but, God, that voice?”

Oh. His lunch is on the desk, but y/n is still here.

Strange.

“Well, are you waiting for me to say something? Run along now, pet, go… oh, I don’t know, busy yourself until I need you.” He chuckles, shooing them away and waving with his fingers once y/n is finally out of the door and Hongjoong can eat his lunch in private, just the way he likes.

Y/n’s bag slides down their arm and onto the floor of their studio flat as they step inside, well-earned exhaustion lacing their bones and pulling a yawn out of their mouth as they fall onto their sofa. They’re used to running all over London for Hongjoong, sure – hell, their daily step count always passes ten thousand – but it’s the weeks leading up to one of his planned fashion event-hijackings that y/n truly feels the burn. Where they truly feel pushed to their tether.

But it’s always worth it in the end, they remind themselves in between making themselves a cup of tea, watching the kettle boil. Together, they will achieve worldwide success, their brand – Silver Light – will be in every boutique and everyone will know who the Captain is. Y/n spoons a teaspoon of sugar into the mug, pops in the teabag and pours the boiling water and milk, huffing at the connection their mind puts together.

They’re the teaspoon of sugar. Not the main event, no, but an addition to make things sweeter. To make Hongjoong’s plans sweeter.

“New sources and evidence have since come to light regarding the hijacking of Oxford Circus last week. The impromptu fashion show was caused by the organisation called Silver Light, headed by someone calling themselves the ‘Captain’, who witnesses say was armed with a cane, yet no one has been harmed. Following an insider comment…”

The rest of the news story plays on tv, y/n’s interest piqued when they recognise the journalist behind it all. One of Hongjoong’s newer friends, a trusted insider working for the BBC that y/n’s met a good few times. They grab their phone from its charger, unplugging it and dialling the number they’re looking for. It’s a few seconds before they hear the call pick up on the other end of the line.

“Can it be~?” Wooyoung’s voice sings through the phone, “the Captain’s assistant is calling little ol’ me~?”

“Good evening to you too, Wooyoung.” Y/n laughs, ever fond of the charming journalist. “I’m watching your news report tonight, my… you know just how to create the right kind of excitement. A master with words, one would say. Just how do you it~?”

“Y/n, darling,” y/n can almost see the playful rolling of the journalist’s eyes, “you’re flattering me, you know? But flattery gets you everywhere with me, so thank you ever so much.”

The conversation goes on for another half hour, y/n giving Wooyoung all the subtle information he needs to create the next buzz around Silver Light’s next big show. There needs to be a sizable crowd for Trafalgar next week, and Wooyoung is just the right person to weave his words and create that buzz y/n knows Hongjoong is looking for. All manner of press and paparazzi should be there; Silver Light needs to be on the front cover of every broadsheet and tabloid in England.

And when they switch to video call so Wooyoung can jot everything down, y/n chooses to ignore the knowing glance sent their way. They’ve had this conversation before, plenty of times even – concern that all of y/n’s efforts aren’t their own will, that Hongjoong’s somehow forcing them to be his assistant. That couldn’t be further from the truth.

They make themselves another cup of tea, and sigh when Wooyoung still refuses to back down.

“Woo, I know that look,” they sigh, already knowing what comes next. The concern, the lecturing. The you’re being his servant, y/n, you deserve more than that. “This isn’t something Hongjoong is making me do, I really do want Silver Light to succeed. This is my dream too, even if it doesn't look like I want it as much as he does, or it looks like he’s forcing me.”

“Y/n…”

“Have a little faith in me, hm?” They bargain. “I’ll be fine, I promise.”

“If you say so—” Wooyoung’s gaze snaps to something above the camera, “oh, Yunho’s home, he brought food! See you soon y/n~”

“See you soon, say hi to Yunho for me.”

The call ends, and y/n is left with their thoughts, a hot cup of tea, and a muted news channel playing on their tv. Rather than let themselves succumb to the impeding thoughts on the horizon, y/n sips on their tea, unmutes their tv and scrolls through BBC iPlayer until they find the most recent unwatched episode of MasterChef and hits play. The thought manages to persist, though.

Are they just Hongjoong’s errand runner? A simple cog in the machine that Hongjoong pays just that bit more attention to than the others?

Hongjoong’s footsteps echo along the floor as he walks through the production floor, inspecting every station as he passes them by. The Trafalgar show is but days away and he cannot afford a single error whatsoever. He’s counting on this one to be a success; Wooyoung’s articles have created the right kind of stir he needs, y/n’s been busting their ass helping him with the finer details, the last thing Hongjoong needs is his plan falling apart.

So why the fuck can he see someone stitching a button incorrectly?

“You!” He barks, storming over to the unsuspecting employee, fury lining his brows. It stuns the rest of the room into silence, terror in their eyes as they watch. “Are you trying to ruin this week’s show?! Just what the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?!”

They shiver, the poor thing, watching as Hongjoong furiously inspects the garment for any more errors. It’s a simple mistake really, a small oversight but they know better. Everyone at Silver Light knows better:

Captain doesn’t give second chances.

But then Hongjoong smiles. Not a genuine one by any means, no, but something that’s a little too sweet.

“What’s your name, darling?”

“M-my name is Felix, Captain—” whatever Felix tries to say is cut off by a heart-attack inducing bang, Hongjoong’s cane slamming down on their workstation in the blink of an eye. The shock sends Felix tumbling, and they prick their thumb on a fashion pin, droplets of blood staining the floor where they stand.

“Oh, just get out!”

“Captain, wait! P-please!”

“You’re fired, get out!”

A pin-drop silence echoes through the building, Hongjoong’s frustration palpable to everyone watching. The workstation is unmanned now, no one remaining to take the task, yet the buttons still need to be taken out and resewn on. Properly, this time. Exhaling, Hongjoong slips his cap off in favour of brushing his hand through his hair, the black and white split-dye messing up and framing his face.

What he needs right now, is y/n to make his problem go away. To be his reliable ally and fix the problem in his way.

He pats his coat down, looking for his phone and almost wants to cry out in relief when he finds the infernal device in his back pocket. A deep breath slips past his lips, and he calls y/n.

And like the angel they are, y/n picks up.

“…Joong?” They rasp out, clearly still tired. “It’s my day off, is everything alright over there?”

No, everything is not alright, Hongjoong wants to rant, the stress itching away at under his skin.

“I really, really wish it was, pet. How fast can you get here?” He asks, praying that the rustling he hears from the other end is y/n changing into their usual work outfit.

“Y/n? Pet?”

“Still here!” They call out, and Hongjoong has half the mind to kiss them when they arrive. “Just checked the traffic, I can make it in twenty?”

“Make it fifteen and I’ll get you that pretty gem of a car you’ve had your eye on.” Hongjoong offers, huffing out a laugh when y/n readily agrees, and the line goes dead seconds later. They’re on their way to Silver Light, and all his problems will be solved. For whom else can Kim Hongjoong rely on other than his y/n?

The clock ticks by agonisingly slowly, teasing Captain with every second that y/n is still on their way. Sure, he can fix this specific coat that Felix so wonderfully fucked up, but there’s a whole line of these that need to be done, and the designer is only human. He can’t do this alone. But he can relax because as soon as Captain resigns himself to hand-stitching every coat, y/n comes in through the door, hurrying over to the workstation and shoo-ing Captain away.

“And you fired him?! Over a button?!” Y/n asks, completely baffled as they listen to Hongjoong rant while they’re stitching the buttons properly. “You really have lost your marbles, Kim Hongjoong.”

“But you still came to my aid! Y/n, you know I couldn’t do all of this without you~” They deadpan, scoffing with smile they can’t control when Hongjoong latches himself onto their back in gratitude. “You’ll be able to handle doing the rest of the coat buttons, right?

Y/n rolls their eyes. They can handle it.

“Bring Felix back, and I’ll stay until the end of the day,” they bargain.

“Deal!”

Y/n doesn’t regret offering to help Hongjoong, really, they don’t, but they have a day off in the middle of the week for a reason. Exhaustion nips away them as they finish the last of the coat buttons, hanging the last one on the rack and patting the sleep out of their face as best they can. Felix is back inside, replacing y/n at his workstation with a meek smile and y/n doesn’t know whether to be happy the young man is back or give the split-dyed designer running the entire outfit a piece of their mind—

And Hongjoong’s calling them into his office.

There’s a corkboard standing when they enter, Hongjoong pinning post-its with various last-minute details. It’s chaotic — more so than usual. Y/n takes a few steps towards the board, reading Hongjoong’s ideas and avoiding the eccentric designer running circles around them.

“Why the last-second rush around?” They ask, still obediently helping Hongjoong sort out his mismatch of written thoughts. “I thought we figured all the details? You’re going to smash the event, Joong, I know what you’re capable of.”

“Awe, thanks y/n~” Hongjoong pats their shoulder. “Your unwavering faith in me is awe inspiring~”

“Oh, shut up,” y/n laughs, then yawns. Bloody hell, they’re tired. “I know I said I was going to stay for the rest of the day, but I’m asleep on my feet here... I can come in tomorrow?” It’s a risky bargain trying to convince Hongjoong like this, but it’s worth a try.

“Y/n, pet... You’re just fine, just sit in here for a bit,” and there goes their chance at rest as Hongjoong admonishes them. “And I need that brilliant mind of yours for later; can’t have you sitting at home, now can we~?”

No, no he can’t apparently. So, y/n stays, because of course they do.

But now it’s a day before the big hijack, at the god-awful time of one in the morning and Hongjoong is still deliberating over what to wear for the event, lovingly dubbed Project Trafalgar by his darling y/n. Y/n, who answered his messages only half an hour before and watches Hongjoong run around from their spot on his bed, legs crossed and looking oh so cute.

So easily corruptible. But he stores that thought away.

Hongjoong holds up one of his favourite blazers for y/n, a navy cropped piece he’s admittedly worn far too many times. It’s supposed to go with the rest of his outfit that’s already spent a good few hours working on, one that’s going to blow people’s minds away when he reveals himself once Project Trafalgar finishes successfully. Y/n tilts their head, examining the clothing and giving a sleepy thumbs up, nodding their head as they approve of his choices.

“You know~” Hongjoong sings as he goes to hang the blazer up in preparation for tomorrow. “Sometimes I think you’re the true genius behind our success, you always know just how to make everything look absolutely perfect.”

Y/n laughs, and Hongjoong wants to hear more of it.

“Is that Kim Hongjoong appreciating me I hear?” They tease, and Hongjoong gets to hear more of that endearing laugh when he mock-glares in their direction. “I’m just taking the mick, relax. I appreciate what you said, this is important to me. Silver Light and yourself.”

“You’re important me to me too, pet.” And it’s true.

His outfit hung up and decided, Hongjoong finally starts to feel the pull of exhaustion himself. Y/n really wasn’t lying when they said the designer was going to crash from his adrenaline high. He stretches, lithe and cat-like, and disappears into his ensuite to change into something a bit more… suitable for sleeping after an all-nighter putting together his outfit. His cleanser and other nighttime hygiene products are on the shelf above the sink, and Hongjoong figures that he might as well get started removing the stress of the day from his face.

“Y/n, darling,” he starts, “do you think that—”

Hongjoong stops talking when he gets no answering noise in return, and he pokes his head out of his bathroom. Y/n is asleep. He chuckles; of course, y/n is asleep because unlike himself, y/n actually has a normal sleep schedule.

So, he forgoes the question was going to ask them in favour of heading to his bed, lifting’s y/n’s head and resting it on his lap after he sits down. Their hair is soft, he finds, loosely getting his fingers tangled as he finds a strange comfort in the moment he's found himself in. The silence doesn’t help either; letting Hongjoong’s mind spill out words of gratitude he knows his pride would never let him say. It’s better that way, anyway.

But Captain isn’t entirely devoid of basic human empathy.

“Get some rest, pet,” he mutters, “you earned it, my busy little assistant.”

Hongjoong shivers, his head thrown back on the sofa of his flat as he watches y/n through near-shut eyes. They’ve got the head of his cock in their mouth, swirling their tongue around the tip and good lord does Hongjoong want to just buck his hips into y/n’s warm, pretty mouth and—

Not yet. Not if he wants to stretch this out and enjoy it just that little bit longer.

But apparently, he isn’t the only impatient one in the room because y/n wastes no time in getting more of his length inside their mouth, hand wrapping around the remainder. Cold hands and a warm mouth are a killer combination, and Hongjoong shivers with a groan, bucking his hips forward and enjoying the sound of y/n’s muffled surprise.

“Don’t you start acting like that, pet,” he says, reaching down to grab their hair. He gives a few testing thrusts and fuck does he want more. “You’re just as eager as I am, you and I both bloody well know that.”

A rhythm develops, one that has sinful noises bouncing around Hongjoong’s flat and a coil of heat building in his abdomen, his orgasm drawing closer by the minute. Y/n’s moans send vibrations up his cock, and it’s really not all that fair. Not when he’s trying so hard not to just shoot his load down y/n’s pretty throat.

But fuck if y/n isn’t trying to suck his soul out, their criminally talented tongue making his cock twitch. Higher and higher his voice climbs, until his hips are twitching, breaking his rhythm and Hongjoong wraps his legs around y/n’s back, gently forcing them to look him in the eye.

“Where do you want it, pet?” He’s met with y/n’s questioning blink before they tap their face and their chest. “Fucking tease, want me to paint you in my cum? That right, baby?”

They nod, pulling themselves of Hongjoong and yanking off their top in record time. His cock is in their mouth again, twitching as the coil builds and builds, until Hongjoong pulls out, pulling y/n’s face back and coming with a shout of their name.

“Fuck, darling...that was—"

Y/n’s startled awake when Hongjoong shoots up out of bed, watching through tired eyes as the frazzled man looks around the bedroom. They do the same, deciding under the cloud of sleep to not question how and why they ended up in the same bed, but whatever time it is, is no humane time to be awake. So, y/n pads around for their phone, checks the time, and groans.

It’s three in the morning.

“Joong...everything okay?” They ask, shrugging the cover over their face, eager to return to sleep.

“Hm? Oh— yes, yes... everything’s fine, just have Trafalgar on my mind.” Of course, he does. They roll their eyes, an affectionate chuckle and reach over to yank him back down, filing away the sound of Hongjoong’s squeak in the depths of their mind.

“Go back to sleep, love…it’s too early for you to fret.” Y/n says, the comfort of their words wrapped in the inviting warmth of sleep. They fall back asleep just as well, quickly enough that they miss the tint on Hongjoong’s face and his mumbled agreement.

There is all but one precious hour until Project Trafalgar is underway, and Captain has been fidgeting with his hands for the last half of it. He goes through every step of the process once, twice and he’s about to go through it a third time when Captain feels a hand on his shoulder. It’s y/n, and he takes a few deep breaths as per their instructions as his mind hits the breaks on his fretting.

“Captain, you’re doing it again.” They admonish. He blinks; he’s doing what? “Bloody hell, you’re the greatest fashion visionary in British history, this will go perfectly. Ok?”

“Ok.” Captain nods, maintaining eye contact. Reliable little y/n, always by his side. He keeps up with the eye contact, looking into the eyes watching him with so much confidence and unbridled trust that he can feel the confidence resurface under his own skin.

And then y/n leans forward to peck his lips, and his heart does a thing.

“Go on, show them all who Silver Light’s captain is.” Y/n chuckles.

“Are you saying they forgot, pet?” Hongjoong counters, the need to fret over last minute details gone entirely. “Tonight, will be unforgettable, I can promise you that much pet. Make sure you’re watching, hm?”

And watch, y/n does, as they stay hidden away from the obvious police presence Silver Light seems to attract and watch as Captain’s show begins. The music is loud, attention-grabbing and y/n feels excitement light up every nerve in their body. Months. Months and months of sweat, blood and tears has gone into every moment, and they watch the models come into view, each wearing an individual piece from Captain’s new line. It’s gorgeous. Utterly stunning, and y/n can’t help but snap a few pictures and record a quick video.

They’re going to need material to send to Wooyoung, after all.

The next half of the models make their appearance, and y/n very much joins the crowd’s cheering, clapping as each piece is given its moment and basking in the theatrics of it all. Everything sings with Hongjoong’s personal touch. It’s dramatic and elegant and everything that y/n knows to be the essence of Hongjoong’s taste and the Silver Light brand. The crowds are loud, and y/n uses the opportunity to slip away unnoticed from the police and the general public, back into the safehouse Silver Light had so kindly borrowed for tonight’s event. Sure, they’re going to miss when Hongjoong reveals himself and scatters leaflets inviting everyone to purchase an item from his collection, but they’ve seen that all before.

And then they fall asleep on the closest sofa.

Hongjoong bounces in with excitement as he pushes the door of the safehouse wide open, the leftover adrenaline coursing through his veins. He laughs, victorious and gleeful before yanking a now wide-awake y/n.

“Someone looks happy~” they comment, and Hongjoong stops outside his makeshift office, letting his adrenaline take the lead and planting a kiss on their lips.

“Oh, y/n,” he exclaims, pushing open the door and pulling y/n inside. “You have no idea! My darling pet, I~ will be making good on that promise I made.”

And almost immediately he has y/n pressed against the wall as he captures their lips in a kiss, eager and finally getting to act on that bundle of unspoken desire in his chest. A hand is cupping their cheek, tilting y/n’s head as Hongjoong’s tongue pushes past their bottom lip, demanding entry in the only way he can. He explores the warmth he had dreamt about, a chuckle sounding in his throat as y/n’s mouths feels just as good as he had imagined.

“Perfect…” he whispers, a trail of saliva connecting their mouths as he pulls away. “my perfect, perfect y/n…”

Hongjoong gasps in pleasant surprise when y/n makes the move to attack his neck, kissing and sucking on his skin with vigour. He relents, exposing his neck for his darling y/n and busies himself with the task of removing their clothes. By simply ripping them clean off, enjoying the surprised whimper that vibrates against his neck. He pulls them back just that little bit, running his gaze across their exposed body and—

Oh, how pretty his y/n is.

The hairs on the back of y/n’s neck stand up under Hongjoong’s eyes as heavy breaths leave their lips. This is happening now, and they want it, no matter what tonight will do to their friendship with the man in front of them. Whatever lingering hesitations they’ve ever had go out the window, and y/n wastes no time themselves in removing Hongjoong’s clothes, just that bit gentler about it than him.

“Pretty little pet,” they shiver as Hongjoong whispers in their ear. “Want to be good for me, don’t you?”

And they do. They really, really do.

Somewhere in between heated touches and the new hickeys being made on their skin, y/n watches as Hongjoong sinks to his knees, grabbing the inside of their thighs and getting dangerously close to their cunt. He’s taking his time, kissing just close enough to their folds, making y/n twitch in anticipation, but it’s not enough. They want more. Y/n needs more. So, they buck their hips, chasing the feeling but whimper the moment Hongjoong pulls himself away and holds them still.

“You said you’d be good for me, pet, didn’t you?” They nod.

“Then beg. Beg for me to get my mouth on that gorgeous little cunt like the good little slut we both know you are for me.”

So, y/n begs. Pleads with Hongjoong to shove his face in between their legs and eat them out until their knees buckle, for him to push his lithe fingers inside and wring cries out of their mouth. For Hongjoong to fuck them.

Satisfied, Hongjoong digs his fingers into y/n’s thighs as he pulls their legs apart, tutting as his favourite little pet tries closing their legs, suddenly shy. What, did they think he was joking?

“Still or I leave you like this, understand?”

“Yes, yes Captain…” And Hongjoong likes that.

“You keep calling me that, pet.” He says, and wastes no time in pulling himself closer, licking a fat stripe along y/n’s folds. They’re wet, and Hongjoong goes to town, indulging himself and sucking on the sensitive flesh until his nose is buried in y/n’s cunt, drinking up the sounds of his pet’s gasps and whines, his title a song on their lips. He keeps going, bringing his fingers to y/n’s untouched clit, rubbing against the bud in achingly slow circles.

He spends minutes like this, slipping two of his fingers inside y/n’s sopping cunt and sparing little mercy as he coaxes them closer and closer to orgasm. Hongjoong’s cock is stiff in his dress pants, straining against the fabric and the taste on y/n on his tongue is going to make him fucking come if he isn’t careful. He peers up from where he’s kneeling between their legs, hooded eyes making contact with the desperation looking back at him.

“Hong— Captain! Please!” Y/n cries when Hongjoong slips a third finger inside them, hands scrambling for purchase against the wall of the office. They’re close, so achingly close and fucking dammit they need to come so badly. But Hongjoong doesn’t relent, raising a brow and watching them writhe where they stand.

“Please, what, pet?” He taunts. “Use your words like the good pet you are.”

“I— I want to come! Please, Captain, I’m so— fuck, fuck— so close, I need—” Whatever words they want to say are stolen out of their throat, replaced instead by an overwhelming pleasure that has them squeezing their eyes shut, at the mercy of Hongjoong’s will. It’s unrelenting, and soon enough their orgasm is crashing through them, shooting stars through their vision all the while Hongjoong makes them ride it out on his fingers, the man getting off his knees and pulling them into a heated kiss. They can taste themselves on his lips, and it only spurs on another wave of desire.

They’re bent over the desk when the last of the first aftershocks leave their systems, head held back by neck as Hongjoong whispers dirty promises and slides his cock into their inviting – and only a little sensitive – cunt. A second goes by, the designer allowing y/n to only just get used to it before he starts thrusting, a leisurely quick pace.

“All this time, darling,” Hongjoong groans from above them,” all this time I could have had this perfect body of yours bent over my desk. Made for me, you were, absolutely made for me.”

And fuck, aren’t they just?

Hongjoong can’t hold back anymore, and he presses his chest against y/n’s back, pounding away into their tight hole and groping their chest in his hands, nipples caught in between thumb and index finger. Y/n’s cries are only motivation, and in the few seconds it takes for him to figure out the best angle, Hongjoong decides he’s allowed to chase his own high, giving into the devil on his shoulder and biting on the soft flesh of y/n shoulder.

“It’s so much, oh god—”

“Fuck- just a little longer pet, c’mon,” he rasps, his own orgasm well within reach. “Where do you want it, hm? You can answer that much, can’t you?”

“Yes, yes, fuck— on my back, I want it on my back!” And what else is Hongjoong to do, but oblige? He fucks them into them with the slightest hint of abandon, holding y/n impossibly closer and the orgasm builds, and builds, until he’s pulling out and coming onto their back with a drawn-out moan, his hips stuttering as the waves of pleasure begin to die down.

Exhaustion makes its way into the room, but it’s welcome this time, as Hongjoong very graciously helps y/n rest on the sofa he’d luckily had moved inside the office. There’s some wipes and a towel, and he makes quick work of cleaning the both of them up, ruffling up y/n’s hair when they watch him, almost surprised.

“And what’s that look for?” He huffs, tossing the used wipes away and patting them both dry. “I’m not that bad.”

Y/n simply laughs and shakes their head. They’re rather cute sometimes.

“Just,” they gesture to the office and between the two of them, “all of this; the event, the sex, the… us, I guess? I’m going to be sore tomorrow but fuck, that was amazing.”

Hongjoong nods along as he heads over to his desk and pulls out two water bottles, handing one to y/n as he sits down beside them, the pair donning robes. Nothing but the finest cotton, of course. There’s a silence that overcomes the rooms, and Hongjoong welcomes it – y/n too, sinking into the plush cushions and eying the evidence of sex in the room.

And then Hongjoong breaks the three minutes of silence, because his mind suddenly craves an answer.

“Y/n, pet… do you think this will change anything?”

“Between us, you mean?” He nods.

“Well, you’re treating me the same way you normally do, I don’t exactly want to date you…seems pretty same-y to me.” Y/n reasons, but then they pause. “Though, the sex continuing would be a pretty nice bonus~”

Hongjoong laughs, “so our little relationship is on the dole then, is it?”

“Oh shut up, you.”

Networks: @kwritersworld, @kdiarynet, @ultkpopnetwork, @whipped-kpop-creators, @ateezlovenet, @cromernet

If you’ve made it this far, thank you for reading! Consider reblogging, leaving some feedback or donating to my kofi!

Taglist: @teeztheflag, @jeonqquk, @mikailo666, @blonghoonie, @xavi-in-kpopland, @marxenash, @tinystarstay | Taglist form

#Writer Elf Minnie #kwritersworldnet #kdiarynet #ultkpop #wkcnet #ateezlovenet #cromernet #ateez #ateez hongjoong #hongjoong smut #ateez smut #ateez x reader #hongjoong x reader #ateez au #hongjoong au

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sassycheesecake · 11 months

Text

A/N: I saw this earlier today and Iwa-chan first popped into my mind. Have fun reading lol.

Warnings: slightly suggestive

Genre: fluff

You’re just doing the dishes on a normal Tuesday afternoon, when your phone rings.

Setting aside the plate you were just scrubbing down, you dry your hands with the kitchen towel on the counter before grabbing your vibrating phone.

You don’t recognize the number that’s calling you, so you frown in confusion before swiping your lock screen to answer it.

“Hello, this is (Y/N) speaking.“

“Good afternoon, am I speaking to the spouse of Lieutenant Iwaizumi Hajime?“

You feel your heart drop in your stomach, already fearing the worst: death, accident, arrest, murder, sudden enlistment,…

You gulp down with a heavy heart and answer back.

“Y-Yes, this is them.“

“Hello this is Captain Shimazaki speaking. I am calling to inform you that your spouse Lieutenant Iwaizumi Hajime came into work with a bruise on his neck. Actually multiple dark bruises along his neck.” He stops to cough awkwardly. “Although he looked pretty satisfied and happy this morning, please move your love marks down, so they can’t be seen when in uniform.“

You can feel your face heat up a thousand degrees, utterly embarrassed and wishing to sink 500 feet into the ground to disappear.

“U-Uhm s-sure, I will remember that for next time.“

For next time? Could you have worded that any worse?

“Appreciate it. Have a good day.“

“You as well, goodbye.“

You hang up simultaneously and put your phone down on the counter, leaning both hands on the cool graphite stone to actually process what just happened.

Too much distracted in your thoughts, you don’t even hear the front door unlock.

“Hey baby, I am home.“ Iwaizumi loudly greets you as he steps inside your shared home.

Taking his shoes off and putting them neatly by the door, he waits for your greeting back but receives nothing.

He saw your car in the driveway, so you have to be home.

“(Y/N)?“ The brunette calls out again, this time a little bit louder.

His rough voice finally snaps you out of your trance and you turn to look at him and the first thing you notice are the scattered hickeys along his neck.

Iwaizumi‘s face melts into concern, as he takes in your face. You look like you‘ve seen a ghost because your eyes widen in horror as you stare at your husband.

“Babe, what's wrong? You are as pale as a sheet of paper.“ With deep worry in his voice, he quickly approaches you and puts his warm hands around your face to grasp it gently.

“Uhm.“ You don’t know how to start this conversation.

“Well, your uh… I guess your boss called me earlier, basically saying I should tone it down a notch with uh… my marks on you.“

Iwaizumi takes a few seconds after hearing your words and all of sudden he bursts out laughing.

Slightly jumping at his sudden reaction, you are now even more confused.

“Gosh, this day keeps getting better and better. First I got to make love to my beautiful partner last night and this morning and then had a great day at work and now you’re telling me that you’re the one who should calm down with your marks on me?“ He keeps on laughing and steps closer to you, wrapping his arms around your waist and gently pushing you against the counter.

He leans in and slightly growls in your ear.

“Good thing they can’t see all those markings I left on you last night.“

Something hard starts to press against your stomach.

“Hajime, you can’t be serious.“

You can feel him pressing rough kisses against your neck, occasionally giving you bites and licks that make you swoon and melt on the spot.

“Come on, mark me up some more. Want to show everyone how sexy and seductive my drop dead gorgeous spouse can be.“

You give in and let him carry you bridal style to your bedroom, both of you leaving marks on each other and both of you so exhausted that Iwaizumi and you call in sick for the next day.

@rukia-uchiha-98 @wake-uptoreality @nerd-of-karasuno

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyū!!#hq x reader #hq fluff #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi haijime x reader #iwaizumi x y/n #iwaizumi fanfic #military!Iwaizumi #based on a post #iwaizumi hajime #iwaizumi x you #haikyuu iwaizumi

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rosefinch07 · 5 days

Text

I got a drabble idea not long enough for ao3 so bam

Jason and Damian had been paired up for their patrol route. Jaime held back a laugh as Damian made not so subtle attempts at breaking away from them.

Blue Beetle and Red Hood were a package deal at this point whenever they were in the same state, so Robin was patrolling with the both of them

At the tail end of the route, Hood had dropped down to street level in order to go to one of his informants.

Fully splitting up wasn't exactly an option with a preteen at your side, it would end in disaster and then no one would have backup. They couldn't go down to Jay either, given that it would break the informant's trust.

Jaime sighed, crouching on the edge of the rooftop with Robin beside him.

Staying on the rooftop it was.

Robin's fists clenched. It was as if the kid was actually getting antsy.

"You like drawing, no?" Jaime broke the silence.

Robin nodded.

"Indeed."

Jaime hummed. His elytra buzzed against his back, a steady vibration to fill the air.

"What medium do you frequent?"

Robin tilted his head in thought.

"Pastels, chalks, charcoal." He switched to a sitting position. "I also enjoy graphite."

Jaime kept his eyes on the door that Red Hood had gone through. It was a convenience store. Was he done meeting with the informant yet?

"Have you ever thought about trying sidewalk art? It sounds a little childish, I know, but you look like you never got the chalk bucket out of the class bin at recess." He said.

"I have, actually." Robin scoffed. "It would be nice to do it again. Grackle Grub in the alumni columns is a horrible replacement for recess." He mourned.

Jaime chuckled.

"I'll see when the next fun event at the office is." He promised.

Robin made a noise of interest.

There was movement.

Jay walked out the convenience store with a bag. He climbed back up to the roof and dug into the bag as he walked towards them.

"Five Hour Energy." He threw the bottle at Jaime and he caught it easily. "Canned boba tea." Robin caught the can that flew his way. "Freaks, the two of you."

"Says the malta drinker." Jaime teased.

"They didn't have it in stock." Jason huffed before gently bonking their heads together.

Robin popped the tab on his can.

"Did you even get anything good or did we take the pitstop for nothing?"

"You'll see back in the cave. Night's young."

Jaime yawned before chugging his bottle.

"Cariño, it is four A.M." He sighed. "Signal's getting up for weekend patrol in an hour. I have to go to court at eight."

Robin puffed up his chest.

"Hood is correct. The night is still in its infancy."

"Nene, don't encourage him."

#rose finch fic rambles #jaime reyes #gunbug #jason todd #jaime reyes x jason todd #jason x jaime #jaime x jason #jason todd x jaime reyes #blue beetle #red hood #damian wayne #robin

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hh0320 · 2 years

Text

☆ 🖇️ 𖥻 ＜꒱

— 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞.

pairing: art school! hyunjin x fem! reader (+felix)

genre: light enemies to lovers, love at first sight, angst, smut, barista (y/n).

warnings: profanity, jealousy, mature themes, chainsmoker hyunjin, unprotected sex, mentions of death (very brief).

word count: 4.6k

🏷 : @ughbehavior ty sm for your help! 🤍

i. 08:43am

Hyunjin was contemplating murder.

“You’re holding up the line, hotshot,” he deadpanned, burning holes in the dude’s back.

Awful pick up line cut in half, the man of the hour turned around, eyeing Hyunjin’s stoic face.

Well, not so much eyeing, all things considered. More like looking up, intimidation failing to quite…reach. Hyunjin wasn’t the tallest of men, standing at 5’ 10’’, but this guy was a fucking joke.

You couldn’t seriously be entertaining him.

Hyunjin grinned down at him, honeycomb hair falling in his eyes. “Scutter along, playboy.”

The man was too stunned to speak, grabbing his drink and fucking off to wherever he’d come from. Fucking finally.

You weren’t amused, to say the least, but then again, you never were when it came to him. Instead, you glared. Hard.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” he smiled warmly at you, hands resting against the counter, arms flexing.

Your gaze dropped to the veins popping through his skin. You blinked, once, twice—ah, there it was, Hyunjin thought.

That rosy blush that painted your cheeks every time he did that—it made him weak inside. He wanted to see you blush for him, but in a different setting entirely.

Specifically, under him—

“What can I get you, Hyunjin? Surely you don’t come just to scare away my customers,” you snarled, wiping the espresso machine.

He ignored your little comment. “And, surely, you, my angel, know my order by now.”

He noticed the way your breath caught at the pet name, enjoying watching you make his coffee, flustered, avoiding his stare.

It had started as harmless teasing; freshman Hyunjin had walked into this small coffee shop, craving an iced americano, sketchbook in hand, excited about starting art school.

And then you’d turned around, and— well. Well. Hyunjin had never been in love, but he was pretty sure that was fucking it. You’d ruined him for any other person.

Too bad you hated his fucking existence. He’d tried his best everyday, to be soft, to tone down that damn sarcasm that always got him in trouble. He left you generous tips, came to hang out after or in between classes, sketching away as he stole glances at you.

You had called him a stalker, and he’d laughed in your face.

“A psychopath, then,” you’d claimed.

“Only for you, sweetheart. Why don’t you tell me your name?”

“Fuck off.”

He’d smirked at you, arms crossing over his chest. “I’ll take my time breaking you, angel.”

“I’d like to see you try, pretty boy.”

So he did. And, fuck, has it been fun, because he could see, underneath the tough exterior, and adorable mean faces, you secretly loved it. The attention he gave you, his overprotective ness of you, how jealous he’d get when boys would try to flirt with you.

You knew, deep down—you belonged with him. You did ever since he found you, almost two years ago.

Hyunjin carried himself with a sort of elegant arrogance; popularity had come to him easy. His talent was unmatchable—a product of numerous hours of hard work; acrylics, oils, coal, he’d practiced it all, and he can’t not admit that it had been lonely, locked inside a room, thoughts turned into color, painting becoming an undistinguishable extension of him.

Had the brushes and the pencils, and the papers not been there, he wouldn’t have survived. Perhaps, some thought that to be an over exaggeration , but there had been nothing else for him, except this.

The smell of graphite, the hard callouses whispering of softwood—blank, textured paper waiting to be filled. All he’s known.

And then you. His coffee shop girl.

ii. 15:31pm

“Put that out, it’s disgusting,” you commented, picking up after a table that had just left.

Hyunjin sat by the door, smoking, sipping on his coffee. Sun out, and a pleasant wind blowing, his sketchbook lay open on the pavement.

“What do I get if I do?” He dared, turning to you.

You had a beautiful neck, he’d always thought so. Sometimes he thought you did it on purpose; clipping your hair away, exposing it. He wanted to leave open mouthed kisses along the side, just below your ear, traveling down to your collarbone—

Hyunjin looked away, tongue licking against the inside of his cheek, and took a drag of his cigarette.

You mused over his question, tray in hand. “I don’t know, a longer life span, maybe?” You said sarcastically.

He hummed, chuckling. “Tempting as it is, sweetheart, I’ll pass.”

You raised your eyebrows, taking him in. Mid length, soft looking hair, sunglasses hiding, what you know to be dark brown eyes, an oversized t-shirt, and blue jeans, with black vans. Rings adorning long fingers.

Picture perfect boyfriend material.

And yet, he got on your last nerve every time he opened his mouth. You couldn’t figure out what it was, exactly—maybe the relentless flirting, or the smugness of him. But it was a shame, because he—

Well, he was fucking hot.

You shook your head, denying your own thoughts.

“Suit yourself, prince. That’s just what I think,” you went to pass by him, to go inside, but his hand shot out to stop you, grabbing your wrist.

You gasped, trying to balance the tray in your palm again, and looked down at him angrily.

“Are you fucking crazy, Hyunjin? All these glasses could’ve smashed on your head!”

He smiled at that, moving his sunglasses to the top of his head, squinting up at you. His hand was warm against your skin.

Ignore it, ignore it, ignore it—

“I would, for you,” he said. “Quit. I would do it for you.”

You didn’t know what to say to that, so you went to pull away from his grasp. He let you, that same smile staying on his full lips.

Your heart skipped several beats, bewildered. He confused the hell out of you, with his pet names, and longing looks. But you couldn’t ignore your mind, telling you what a bad idea it was to let such a person in.

He’d ruin you. There was no getting over someone like Hwang Hyunjin, that you were sure of.

Later, when he brought his empty coffee mug inside, he left a piece of paper underneath it.

Pretending to clean, you avoided him, making sure he was well gone before taking a peak at what it was.

A sketch of you—of your profile, more like, pouring a shot of espresso in a to go cup, colored in innocent pastel markers.

There your heart went again, betraying you. You looked around, before shoving the picture in your bag, dusting off your apron, awkwardly.

You hated Hwang Hyunjin. He was conceited, and pompous—he thought everything revolved around him. Talented, no question, but you wouldn’t fall for it.

You wouldn’t fall for him, period. You absolutely refused.

iii. 09:02am

Lee Felix would be your new coworker, your manager announced, and went back to his receipts.

“Train him good, yeah?”

You remained in your place behind the counter, broom in hand, staring at his blonde head and constellation freckles.

“Hi, (Y/N)!” He waved at you, beaming, as he grabbed an apron, and awaited instructions.

You knew Lee Felix—he was Hyunjin’s best friend, from what you’d gathered. At times, they’d walk in together, one iced americano, one strawberry smoothie, looking like they’d just jumped out of a magazine cover, and it would be very hard not to gape at them the whole time.

Felix was the extreme opposite of Hyunjin; this boy was made of the purest sunlight, the kindest customer you’ve ever had. He always asked how you were, and made small talk with you, as his friend scowled, and stared at you. Felix didn’t give borderline creepy vibes, unlike some—he was a genuinely sweet person, that always managed to make your day simply by smiling your way.

But—he hated coffee, always complained that the smell of it made him nauseous, so—what was he doing, working here?

You couldn’t help but be suspicious of his motives. You hoped it had nothing to do with a certain ‘I’d quit for you’ boy.

Not that everything had to do with him—

Ugh. Thinking of that interaction had your stomach doing backflips, and you weren’t certain if that was good or bad.

“Hey, star shine,” you gave him a small smile. “Ready to learn?”

He wasn’t horrible. He caught on fast, and tried his best, but the menu was long, and the recipes extensive, so it would take him a while no matter how bright he was. Not to mention working the espresso machine, something that had troubled you greatly—working with you he’d be okay, but if he ever was to open by himself... Suffice to say, you’d have your hands full for a bit.

Around lunch time, you made him his signature smoothie as a reward. Felix perked up at it, putting the straw between his lips, and chugging the entire thing.

“You’re the best,” he said, watching you prepare some pick up orders, back turned to the door.

“Eh… I’ve just worked here for too long,” you replied, simply, looking up when the little bell signaled a new customer.

“I got it! Hello, how—Hyun!”

Fuck. You put the Frappuccino’s in the cooler, filling plastic cups with ice. Anything to distract you.

“My two favorite people working together, huh?”

Felix laughed, leaning across the counter to greet his friend. You couldn’t help it, then, you caved.

Hyunjin was standing tall, and handsome, in his workshop overalls, paint all over them, a white t-shirt underneath, hair away from his face, in a half bun.

You nearly gave in. No person should be allowed to look that effortlessly good, especially when that person was supposed to be the enemy.

But why? Why did he have to be? Sure, he had a big ego, and rattled your nerves incessantly, but—that surely wasn’t reason enough?

You realized then, there was no justifiable cause for your hatred towards him. You just convinced yourself to dislike him, shoving him in a box and keeping him there, just cause of a smart comment he’d made when he first met you.

That was years ago.

Your heart told you it wouldn’t be for long. You can only deny the truth for so long.

Fuck.

iv. 18:10pm

Locking the shop, you threw the keys in your bag, turning to walk to the bus station.

You would’ve done exactly so, if you hadn’t noticed Hyunjin sitting on the stairs outside his school, cigarette in hand, sketching away. Normally, you’d leave him to it—many evenings he sat there, in his own world.

But today, he looked upset.

It’s none of my business—

But what if he needs someone?

Felix had classes, where is he at?

Sighing, you clenched your bag closer to your body, and crossed the street. You closed the distance between you, careful not to scare him, and even then you second guessed yourself.

You weren’t entirely sure why you felt responsible to fix his mood. But Hyunjin was rarely so visibly distressed, in all the time you knew him. He’d fake anger, sure, when he kicked male customers out with his snarky comments, and mean looks, but you’d never seen him this closed up.

You silently sat down next to him, peaking at his sketchbook. He was outlining the wings of a very intricate butterfly, tobacco ashes smudging the page.

“Hello, sweetheart,” he murmured, not once lifting his head.

“Hey…” you trailed off, not really knowing what to say. “What are you doing?”

He brought the cigarette to his lips, hair sheltering his face. His pencil continued its way to the main body of the butterfly, slightly shading the edges of the wings.

“Making a gift.”

A gift? You nodded, even though he couldn’t see you. “It looks pretty.”

He exhaled through his nose, smoke coming out of his nostrils. Then, he finally tilted his head towards you, face supported by his hand.

Your mouth opened, and closed. Hyunjin was sad—the kind that withered flowers, brought clouds, and caused rain.

You did not like seeing him like this, at all. You’d much prefer the cocky boy that was obsessed with bitter coffee, if that meant he got to keep smiling.

Perhaps, you cared about Hwang Hyunjin more than you let on. Perhaps, that terrified you.

“Why are you here, angel? Thought you hated me,” he said, putting the cigarette butt out.

“Yeah, I thought so too.”

He stared at you, unblinking, and then moved ever so slightly, ever so slowly—

He kissed you.

And it was many things, but his lips tasted like smoke and mint, his lips were soft and plumb against yours—he kissed you like he didn’t mean to, but couldn’t help himself, guarded and yet entirely at your mercy.

You kissed back. And you understood, then—you’ve always loved him.

Always dreaded him.

It very much felt like hate.

His hands cupped your cheeks, softly caressing the skin with his thumbs, his hair tickling you, his breath mixing with your own. You fall, and fall, fall fall fall, leaning deeper into the kiss, into him, and he lets you, guides you, opens the door greeting you warmly—

This is what I’ve been feeling for you. This is what I feel, and for the longest time I thought you felt nothing.

You pulled back, getting up suddenly. Losing your footing, you almost collapse on top of him, but he holds you up by your arm. You’re panting, denying, denying, denying, scared, fucking shaking, because—

What if you lost him? What if it ended? You’d build your walls up, keeping him out for this exact reason.

No one gets over someone like Hwang Hyunjin.

You had caved in, and you had lost already.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” you told him, overwhelmed, panicking.

He looked at you from his place at the stairs, unmoving, quiet.

“You shouldn’t have—you—I,” you took a deep breath, willing your thoughts to make sense, “I hate you, I—I’m sorry, I just wanted to see if you’re alright.”

Hyunjin took his time closing his sketchbook, while you stumbled over your words. He took out his lighter, lighting what would be the last cigarette of his pack, taking a long drag of it, meanwhile never taking his eyes off of your embarrassed figure.

You were blushing profusely, looking at anything but him.

“I’m alright, sweetheart,” he finally replied. “Are you?”

You had to leave. “I’m sorry, I can’t—”

Hyunjin watched you go in a hurry. And even though, you freaked out and ran away from him, the fact that you kissed back made all the difference.

v. 08:35am

The next day, Felix opened with you, so he could begin to learn the routine of the morning shift.

Hyunjin didn’t come in, as he usually did on a Thursday. If Felix knew something, he didn’t say, instead focusing on grinding coffee beans, merrily humming to the song that played low throughout the shop.

After a rush—students getting their caffeine fix before classes started—it was just you and Felix again, wiping surfaces, and cutting cake slices for the display.

You had to ask. You had to ask, because it was killing you. You didn’t sleep a wink, instead running through the events of the stairs. You could still feel Hyunjin on your lips, even after washing your face, even when hours passed, and you lay wide awake on your twin sized bed, praying he would seep through your skin, at last, so you wouldn’t feel the ghost of him remaining.

“I have a question.” You braced for impact, thinking this would definitely get back to Hyunjin.

Felix threw an irresistible smile at you, waiting. “Shoot!”

You chewed on your lip, before breathing deeply. “I saw Hyunjin yesterday, by the stairs… Is—is he okay? He looked sad.”

Felix pursed his lips, and took a sip of his smoothie. “His mom’s one year death anniversary was yesterday.”

What? Oh my God. And you made it all about you, telling him you hated him, and disappearing on him after he took a risk kissing you!

You were a horrible person. If anything, you were the self absorbed one—you’d never asked, never cared—if he was okay, if he was having a good day. Yet, he always did.

In his own way. But he did, nonetheless.

“He never told you?”

You shook your head.

“I’m guessing he didn’t want you to pity him. He really likes you, you know.”

To that, you nodded, shamefully. “I do, too.”

Felix raised his eyebrows, smirking. “About damn time, no?”

“Now how about you tell him that?”

vi. 19:47pm

On Saturday, Hyunjin showed up just as you were about to close.

Dressed in jeans, and a band tee, hair wet falling across his forehead, he waited patiently by the door, while you gathered your stuff, lollipop hanging from his mouth.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he said softly, as you moved past him.

Shop closed for the day, you two walked side by side, in comfortable silence. The sky was a thousand colors, and the weather was warm—life didn’t feel real, with him by you, like this.

“What’s with the lollipop?” You asked, trying hard not to look at him directly.

It was unfair to look that good sucking on candy.

“I quit smoking.”

‘I’d do it. For you.’

After everything, you couldn’t bring yourself to act as you did before, around him. It had seemed forever ago that your feelings for him were hostile.

You were incredibly ashamed of how you’d treated him. Everyone’s fighting a silent war, used to be something you’d tell yourself everyday, going through high school, but there you were, not giving the time of day to a guy that, if you were being totally honest, protected you from weirdo’s on the daily.

Challenged you, made your days interesting just by lightly teasing you. He never crossed a line, never insulted you.

“What’s that you got there?” He asked you, changing the subject, looking at the bag you were carrying.

You looked at it, too, remembering it was there. “Oh! Strawberry cake. It came fresh today, and I wanted to try it.”

You both looked up at the same time, eyes locking.

“Angel…” he seemed in a trance, time stopping.

Angel. Before, you’d roll your eyes, call bullshit. Today, where you stood, that word coming from his lips was heavenly.

You wished for nothing more but to hear him say it again.

Hyunjin cursed, arm reaching out to get your hand in his.

“We need to talk. Can I take you to my studio, sweetheart?”

Too caught up in his beauty to form words, you nodded, stupidly.

He smiled at you. A real, genuine smile. All for you.

vii. 20:05pm

His studio was utterly and uniquely him.

One huge room, half of it dedicated to art, filled with half finished canvases, and art supplies, backdrops hanging from the ceiling, projects piling on a desk on the far end of the window wall with the stained glass.

The other half a normal kitchen and living room, the two separated by a table counter. The mess appeared almost purposeful. The apartment wasn’t dirty, it was just—

The mind of an artist. Chaos.

“Amused by my inability to clean?” He joked, studying you taking in his space.

You scrunched your face, biting your lip. “It’s not that. This…makes sense.”

He chuckled, leading you by the hand to his couch.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

He brought spoons, and the two of dug into the cake, the fresh, ripe strawberries melting in your mouth. You moaned, excited to be eating something sweet after a long day at work.

Sharing cake with Hyunjin, at his house of all places. This was something out of your wildest dreams, and yet, it all felt a little too normal.

After all, this is a guy you’ve been seeing almost every single day for the past two years of your life. You’ve served him countless coffees, watched him sketch for hours—he’d even walked you to the bus station one time, worried a creep that had been flirting with you a little too aggressively, would try something.

In the moment, you never really realized, but in retrospect, you and Hyunjin had been together a lot.

Never this close, though. And you’d be lying if you said it didn’t feel different, this time, more personal.

You were sure your feelings were painted on your face, and surprisingly, you didn’t particularly care. You wanted it to happen. You didn’t want to keep hiding behind your finger, anymore.

“I owe you an apology. I’ve been nothing but a bitch to you.”

Hyunjin shook his head. “Don’t say that about yourself, angel. I came on too hard, and freaked you out.”

You turned to face him completely. He looked so calm, so content. How had you never seen it before?

Why had you been so adamant on pushing him away?

“No. I was still wrong. Let me do this—”

“(Y/N), please—”

“Hyunjin!” You sighed, exasperated. “This is why we fight. Because you’re so hardheaded!”

He laughed, then, hands reaching out to grab your face. You froze, astute.

“We don’t fight, angel. We bicker. I love bickering with you.”

His mouth attacked yours, pushing you down on the couch. Your back hitting the pillows, you circled your arms around his neck, hands caressing the nape of it.

It was like a fire lit between you, engulfing you both in its flames. Your whole chest was burning with the need to feel him closer, to touch him.

“Angel,” he whispered against your lips. Your eyelashes fluttered, the desire to kiss him again too strong.

“Tell me. Before I continue, tell me,” he pushed the hair out of of your face, lovingly, eyes gazing deep into yours, “if you feel the same. I’ve been hooked on you, sweetheart. Ever since I met you.”

You were about to tell him the scariest three words you’ve ever said—but he had to know. It was overdue, it was necessary he knew.

You touched his cheek, leaving a kiss on the edge of his mouth. He followed your movements like his life depended on them—on you.

“I love you,” you whispered.

The way his eyes lit up, that rare, addictive warmth of his that you’ve only witnessed a handful of times—you would never get enough of his happiness. It was such a whole experience, so very precious.

“Took you fucking long enough, my sweet girl.” He picked you up, wrapping his arms around you in the most delicious way, bringing you on his lap.

You could feel every inch of him—your hunger grew ferocious.

His eyes scanned your face, silently asking for consent, his hands at the hem of your shirt. You kissed him, instead, guiding his hands underneath.

He wasted no time getting you both naked, unhooking your bra, his tongue trailing down from your mouth to your breasts, fingers toying with your nipples.

“Fuck, angel, you’ve no idea how many times I’ve thought about this...”

His other hand moved down, unzipping your jeans, getting lost in your thighs. When he cupped your cunt, you were soaked.

“Goddamn, (Y/N),” his mouth devoured yours, crazy with want, cock painfully hard.

Pausing to remove your pants, you straddled him once again, running your hands over his firm arms, mouth moving to his neck, sucking on it. He groaned, his fingers finding your wetness, rubbing slow circles on your clit.

“Fuck… Hyunjin…”

“Tell me what you need,” he pressed his forehead against yours, your scents becoming one.

You, you, you, everywhere, always—

You moved against his fingers, rubbing yourself on him. The idea of you, doing this with him. It was absurd.

Nothing had felt more right.

All of your senses were wide awake, so entirely consumed by him, and his hands, his breath, his clean scent, the sweat forming, the way his hair fell in his eyes—

His eyes. The way they stared you down, feral, growing darker by the minute. The sounds that escaped your mouth were sinful, and he could absolutely not fucking take it anymore, he’s waited long enough, has wished for this, for you, in any way he could have you, take you, make you his.

His moans were a guttural sound, coming from the back of his throat. You put your hands on his chest, feeling the vibration of them, moving upwards, fingers wrapping around his neck, his head falling back.

He was the angel. He looked unreal, his naked body clenching, his movements never faulting, carrying you through an intense orgasm.

There were no words to describe—all of the buried emotions you refused to accept, they were all bubbling up, spilling out of you, destroying you, and Hyunjin was picking up the pieces.

“I need to be inside you, angel. Please.” Never breaking eye contact, he flipped you, positioning you underneath him, while he stood, one knee between your legs, arm extended over you, holding the back of the couch.

He stayed like that for a moment, just drinking you in, sprawled out, in his house, ready for him. He thanked whatever God granted him such joy, for he had dreamed of this many times.

You, wanting him back. His coffee girl embracing him, trusting him.

The moment he entered you, you both clang to one another, the feeling of his stretching you alone, overwhelming. His mouth against your ear, his heavy breathing scorching. You dug your nails in his back, moving with him.

“Fuck, (Y/N)…” His thrusts were slow, savoring, learning the ways you responded to him.

“Please, Hyunjin, please…”

Hyunjin watched you come apart, your broken moans music to his ears, a melody he’d like to memorize by heart. The way your body synchronized with his, your open mouth, head thrown back, unraveling before him—

“My beautiful girl…never leaving you—never allowed to leave me.”

A symphony. Heaven.

You made love like that, time no longer a concept, exploring each other, until you both came undone, shuddering, breathless, tightly enveloping.

A kiss on your forehead, and a silent question.

Will you stay?

You did; you stayed. You and Hyunjin talked till the early hours of the next morning, hands clasped together, hearts whispering, connected.

I found you.

I’m with you, now.

viii. 05:04am

“I’m sorry about your mom,” you mumbled against his chest, half asleep.

He froze, momentarily, a deep sigh escaping his red lips, fingers drawing circles on your naked back.

“She had to go,” he replied quietly. “That’s what she told me. The cancer was eating her alive.”

Your head rose to meet his eyes, your chest heavy. He looked calm, if not a little tired. He gave you a soft smile, his eyes forming crescent moons, promising you he was okay.

“It was just me and her, but I guess that’s why she introduced me to painting. So I wouldn’t be alone.”

“She liked butterflies.”

You laid back down, burying your face in the crook of his neck, in fear of him noticing the tears in your eyes. He felt them, anyway.

You would never forgive yourself for telling him you hated him. You never did. Hate him.

You hated the way he made you feel.

You would never be able to get over Hwang Hyunjin.

That was fine with you, as long as you got to love him, first.

#ficscafe #hyunjin scenarios #skz scenarios #stray kids scenarios #hyunjin smut #skz smut #stray kids smut #stray kids #hyunjin #skz #kpop scenarios #hyunjin fanfic #skz fanfic #mine.

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emillyverse · 2 months

Text

Production stages of the Fan Comic of "The Wish Kingdom" !!!

(written by @annymation)

And as promised, here is the "schedule" I said I was putting together for the Comic fic production process.

In the end, this isn't really a "timeline", it's more like a list of what I'll do to build the comic. I want to make all the processes very clear and described to give you an idea of how it will be done and a small idea of how long it will take.

Remembering that I am a human being, not an AI to do things quickly, I have another life beyond networks and this project.

Besides the fact that none of us are being paid to do this comic (although I really wanted to, I'm not going to lie), all of this is being done on the basis of love, affection, positivity and adoration for the initial concepts dispensed by Disney, their classic films that really made that company grow and the main messages conveyed by Walt Disney while he was still alive: "If you can dream something, you can make it happen!" and "It's fun to do the impossible!"

So please be patient and kind to me and the entire team! I already love, adore and thank everyone willing to follow our project.

Well… Let's get started!

1- Rereading and Separating the text:

Starting today (02/26/2024) I will be re-reading Anny's fanfic, separating all of her text into scenes, highlighting the following points:

Atmosphere

Characters (designs made by @uva124)

Speeches and facial expressions - the message

Thus defining "who says what, how and in which place?"

Since I will be doing the setting art myself, as the story progresses, I would really appreciate a little help. I'm guessing if you're reading this you've probably already read The Kingdom of Wishes and consequently imagined the scenarios! If you find any images online that remind you of the locations of the scenes in your mind, you can send them to me as a reference! I'm always open to references for drawings!

2- Make the "Thumbnails"

I don't know what term foreigners use to define the thumbnails that make up the first drafts of comics, but here in Brazil, we call them "Doll", in reference to the fact that the sketches are a "test doll" for the comic strip .

Anyway, I digress! It is at this stage that I define the composition of the scenes through sketches. This is where I define what appears or not in the scene, what the scene will be focused on, how I will guide the reader's eye by the meaning of reading the scene, where the lines, the characters, their movements and others will be located… It's a planning phase on how to portray the scenes; the most complex I would say.

3- Review

Here I take a break for two days or three days at most, to relax and forget about the project for a bit. I come back with new energy and review everything that was done, ask for opinions and suggestions from the team, in short, I give a great evaluation and improvement in everything!

4 - Finalization and Publication

In this last step, I transform the sketches into final artwork using graphite pencils, colored pencils and pens that I have available.

When they are all finished, I will publish the comics here and on all my social networks!

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Finally....

I would like to say that yes, I will be posting spoilers for all these stages, watch them at your own risk!

Remembering that English is not my native language, so I really hope everything was understandable! But if you have any questions, you can send questions to me or any member of the team!

And if you want to know a little more about my arts, you can check out my Instagram!

Kisses full of light and stars!

Let's work!!

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cordeliawhohung · 4 months

Text

Golden Days

soap x pianist!fem!reader - written for @glitterypirateduck holiday challenge

A quiet coffee shop is the perfect place for Johnny to relax and get his mind off things. But he finds he enjoys it a bit more when someone starts playing the old, beat up piano.

masterlist

warnings: none! super fluffy! short and sweet. maybe slightly ooc soap because i don't write for him super often...

wc: 1.7k

a/n: inspired by the original lyrics to "have yourself a merry little christmas." i think that version deserves some more love.

Getting some R & R was always easier said than done, and Johnny found that he always had to keep his hands busy while he was on leave. Whether it was a quick skirmish of footy, hitting the gym, or even going for a walk, he was always in motion. But as the weather got cruddy with the bitter December wind and the pavement slick with what little snow dusted the lands, he found himself stuck to drawing. Simple sketches, he liked to call them. Silly doodles that meant little to nothing.

A majority of his journal was full of fragments of the world. A favela in Brazil where the buildings and homes seemed to stretch forever; a watermelon with a knife sticking out of it; diagrams of various ships and vehicles; the works. And he’d write some snarky comment or make fun of his captain in the privacy of ink and paper. His home away from home, whenever he was feeling sentimental, anyway.

Even as he enjoyed a fresh cup of coffee in his favorite mom-and-pop’s cafe, he drew. At first he started out with attempting to draw his cup of coffee, logo and all, until he realized that it would be lukewarm at best by the time he got the sketch how he liked it. Instead, he opted to drink his coffee while he scribbled down a Christmas tree. Might as well keep it to memory when the older gentleman who made his coffee had obviously spent so much effort into decorating it. Dazzling lights, gold tinsel and ribbons, and a glowing star at the very top. He wouldn’t be able to catch all the details, but it was enough.

A cold chill blew past the exposed skin on his forearm as the door opened and closed with a ringing bell. By habit, Johnny quickly glanced up towards the entrance where he saw you, bundled up in a winter outfit. He had never seen you before, which didn’t surprise him because he was hardly home enough to recognize most faces anymore. Your smile instantly warmed the shop back up as you grinned at the old man behind the counter.

“About time you showed up,” the old geezer teased as you approached him. “The usual?”

Sweet, Johnny thought. There was always something endearing about the love elders held for younger generations. Their knowing gazes, their kind smiles, although usually mischievous too. The owner got to work on making your cup of coffee, and as you waited you began to wander around the shop. Decorated head to toe in pine and all the gold decorations in the world, it was a bright warm corner in the sleepy city.

Naturally, you eventually made your way over to an upright piano pushed up against the wall next to the Christmas tree. Somehow, it was beautiful and ugly at the same time. Faded ivory keys, but a beautiful dark stained wood for the body, and it was also missing the upper panel, exposing the hammers and strings. It looked like it had been through hell and back, yet still stood proudly like the day it was made.

“Why don’t you play us something?” the owner suggested, his hands still busy with making your drink.

You paused just as your fingers brushed against the keys before throwing a cautious glance around the shop. No one else was in the shop besides Johnny, who you threw a polite smile towards before your eyes settled back on the older man.

“Maybe another time,” you deflected, eyes flickering over to Johnny. “Don’t want to scare away your customers.”

“Aye, don’t worry about me,” Johnny spoke up. He waved a graphite covered hand at you, pencil still nestled between his fingers. “I don’t mind a bit of music.”

The internal struggle was obvious in your eyes, and Johnny turned his attention back to his drawing in an attempt to keep the pressure off of you. Eventually he heard a slight creak of wood as the ancient stool settled underneath your weight. Johnny couldn’t help but glance back up at you as your fingers ghosted over the keys, petting them almost, before you dove headfirst into a dreamy chord.

“What the hell?” you exclaimed, the music quickly cutting off.

Boisterous laughter erupted from the owner as he leaned against the counter, your cup of coffee next to him. You looked at him with wild eyes and mouth slightly agape.

“You tuned this piece of junk?” you questioned.

The old man held his arms to the side and shrugged. “Merry Christmas.”

With some newfound vigor, your attention returned back to the piano in front of you before you played that chord once more, that time with more confidence. It was such a soft, beautiful melody; something that reminded Johnny of his childhood somehow, yet he couldn’t quite place it. Some sort of nostalgia hidden deep in his chest that started to ache and burn.

And then you started to sing.

“Have yourself a merry little Christmas. It may be your last.”

That… wasn’t how he remembered the song going. Blue eyes tore away from his journal as Johnny looked up at you. With your back turned to him, it was impossible to see your face, but he watched as your arms moved and fingers danced, how your body swayed with the beat and your feet tapped on the pedals.

“Next year we may all be living in the past. Have yourself a merry little Christmas. Pop that champagne cork. Next year we may all be living in New York.”

So much for making the Yule-tide gay. There was something a little more somber about this version of the song you performed, something that had both Johnny and the shop owner completely enamored. Between your singing and the lights of the Christmas tree casting a warm glow over you, it was something straight out of an odd, demented Hallmark movie.

“No good times like the olden days, happy golden days of yore. Faithful friends who were dear to us, will be near to us no more.”

There was a slight pause in the music. A prolonged chord that rang on the exposed shimmering strings of the piano. The moving hammers fell still in the exposed skeleton of the piano. After a moment, your head fell slightly as you continued on to finish the rest of the song.

“But at least we all will be together. If the Lord allows. From now on, we’ll have to muddle through somehow. So have yourself a merry little Christmas now.”

Notes sang and died down into silence as the song ended. You sat there for a short while before sliding off of the bench and awkwardly facing the rest of the mostly empty shop. The owner gave you a few well-natured claps, to which you bowed sarcastically to before approaching the counter once more to retrieve your drink. But Johnny was still dumbfounded.

“Beautiful. Haven’t heard that version before,” he spoke up, setting his pencil along the center of his journal where it rested between the pages. He leaned back in his seat, stunning blue eyes taking in the sight of you.

You turned to him with a sheepish smile, hands wrapped around the warm center of your cup. “It’s the original version Judy Garland wrote, actually. The one they deemed too depressing and asked her to change.”

He tilted his head to the side. “Really?”

“Yeah. I always liked this version better,” you explained.

Somehow during your short conversation, you had managed to meander closer to Johnny’s table, hand brushing against the chair across from him yet not braving to take the seat. He wasn’t ignorant to the way your eyes flickered down to his journal, or how your lips tugged into a small smile at the sight of it.

“Pretty,” you commented, nodding towards the journal.

Instinctively, Johnny glanced down at his work, and he could feel his throat grow a little tight. There was the luxurious Christmas tree he had sketched, with the dazzling ornaments, then there was the dimensions of the walls behind it, and then there was a half finished sketch of you, sitting at the piano facing away from him.

“Aye, it’s something I guess,” he chuckled, hands playing with the edge of the paper.

He blamed the glow of the lights for making you so beautiful. Like some sort of angel that should have been sitting on top of a tree rather than talking with someone like him. But you are there, and you’re real, and you ask him his name and give him yours and he swears that whole conversation feels like coming home. Like he never belonged anywhere else except in that coffee shop with you. Maybe he was just feeling sentimental.

“Well, I, uh, have to get going,” you said eventually, eyes awkwardly darting to the clock that rested above Johnny’s head on the wall. “But I’ll be back here around the same time tomorrow. I could… play you a happier song.”

It was impossible for him to hide his grin as he stared up at you. Of course he agreed, and he found himself getting more excited for it than he should have been. You give him a sheepish wave as you exit the shop, the bell ringing with your absence as you dissipate down the street. Things grew quiet again as it was just Johnny and the old shopkeeper, who was busy cleaning his machines. He looked back down at his journal and fiddled with his pencil as he thought about how to finish up his sketch. A part of him wished you came into the shop earlier. He would have put you at the center of the picture rather than that tree.

“She’s single,” the man suddenly spoke up.

When Johnny looked up, he realized the man was looking at him, and he wasn’t all too secretive about the mischievous glint he had in his eyes either. Really, he wasn’t quite sure what to say in response.

“Yeah? That’s some intel you got,” he said, slightly stiff and a bit sarcastic.

“She likes the Italian restaurant two blocks down the road,” the man continued. “I’m sure she would say yes if you asked her to go with you.”

At that, Johnny had to chuckle, and it sounded something like a warm grumble in his chest, as if he was actually attempting to entertain the idea. Still smiling, he glanced down at his journal again, finger tapping against the paper.

Have yourself a merry little Christmas. It may be your last.

Well, perhaps he could entertain that thought after all.

#soap x reader #john mactavish x reader #soap mactavish x reader #john soap mctavish x reader #codholiday2023 #cod x reader

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ruwriteshours · 8 months

Text

MONSTERS IN MY ROOM (PART I) ⛧ L.JN

↝ pairing: lee jeno x fem! reader

↝ genre: mortal instrumental! au, angst, gore, urban fantasy, fluff, eventual smut (MINORS DNI)

↝ warning: mention of death of characters

↝ summary: You didn't know your usual habits would become a huge significant part of your life. With little memories of your past, you are forced to remember to find your missing mother with the help of Jeno, an immortal.

"Yeah, I know I wouldn't forget." You groaned, your hand clutching onto the phone as you moved it to the other side of your ear. "You've been talking about it since last week."

You could hear grumbling noise of complaint coming from Jongho at the other line. "Well, how am I suppose to know you'll follow through. Your mom's crazy."

"Well, my mom doesn't control my life." You began sketching on your notepad, your fingers tracing on the symbol you drew as you let out your usual monologue. "I'm three more months to eighteen. Plus, she won't know a thing." You whispered out the last part.

"Yeah, whatever 'Miss Independent'." You giggled. "Just don't get both of us in trouble."

"Oh, don't be such a wuss. She won't suspect a thing." You assured, before hanging up— not even giving Jongho the chance to retaliate.

Flipping through the pages of you sketchbook, you had realised how much your sudden habbit had gotten worse. Your book was occupied with the same drawings of the symbols. All of it being repeated.

Sighing under your breath, you walked out of your room to wash up. "Hey, sweetie!" Your mother's chirpy voice greeted you by the kitchen, preoccupied with her cooking. Muttering back a soft 'hey' as you walked away only to be stopped again by her voice calling out to you.

Whining, you turned around. "What is it?"

Turning off the stove, she looked up at you with her beaming smile. "I see you've gotten busy."

Glancing down at your hand, you could see the graphite ink of your pencil had painted your entire hand— smudging your clean shirt.

"Yeah, it's for a project." You lied, attempting to rub off the dirt.

Your mother only prodded further. "Well, tell me more then." She said excitedly. You laughed awkwardly as you gestured towards the bathroom. "I would love to, mom but I'm meeting Jongho soon." You excused.

"Oh," You could hear the tease in her voice. "Your boyfriend."

"He's not my boyfriend!" You yelled out, a little too quickly. "He's a boy and he's my friend. He's my boy-space-friend." You explained, which only cause your mother to smile even more annoyingly. "Alright, sweetie. Have fun."

"He really isn't!" You began rushing to the bathroom to get ready. The last thing you heard was the gleeful laugh of your mother.

"Hey— woah." Startled by the sudden force being pulled on him as you hastily dragged Jongho out of your house. "What's the rush?"

"Don't want you to suffer by the wrath of my mom." You half-joked, still bothered by her comment. "Uh oh, what'd she say this time?" He laughed seeing your flustered expression.

"Nothing that concerns you." You grumbled, still holding onto his elbow to have him match your pace. He hummed, "Sure must be embarassing to have you this worked up."

"Shut up!" You hit his shoulder as it only fueled his humour, not finding your weak attack effective.

The walk towards the cafe was fairly short, your conversation with your best friend had always resulted in light bantering— not that you minded. Despite what everyone says about Jongho, (that he was someone who always plaster a cold exterior) you knew he had that warm light inside of him. His sense of humour and brightful personality was what made you want to get to know him more.

"Thanks a lot for doing this for me." Jongho spoke up. You smiled, "Don't go soft on me now, what are friends for?"

Oblivious, you didn't take notice on how Jongho's shoulder seem to slump— disappointed by your response. He was quick to cover up by bumping into your shoulder playfully, chuckling as you hit him back dramatically. Nearing to the destination, he walked up first to open the door. You didn't bother picking up on his gentleman act, having being used to his gesture.

"I'll get us a drink." He declared as the both of you found a seating. "Don't forg-" He was quick to interrupt you, though. "Forget to add in more whipped cream, got it."

With your order, he made his way to the queue. Your attention now being directed to the stage, listening to poetry slam— watching as the man stumble with his words, the beat of the drum not matching up to his speech. Letting out a sound of amusement, you turned your head to the tinted window— only to catch your attention at a certain symbol.

The same symbol you drew.

Without much though, you walked out of the cafe to take a closer look. Crossing the road carefully, you made your way to the open alley— observing excrutiatingly at the drawing. Your heart having picked up the sense of familiarity as your brain couldn't seem to remember. You didn't know you had taken so long outside until you heard Jongho's voice, followed by his hand holding onto your shoulder.

"Hey, why are you out here?" He asked, startling you out of your daze. Shrugging off, you could only utter, "I don't know."

He was about to question further when you turned to face him abruptly. "Let's go back." You grabbed his hand as you led him back to the cafe— thankfully, your seat was not being taken.

"Are you alright? You're being awfully quiet." He asked, noticing that you were in your head and was not paying attention to the event. You looked up at him with a small smile, "It's nothing, I'm just tired."

"Agony. Pain. Suffer." The voice of the performer acting out his scene.

"Tell me about it." He joked. "We'll finish up and go, you want another packet of sugar?" You nodded, "The brown one, please."

"Gotcha."

Watching him walk off, you let out a sigh of relief. You noticed a blonde-haired girl eyeing your best friend, a smile played on your lips as you observed the both of them exchanging greetings. You also couldn't help but notice that she kept staring at Jongho, obviously taking interest in him. Your heart soared, happy that your best friend had a chance to find someone. However, you were quick to assume when he walked away— rather quickly to your seat, acting as if nothing had happened.

"Why'd you leave so quick." He looked at you confused, "That girl you just talked to, she's totally into you."

He shrugged, not finding interest in the topic. "Not my type." You scoffed, "Oh please, you can go to her. I don't mind."

He scoffed back, "And leave you alone. No way." You groaned at his stubborness, "Act like that and you're gonna be single for life." You said jokingly, sprinkling the sugar onto your cup.

He didn't seem to take offense to your insult as he shrugged. "Maybe I'm saving myself for someone." You looked around dramatically, as if trying to search for who he was talking about. "Who?"

He didn't get to answer your question when the cheers and clapping sounds from the audience interrupted him, though you could see that he seemed relief to have avoided the topic altogether. Not soon after, the both of you joined in— acting as if you were listening to the awful speech.

The sky eventually went dark as the both of you took a detour, looking through every single local clubs that were available. As you past through every one of them, your eyes landed on the sign— with the same damn symbol on it. You turned towards Jongho as you pointed at the place. "Let's go here."

"Do you think it'll work?" Jongho asked incredulously.

"Of course it will."

Walking towards the entrance of the club, you were about to recite your script that you had prepared when the person behind the both of you cut through. His eyes were electric blue, hair spiked and his body covered in tattoos— all of which were random signs and symbols that had no meaning. "What an asshole." Jongho murmured.

Annoyed with the guy's rudeness, you looked up only to have an idea popped onto your head, "Actually, follow my lead." Ignoring his protest, you walked up to the bouncer with a confident facade as you pointed at the sign on top. "What does that symbol mean?"

Your question perked up the man that skipped ahead of you, turning around to look at you as he shared a look with the boucer. The man briefly whispered in his ear.

"What are you talking about?" Jongho harshly commented, his face panicking as he thought you had lost your mind. "Relax." You assured, focusing ahead as you watched the two men interact.

Not a moment after, the bouncer allowed the both of you inside. You let out a sigh of relief as you turned around to face Jongho with a smug smile.

"Did you went here without me before?" He asked in amusement.

The further you went inside the club, you squeezed your way through the crowds of drunkard people. Their bodies swaying to the side as the upbeat music echoed and flashing lights shining through the room. Jongho struggled to trail behind you, a look of discomfort takes over his face.

"Do you want a drink?" He asked— well shouted, as he was trying to overpower the loud music. You replied back with the same volume, "Yeah, but just water please!"

You looked around, your eyes catched a sight of the man who let you in the room. You were about to walk up to him, ready to ask him questions when his eyes looked behind you. Turning around, you caught sight on the most gorgeous woman in the room, her black hair swayed down her shoulders— the tight white dress complimented her curves, the tilted smirk of her lips as her sultry eyes bored onto the man.

Your eyes followed his movements, watching him walk towards the woman. You couldn't ignore the sudden feeling in the pit of your stomach, your feet following the both of them in the other area of the club— which is still in an open area, where everyone could see. You began to worry.

Something felt off.

Just as you predicted, the ring on the woman's fingers began slithering its way like a snake, transforming into a metal coil as it began wrapping itself on the man's neck. You gasped in shocked, completely in disbelief as you continued to watch the scene unfold.

The gurgling sound of the man struggling to gasp for air was spine-chilling. He clawed his hands around the metal coil but that only enrages the woman. The fury of the woman turned the colours of her eyes green as she balled her hands into fists— which made the material tightened around his throat. You looked around panicking as you noticed how the crowded room didn't seem to react at all at the murderous scene that was happening right in front of their faces, as if these people were invisible.

Shortly, a figure came in and began holding the man down— you watched helplessly as he was pleading for his life. Just then, another man came emerging through the crowd with his hood up, hiding his identity. You could only make out the black strands of his hair that was sticking out as he pulled out a weapon. His hand tracing along the lines of those threatening, sharp knife.

Without much thought, his knife sliced against the man's throat— completely decapitating his neck clean off. The blood began splattering everywhere, only now that you realised that the blood was black in colour as the fog escaped his body like acid. The sound of the man hissing in agony made you scream at the top of your lungs.

The three individuals hastily turned their heads towards the sound, seeing you in utter horror— from the way you covered your mouth as you teared up at the gruesome sight. The dead man was transformed into a horrifying parasite before it melted away into nothingness.

Your sudden screaming has also alerted the people in the room, who turned their heads towards you in confusion— not seeing the brutal death of the man. Your eyes dart towards the three people, their eyes staring back at yours. You could finally see the face of the hooded man. He was the last to fled the scene, taking a couple of steps closer towards you as his gaze was set at yours. His hooded eyes began to squint, as if trying to recognise you.

"What's going on? Are you okay?" Jongho was at your side in an instant, his hand grabbing onto your face to make you face him. You couldn't listen to his words, not when the fresh memory keeps repeating itself at the back of your head.

"I know what I saw." You rushed out of the club. "They killed that guy!" You repeated for what seemed to be the millionth time, still shaking from fear.

"Did you drink something, perhaps?" He asked, following your steps as he reached his hand out to call for a cab. "I heard that these people popped some stuff in the air to make sure we have a good time." He explained, trying to find some logical reasonings for your outbursts.

"Then how come you're not affected by it." You shot back, your makeup now smudged from the tears you let out previously— in a state complete mess. Thankfully a taxi came to a stop as the both of you hopped inside, his constant assurance only left you with more anxiety.

You knew what you saw.

After bidding your goodbye's, you were quick on your feet to make a beeline to your room— shutting your eyes in hopes to get some rests. Your vision clogged and your mind went black as you succummed to the darkness.

The morning after, groaning as you let out a stretch— rubbing your eyes but hissing at the sudden burning sensation that made your eyes water. Looking down, your hands were completely smudged with the ink of your pencil. In shock, you looked around your room as you gasped in horror. Papers were scattered across the floor, hung up and pasted on your cream textured walls. The same drawing accumulating in your room. You grabbed onto a couple and shoved it inside your bad, dashing out of your room as you made your way to the door.

However, you didn't make it far when the voice of your mother stopped you. "You went back late last night." Her usual nagging tone bugged you, not in the mood to get yelled at.

"I know, I'm sorry but I really have to go now." You pleaded, turning around to face your mother. Her eyes widened in shock seeing you in such a distress state.

The dark circles under your eyes are prominent as your hair flung in every direction. Despite the amount of sleep you had last night, it was as if you hadn't slept in days. "You can't leave."

You scowled in annoyance. "Yes, I can. I'm just going to hang out with Jongho, mom. It's fine." Your mother wasn't convinced, "So what? You're going to go off to him when you have problems, isn't that more of what you would do to a boyfriend." This time, you didn't detect any playfulness in her voice— it was as if she was hurt that you couldn't confide in her.

It was then that she realised that she needed to tell you the truth. Now. However, before she could utter a word— Jongho made his presence known as he stepped inside the house, which gave you the opportunity to fled, ignoring your mother's calls.

Showing the drawings to Jongho, you could only explain the events that had been happening as you watched his face contort to confusion— obviously not believing your spiel. Sitting at the cafe with eyes like a mad woman, it was difficult to convince Jongho. Ignoring his advice as you saw the same hooded man from the club, ignoring your train of thought. Your eyes widened in horror as you cowered away from his vision.

"What? What are you looking at?" Jongho asked exasperately as he began scouting around.

"Wait here." You said before running off, in hopes to finally get some answers— even if it killed you.

"Who the fuck are you?" You sneered nastily, shutting the back door that was leading you to an alley. The man chuckled at your rudeness.

"Lovely girl, aren't you?"

"This isn't funny! You killed someone, you're a murderer!" You accused, shouting at the man.

"I prefer to be called Jeno, actually." He stated as a matter-of-factly. "But I guess people who love to assume can call me that too."

"I know what I saw." You retorted.

"You think you know what you saw." He pointed at you, his eyes hardened.

Grabbing his hands to take a closer look at his tattoo, the same symbol being drawn on his hand— with shaking hands, you dug under your pockets to retrieve the drawing that you drew as you shoved it up to his face. "Why do I keep drawing this."

He hummed, taking the piece of paper as he observed it. "It's a mundane." He explained, as if there was no further explanation needed.

"What's a mundane?" You asked incredulously, prodding the man to continue. He looked down at you, his voice dropping an octave. "Someone that's from the human world."

"Well, if I'm not a human then what am I?"

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

©ruwriteshours

#jeno smut #lee jeno smut #jeno angst #jeno fluff #jeno imagines #kpop fanfic #nct fanfic #nct dream imagine #nct dream fanfic #lee jeno #lee jeno imagines #jeno fanfic

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dggmsk · 3 months

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hi! i love your art and what really sticks out to me is your grasp of form (like how you can depict a person with just a few lines) and how you arrange shapes and colors

is there a way you studied that, if at all? i'm looking to improve both things i listed as i think my art looks pretty flat lol again i love your art and you're a major source of inspo :)!!

aww omg first of all thank you so much! second, seeing this message made me really excited because this is something i'm very mindful of and really enjoy about other peoples art so i feel really honored to fit into that description! to answer your question directly: i used to paint abstract and i think i have learned a lot about shapes and color from that experience as well as studying other abstract artists.

while painting i found it liberating to use difficult and/or hard to maneuver brushes. there is a lack of control that comes with attempting to paint with a cloth or the rough end of a broken crayon that can make the creative process feel less restrictive. this is absolutely possible to do with figurative art as well. the key for me was to let the brush strokes dictate the shapes and not put too much focus on making a silhouette look 'realistic'. another thing i really love to do is to paint with 'negative space'. back when i was painting with oils i would often paint several layers of solid color and 'carve' shapes into the canvas with something like a palette knife. this is a basic layering technique that i use for digital art as well. u can see a sort of example of that with these drawings that i have posted:

it is essentially two layers, a solid color background with another solid color on top of it that i erased parts of to make a silhouette. i find this method not only to be a lot of fun, but the contrast between void and life makes you take the form a lot into consideration. another thing i like to do is to use a big, hard to maneuver brush and create the silhouette by painting the shaded, darker parts first. while that works really well with solid colors and flats, it can definitely be used for any sort of talent and style. using these two very different illustrations i have done as an example:

of course this is a matter of taste and style (like no need to use these strong contrasts and overwhelming shadows, that's just what i like to do lol) but these methods where sort of my gateway to getting a better understanding of shape and form. as for colors, i can only recommend to try and mess around with it but from experience i think some sort practice with figuring out how to balance different shades of black really helps.

my tip! if you are into character drawings, try illustrating a character as if they were only one solid color, build out their shape without sketching beforehand, let your hands go wild, then try to fill in the solids with details. or do the reverse, fill a paper with nothing but color (even graphite works great!) and try to make the silhouette by erasing. let the materials you use decide the outcome of shapes then consider what works and what doesn't, then do it again! and keep an open mind! what didn't use to make any sense eventually will (-:

#ask

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bookshelf-dust · 1 year

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HI LOVELY. I'm here to request again, as you can imagine. what about the jocks find Gareth drawing reader in class (maybe this is before the teacher gets there) and make fun of him? Reader is there and defends him? thank you, as always🙇‍♀️

I'm sure you'll do a fantastic job with this request, don't worry!

the robins

gareth emerson x gn!reader

word count: 840

warnings: swearing, jason’s goons but no jason, flirty stuff, fluff

a/n: my love!! thank you so much for your request!! this is such a sweet idea. i kind of made reader a bit protective, so i hope that’s okay. i really hope you enjoy this!! also sorry it took me a couple days!! <333

————

Gareth lifts his hand and there’s a smudge of graphite on the side of his palm. He wipes it off in the margins of his notebook paper.

Half the time he doesn’t even notice when he starts drawing.

Sometimes it’s a new weapon for his D&D character, something long and sharp that spans the entirety of the page. Maybe it retracts and folds up or something.

Other times it’s a new way for the Corroded Coffin logo to look, because he’s been wanting to change the one on his bass drum, or it’s a random cartoon character he saw while his sister was eating breakfast that morning.

Today, it’s you.

You’re sitting in the row beside him, your desk right next to his. Class hasn’t started yet. Mrs. O’Hare always comes in late, coffee in hand, fingers red because the cup is so hot.

You look so pretty today, Gareth thinks. You always look pretty, though.

But today, right now, you seem happy. Calm. It’s raining outside, and the classroom is gray because of it. But that’s your favorite weather. You told him that once.

He sketches you as you sit, reading your book before class begins. It’s just your profile really, the slope of your nose, the dip of your brow and the curve of your mouth.

He feels you touch his thigh. Just a little tap with the tips of your fingers.

“Hm?” Gareth’s head is turned in your direction though his eyes are still on the paper. You grin at the bounce of his curls.

“Look outside, Gare.” Your voice is hushed but very excited. He turns his blue eyes on you before they follow your gaze out the window. “Look at the robins,” you tell him.

The birds are hopping around under the trees in the courtyard.

Gareth’s face splits into the prettiest smile when he realized you’re excited about birds. That you’re showing him birds.

He’s totally in love with you, he thinks. He thinks that a lot.

“They look like they’re having fun, sugarplum.”He’s barely gotten the words out before he feels a hand on the back of his chair.

“What the fuck is this, huh, Emerson?”

Chance picks up Gareth’s notebook, eyes dancing over the sketch of you, the scribbles covering almost every inch of the college-lined paper.

“Oh are we an artist now or somethin’? And is that supposed to be them?” He points the notebook in your direction. “How romantic.”

Chance turns his head, looking at Patrick and Andy, hoping they’ll laugh at his antics.

You snatch the notebook out of his hand and hold it out to Gareth, who stares at you. You drop it on his desk.

Chance looks at you then, like you’ve just had the audacity to mess with him.

He goes to speak and you stop him.

“What the hell is your problem? Why can’t you just let him do something he enjoys and mind your own fucking business? Last time I checked, he’s never said shit about your hobbies, though we both know the only reason you’re on the football team is because your dad has an in with the coach.”

Chance goes bright red at that.

“There’s never been anything wrong with drawing, and there never will be. Fuck off, you hear me?”

Patrick turns and leaves, and Andy follows because he’s never had a single brain cell help him make an original decision.

Chance looks between you and Gareth and then spins to walk to the other side of the room where he takes a seat, scratching his chin, though he never looks back in your direction.

You look at Gareth. He’s still staring at you.

You open your mouth to talk but he goes first. “Thank you,” he chokes out, and then he’s smacking the sweetest and most passionate kiss on your forehead. “You didn’t have to do that.”

You twist one of his curls around your finger. “Yes, I did. He’s an asshole. I’m not going to let him treat you like that.”

Gareth blushes. He reaches for your hand and squeezes it.

“Also you know that I love seeing you draw, right? I don’t want you to think you’re not any good because of them. I love it when your fingers get all inky and when your eyebrows furrow because you’re concentrating. I just want you to know that I’m proud of you.”

Gareth raises your hand to his mouth and kisses the back of it, keeping it there to hide his smile. “I know. I’m proud of you too.”

You smile.

He fights the urge to tell you that he found your defending him very attractive. Maybe he’ll tell you another time.

Gareth looks out the window again. “Look. There’s like seven of them over there!”

You sit up, watching little flashes of orange as the robins bounce around.

That’s the moment Mrs. O’Hare enters the room, and even when the room goes quiet for her to teach, you catch Gareth watching the robins for the rest of class.

————

please let me know if you liked this! feedback is always appreciated!! comments and reblogs mean more than you know. <33

#gareth emerson #gareth emerson fic #gareth emerson x reader #gareth emerson x you #gareth emerson x gender neutral reader #gareth emerson x gn!reader #gareth emerson fanfiction #gareth emerson fanfic #gareth emerson fluff #gareth emerson x y/n #gareth stranger things fic #gareth stranger things #gareth the great #stranger things fic #gareth emerson oneshot #gareth emerson imagine #savannah’s fics

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shina913 · 2 years

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Coquet, Part 5 | JJK

Coquet, Part 5

\ kō-ˈket Definition: noun. a man who indulges in flirtation.

✫✫✫Coquet Masterlist✫✫✫

Pairing: Escort!JJK x Fem-reader

Rating: M (🔞)

Genre: Fake-dating!AU; Strangers to lovers; fluff; angst; smut

Warnings: SLOW BURN!; excessive cussing; A LOT of sexual tension; very explicit sexual conversations; some anxiety; heavy alcohol consumption; characters in various levels of inebriation; bachelor/bachelorette party activities including but not limited to--strip club setting, lap dances, pub crawl; some vulnerable confessions; lots of kissing

Word count: 7.3K+ words

Summary: On your brother's wedding, you dread traveling to see your family–whom you have successfully avoided for over a year after moving across the country for work. In an effort to save face, you hire an escort to get them off your back and perhaps even make your ex–who happens to be the best man–a little jealous.

A/N: Please don't hate me 😅 Just so you know, I had fully intended on doing a double-update but...it's been a struggle the last couple weeks for me so the fact that I managed to even write out over 7.3K words is beyond me! Plus, the universe just won't let me be great...*sigh* so here we are. Anyway, hope this holds you all off until the next one--which I promise will be much better! Thank you to all of you new readers!!! I'm super stoked about that as well!!!

Thank you, @internetjunkdrawer and @deepseavibez for helping me polish this more. I didn't do another read-through because I'm an impatient bitch...so I'll probably clean it up again after I post!

Either way, thank you all for the love you've shown Coquet!JK!!! I'll shut up now so you can get on with it. PS: Let's see if you can find the little OT7 easter eggs! 😬

Shifting on your feet, you ran a hand down your hip to smooth your dress. You settled on a classic little black dress that stopped about mid-thigh level. It was a halter with a plunge neckline and an even lower back. The dress showed a lot of leg, which you accentuated with strappy heels that laced around your ankles and went up below your knees. You had on a pair of extra-large, sparkly hoop earrings–which you were sure Mindi would get a kick out of.

The bigger the hoop, the bigger the hoe.

You chuckled and admired your handiwork in the mirror. Not bad. You’d dolled yourself up after getting back from the hotel’s gym, taking the time to do your hair and makeup. Your matte, terracotta lipstick was smudge proof, along with your mascara, a wash of champagne eyeshadow, and cat-eyeliner.

You finished your look with your caramel-hued bomber jacket for your early dinner with the girls–just to keep all the goods hidden until you were nice and tipsy tonight.

You opened the bathroom door to step out. Once your eyes locked with his, you couldn’t help but feel a bit unsteady on your feet.

He had called out to you while you were in the shower, letting you know that the guys just returned from playing a round of golf–which was Taehyung’s special request. He had just changed out of his country club-chic look and slipped into this…thing that you could only dub as his ‘devil suit’. A plain, black collared shirt–with the top two buttons undone, paired with graphite pants.

It was the perfect combination of casual, elegant deliciousness. The effect on you was pure, white-hot desire. And it wasn’t even dinner time yet!

He was in the middle of adjusting his collar when he paused to slowly rake his eyes over you from bottom to top.

“Wow, you look…” He stopped short of saying ‘good enough to eat,’ and cleared his throat instead. “You look amazing,” he said with a small smile. “Next time, warn me before you open the door.”

You smiled at his compliment. “I feel like I should be saying that to you instead.” You took a deep breath to relax, walking towards the full length mirror by the doorway to do another assessment of yourself. “Did you have fun at the links this morning?”

“Yeah, it was cool. I might take some lessons after this,” he says casually. “Tae had a blast, though.”

Taehyung wanted to play a few rounds of golf before jumping into a bar crawl and ending the evening at the strip club. You rolled your eyes subconsciously. If it were up to your brother, he’d skip the pub crawl entirely. Taehyung was the type who would prefer to hang around the beach after golfing. Unfortunately, he’d left it up to his best man to do all of the planning for his last night as ‘a free man,’ as Haru would label it.

You wondered if this was what Haru wanted for his own stag night. Hopping from one bar to another…or simply just spending several hours throwing bills at nearly-naked women dancing around onstage.

Your mouth fills with distaste and you brush the thought away before you start to go down that rabbit hole again. You glanced at your phone to check the time.

“Do you want to head down together? I know that you girls have an early dinner planned so maybe I could just see you off then hang around the lounge until it was time for us guys to head out.”

You turned around just in time to watch him slip his jacket on. He shrugged his shoulders to adjust it further and stretched his neck from side to side. It made your mouth water.

“Uh–yeah. That’s fine by me,” you smile nervously, trying to keep that coil in your stomach from twisting even further.

******

You stand side-by-side in the elevator and he reaches out to take your hand. You tried not to shiver when his skin brushed yours–but the corner of his mouth quirked up slightly, signaling that he had caught your reaction. As the cab descended, you tighten your grip around his fingers while you look straight ahead. You could have sworn that you saw his lips curve into a full-on grin from your peripheral vision.

The elevator doors dinging open does nothing to dampen the palpable energy in the air.

You and Jungkook step out of the elevators, hand-in-hand, and into the lobby together. Without letting go of his hand, you grinned as you spotted the girls already milling around downstairs. Mindi was doing a quick headcount while you waited for a couple more of Jennie’s girlfriends who were driving in as they were staying at another hotel.

Suddenly, you feel one of your shoes loosening. You look down to find that one of the laces has slipped down to your ankle.

“Ah, damn,” you say under your breath, finally releasing his hand, you sit on one of the couches at the lobby, setting your clutch down to re-adjust the strap. These shoes were cute and sexy but if you didn’t tie them up properly, they end up being a floppy pain in the ass.

As you bend downwards to reach for the loose strap, he approaches you and takes a knee by your feet. “Here, I’ll do it,” he says.

Without protest, you lean back and watch him rest your foot on his thigh, carefully undoing the knot and loops the strap around your leg more securely. Once he finishes, he gives your calf a gentle squeeze. “Nice and tight?”

“Y-yeah, thanks,” you say breathlessly.

He smiles and sets your foot down back down on the floor right in time for Mindi to call the girls to board the shuttle. As the ladies file out of the lobby and into the vehicle, you turn to thank him again and say goodbye.

“Have fun,” he says, giving you a light peck on the lips.

“Thanks. You, too. And be a good boy,” You threw in for good measure as you started to walk away from him.

“What are you talking about? I’m always good.” He smirked at you and gave you a wink.

******

“To Jennie!” Mindi yells out as all of the ladies raise their shot glasses in the air and down them one by one.

You sigh as the shot makes its way down your throat. The ladies start to dance and sing along to the song pumping through the speakers–they were antsy to leave and ready to party.

As soon as Mindi tells the driver to rev up the engine, Jungkook runs out of the lobby, banging on the shuttle door.

Jungkook slowly makes his way towards the back, where you were seated with Jennie and a couple other girls. Each woman eyed him with desire as he walked in between them. Some were practically pinching themselves to ensure that he was the real deal.

But he paid no attention to them. His gaze was hot–and it was only geared towards you.

“Hi,” he says when he finally reaches you. “I figured you might need this,” he says as he holds out your clutch.

You chuckle softly. “Oh, yeah. Silly me…thank you,” you say quietly as you take it from him.

He smiled. “Alright, well…I better get back with the guys—“

“Jungkook…why don’t you just ditch the boys and come with us instead?” One of Jennie's cousins remarked.

“Yeah, it’s going to be so much more fun than hanging out with those guys,” another friend pipes up.

One-by-one, they close in, ogling at him—all of them clearly very intrigued by your man.

He smiles at them politely, turning down each and every one of their requests.

“Would you look at that…a cock in the hen house,” Mindi chuckles.

You decided to step up and show them that he was not up for grabs. You walk towards him, the women parting for you like the sea, watching enviously as you reclaim him. You curled your fingers around his arm—as far as they could reach and walk with him to the door.

“Sorry, ladies. Maybe next time,” he shrugs at them.

The ladies pouted playfully as they waved goodbye to him.

As he hops off the bottom step of the shuttle he turns back around. You remained standing at the bottom step of the shuttle, slightly elevated so you were at eye-level with him.

“Thanks again,” you smiled before kissing him.

“Anytime,” he offered another wink before you walked back in.

He lingered for a bit before turning on his heel slowly.

Suddenly, something compels you to turn around and go after him.

As he walks back towards the lobby, you run out of the shuttle. “Jungkook, wait!” You called out.

He spins around and sees you advancing towards him.

“Kiss me and put your hand on my back,” you demanded, whispering under your breath but loud enough so only he could hear.

Or…at least that’s what you thought.

“Huh?” He cocks his head and lifts his eyebrows in confusion, trying to work out what you just told him to do, but he had no time to process. Before he knew it, your lips crashed into his.

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and deepened the kiss. You licked into his mouth, stroking your tongue along his eliciting a low growl from him.

His hand grazes the small of your back and moves lower until he reaches the swell of your ass. He gives it a definitive squeeze, making you jump slightly. He catches you and presses his body harder against yours, while you moan into his mouth.

Somewhere in the corner of your still-conscious brain, you hear the girls whooping and squealing from the doors and windows of the shuttle.

The noise begrudgingly brings you back down to earth and so you slowly pull away from him, noses still touching. You were absolutely dizzy from him but more surprised that he was obviously breathless as well. As your hands slid down to his chest, you could feel the pounding of his heartbeat.

“I asked you to put your hand on my back,” you mumbled into his mouth.

“Sorry, I thought I heard, ‘put your hand on my ass’,” he whispers, lips curving into a sexy smile. “You’ve got to speak louder next time,” he says before planting another gentle kiss on you. It made you smile into his lips.

“Okay, okay! Break it up, you two! There will be plenty of time for that later,” Mindi hollers. “I promise we’ll bring her back hot and ready for you tonight, Jungkook!” She cackles.

You giggled, dipping your head on his chest for briefly. When you lift it, you see him smiling at you. “Like I said, have fun tonight. I’ll see you when you get back,” he flashed a warm smile before his expression turned dark.

“And you can be as bad as you want,” he says in a husky voice, grazing your chin with his thumb.

Your breath hitched at the comment, making your brain foggy. You nearly trip over your feet on your way back up to the shuttle.

******

“Come on–take it to the face, Tyeongie!” Haru growls as he tries to push another shot for Taehyung to drink, which he pushes back.

“Nahh, I’m done, bro,” he yells over the music. His eyes roll to the back of his head while he shifts in his seat at the VIP section.

Haru shrugs his shoulders and throws the shot back, hissing as the liquid makes its way down his throat. He leans back, afterwards, mimicking his best friend’s position as they watch one of the strippers undulate her hips against the pole.

After the song ends, Haru leans over to tuck a few bills between her hip and the string that held her G-string together.

“Thank you, baby,” she gave him a wink and made her way downstairs to mingle with the rest of the party.

After she’s gone, he turns back to his friend. “What’s up with you, man? I’ve never seen anybody so depressed to be surrounded by half-naked women!”

Taehyung laughed at that. “I already told you, Haru,” he slurred, “I would have been completely happy golfing all day. You were the one who insisted on the strippers.”

“Aww, come on, dude! It’s a fucking bachelor party! It’s your last night of freedom before…you know, you’re stuck with one pussy forever!”

Taehyung shook his head and laughed again. “I have no problem with that. I happen to like the idea of fucking one pussy for the rest of my life.”

Haru’s face went from a look of mischief and teasing to one of surprise with an underlying hint of gloom. He then shook his head, in an attempt to switch subjects. “You’re talking crazy, dude. I think that you are, in fact, drunk,” he laughs. “I don’t remember the last time you were this hammered!”

“I do,” Taehyung stares at him languidly. “I actually remember perfectly. It was about a year ago–you dragged me out to some random bar. It was, what, about a month after YN moved away. You just wanted to get fucked up.”

Taehyung sat up and sipped on a bottle of water. “You were going on and on about true love…and then you told me that I could have any woman that I wanted…and to never settle.”

Haru stayed quiet, that night in question was slowly coming back to him.

“But then you kept pushing me to get in bed with all of these girls and I remember saying–” Taehyung’s eyes transfixed at his friend. “I don’t want any other girl. There’s only one girl I want. And that’s when I decided to finally shoot my shot with Jennie,” he finishes with a boxy smile.

Haru hissed through his teeth. “Yeah…I remember now,” he says lowly.

Taehyung nods slowly. “And I’ve had zero regrets ever since,” he says as he swipes his hands to cut the air. “I love her sooooo much, Haru,” he says as his head tips backward.

Haru smiles tightly as he downs the last few drops of his beer.

******

Jungkook and Jimin are hanging out by the bar, chatting up a couple of ladies. One of them was practically begging to give Jungkook a private dance for free.

“No, no–I have a girlfriend,” he says respectfully. “You should talk to my friend, Jimin, here. You guys can probably have a dance-off.” he jokes as the girls laugh.

“What are you laughing at? I might give better lap dances. And I only take 100-dollar bills as tips,” Jimin quips at her.

Before Jungkook can respond, the DJ makes an announcement over the microphone to acknowledge the group’s presence at the club. He turns down the music and invites everyone to give the groom a round of applause.

Taehyung smiles and takes it as an opportunity to make a drunken yet very heartfelt speech. He gets up from his seat and moves carefully towards the railing while the rest of the guys look on.

“What’s up, everyone!” Taehyung bellows, followed by a hiccup. “Sorry–I’m pretty fucking gone right now,” he laughed. Everyone cheers and laughs in response.

“Alright, alright, alright–listen,” he tried to begin as coherently as possible. “I just wanted to say–thank you all for partying with me. And–” he turns around, beckoning Haru to stand up next to him, which he does. Taehyung puts his arm around him and squeezes his shoulder.

“I also wanted to give a special shoutout to my best friend and my brother, Haru, here. And not to get fucking sentimental about it–I just wanted to say, thank you. Thank you so much for making me realize that Jennie was the one for me. I owe you my happiness, man. It was all your doing,” he says with a smile and hugging him tightly. “I love you, man. Not as much as I love Jennie but…I want you to know that I fucking love you!”

Jungkook looks on and watches Haru shift uncomfortably.

“Anyway, I’m having the time of my fucking life. You guys should, too!” he says as he raises his water bottle.

Everyone in the room cheers loudly as the DJ turns up the music again.

******

“Hmm…how ‘bout that one?” Jennie asked, watching the guy in question walk away. “Nice, broad shoulders–sexy smile..”

You rolled your eyes and polished off your gin and tonic. “Still doesn’t top Mr. Dimples from the last club,” you say wryly. “He had a sexy smile. Pretty eyes, too,” you added.

Jennie was really getting into ‘Rate That Dick.’ And it was fun until the novelty wore off for you a couple hours ago, around your second stop.

Truthfully, there was only one dick that you wanted to rate–and up until this point, you’ve been doing your level best to talk yourself out of it. You hated to admit it but it was becoming a losing battle.

You were at the fourth stop on your club-hopping list and this place was popping. The line to get in wrapped around the block and played a mix of hip-hop and R&B beats, the music pounding through the dark space, giving it a seductive feel.

Jennie’s cousin, Liah, piped up, “Why don’t you flirt with him, YN?”

“No, no,” you declined. “I should not be trying to pick up guys in this state.” You were looking flushed and bright-eyed. Your skin was clamming up–alcohol sweats–if that ever was a real thing.

“What do you want out of commitment, Jennie?” Hana, one of Jennie’s other friends, asked while she nursed a drink.

“Uh…monogamy?” Jennie responds as if the answer should have been obvious to her friend.

Liah groaned at the ceiling. “Monogamy is overrated. I’m gonna go and check out Mr. Worldwide Shoulders over there,” she says, sliding off her bar stool and walking away to hit on her target.

“Ooh! I see somebody over there who looks like he wants to buy me a drink,” Hana says as she walks over to a man with a smile as bright as the sunshine. He had been exchanging flirty looks with her in the last ten minutes or so. She beckons him to join her on the dance floor.

“It’s not overrated,” Jennie pouted quietly when it was just you two at the table. “I happen to like monogamy," she mumbled as she toyed with her 'Bride-to-Be' sash.

You grinned at her. For as long as you’ve known her, Jennie has always been the ‘good girl’. She was in the honor roll at school, dressed modestly, didn’t drink much, went out occasionally but went home at a decent hour.

Mindi called it being ‘uptight’ but some women were just innately cautious and preferred quiet nights in rather than partying ‘til dawn. It was a shock as to how she and Jennie became the best of friends. But people always say, opposites attract. Jennie and Mindi were soulmates, like it or not.

“Jungkook seems to be the monogamous type,” Jennie says, after adjusting her kitschy tiara that had a bedazzled penis on it. She props her elbow up on the table, resting her chin on her hand while she eyed you. “It must be overwhelming for him to hang out with your whole family for days on end?”

“He’s taking everything in stride,” you waved off. “If anything, I felt weird seeing everyone again,” you sighed deeply. “Haru’s mom came up and gave me a hug this morning after the guys went off to the country club.”

“Wow...that…must have been something,” Jennie remarks.

“It was, if I’m being honest. And I’ve known them for years–holidays, family dinners,” you trail off as you pick at some random fried snack that was in front of you. You flag down a waitress and order another vodka tonic.

“Water under the bridge,” she swats the air with her hand haphazardly. “You’re with Jungkook now and things are different!”

You nodded in an exaggerated manner. “Oh! He’s definitely much different than Haru, I can tell you that much. In the short amount of time Jungkook and I have been together, I feel like–he’s opened my eyes to…so many things.” You stopped short of specifying which things…like, hiring him to pretend to be your boyfriend who is head-over-heels for you.

Jennie groans. “Babe–who gives a fuck about Haru? He’s so last year,” she slurs.

You shrugged. “I know, I know. But you know what, we were together for a long fucking time. To be honest, I still feel like he owes me a clear explanation as to why he dropped me just like that,” you say as you sip on your just-delivered vodka tonic refill before turning to her. “You know what I mean?”

Jennie suddenly goes ramrod straight and glances over at you. She sees you staring back at her. “You’re asking me?” She says incredulously.

“Well…you and Tae have known Haru the longest. Has he, I don’t know…has he said anything? Shown any inkling–”

“I–I don’t know why you’re asking me these things,” she says in a rush. “Are you insinuating that I know something?” She suddenly feels agitated.

“Woah, woah–calm down, girl,” you smile lazily. “We’re just having a conversation here. I mean–I’m clearly very shit-faced right now…hence the heightened introspection,” you say hoarsely. You noted that you needed to drink water from this point forward.

She relaxes her stance and clears her throat. “In my opinion, I think that you should just leave all of these things in the past.”

She then scoffs and lifts a shoulder. “No one really knows what Haru’s mindset was at the time. The point is, you’re happy and found someone who’s hotter and clearly obsessed with you. Just focus on that! All this–” she waves her hand around aimlessly, “This is all just background noise.” She keeps her gaze at you while you ponder on her words.

You nodded and realized that she had a point. “You know what? You’re right. He is hot!”

“Damn fucking right!” Jennie says. “And you need to show that hot man how much you appreciate how fucking hot he is!”

That lit a fire underneath you. You slam your palm on the table. “Fuck, yes! You are so fucking right!”

This was definitely the alcohol talking. You’ve gone through several glasses of cocktails and numerous shots— without legitimate solid food— in the last few hours. You were incredibly drunk…and unbelievably horny. It was the perfect storm.

“Hold up, hold up! I was just walking across the room and heard the word ‘fuck,’ thrown around like willy-nilly and I immediately want in!” Mindi suddenly joins your little party of two and puts her arms around both you and Jennie.

After you entered this club, she immediately made eye contact with one of the bartenders. She walked up to him, said some weird pickup line about felines and he immediately threw his head back in laughter, gummy smile and all. After a couple hours, it looked like his shift was coming to an end. They exchanged numbers right before Mindi saunters over to your table.

She eyes Jennie first. “Either of you want to get more fucked up…or—” She turns her head towards you, “Or maybe you just want to get fucked?” She giggled as the three of you exchanged looks.

“Well, apparently, it sounds like Jungkook is getting fucked good tonight,” Jennie says, eyes full of mischief.

You laughed and shook your head. “I didn’t even say that,” you corrected her.

“Sure you did! In so many words,” Jennie laughs.

Mindi’s jaw drops and her head whips around at you. “Unnie…I’m so depressed. Why did you have to find him first,” she whined playfully. “I feel like you need to send God a bottle of wine or something. Maybe one from Uncle Jae’s stash?”

You all giggled.

“Hey, you think Haru sent back that vintage Barolo from your engagement party?” Mindi muses. “I’ve always wondered about that.”

You considered that a rhetorical question so you bit the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from answering. In actuality, you finished that bottle on your own after he broke your engagement. It didn’t matter that it was a $400 vintage–the combined acidity and spice felt like a warm hug in the midst of your bitter breakup.

Jennie rolls her eyes and groans loudly. “Oh, my god! I am not fucked up enough for this conversation,” she yells out. “Let’s do more shots, Mindi!”

“Fuck yes! Bartender!!! Tequila!” They both run up to the bar hand-in-hand while Mindi screams out their order.

As the music swells, you reveled in the utter sensuality of the venue and the unabashed drive for casual sex that everyone seemed to exude tonight. You were hot and sweaty and just about ready to call it a night.

Just then, your phone buzzes from your purse. You retrieve it and see a text from Jungkook. His message makes you smile. As you tuck your phone back in, you decide within yourself that you were done trying to talk yourself out of this.

You yelled at your cousin. “Mindi!!!” Her head whips around back at you at the sound of her name.

“I need to swing by the ATM on the way back to the hotel!” You screeched.

Mindi gives you a befuddled look but she shrugs her shoulders and holds her thumbs up in agreement.

******

“You think we’ll be the last ones standing?” Jimin leaned back on his chair by the bar, which had a full view of the club. He looked around at Taehyung’s friends and cousins who were in various stages of inebriation.

Jimin was a tank. Jungkook watched him all night as he downed shot after shot…after all that, he was still upright and seeing straight. If he was put through a field sobriety test right this second, he would pass with flying colors.

“That’s what it’s looking like,” Jungkook chuckled as he scanned the room while he played around with his beer bottle.

Just then, another stripper walks by and tries to get his attention, offering him a private dance. He smiled and turned her down, just as he had done to at least 10 other women tonight.

“You know you can partake, if you want,” Jimin says casually. “You don’t have to be cautious around me just because YN is my cousin. You can have a little fun.”

Jungkook’s mouth twisted playfully. “I know that. She even gave me permission, actually.”

Jimin cocked an eyebrow at him. “She did,” Jungkook affirms. “And, I told her that she could have her fun, too if she wanted.”

“Wow. You two seem pretty secure with each other,” Jimin remarks as he takes another sip of his drink.

“We trust each other…at least, that’s what I’d like to think. Besides, even if she did tell me it was okay, I wouldn’t do it anyway.”

Jimin chuckled at that. “A little reverse-psychology for you?”

Jungkook shook his head. “No. I just prefer to live out my fantasy with her. Even better...she’s real.” His comments seemed to roll off the tongue but he meant every word. No matter how much he tried, he couldn’t get YN off his mind.

The way she looked at him, sighed at his touch…the way she kissed him back. Her lips held much more promise than others. He didn’t mean to put her up against past clients.

Once the contract was over, he filed those away and never looked back at them. He didn’t want to compare…because to him, she was incomparable. Not even close.

“You know, I feel like I should be grossed out by your comments mainly because she’s my cousin but…I think it’s cool that you hold her in high regard like that.”

Jungkook nodded in agreement. “What can I say? She’s the one that I want,” he says plainly. Jimin smiled at that.

Just then, Jungkook looks up towards one corner of the club and sees Haru dip into one of the private rooms in the back with two dancers.

He furrows his brows then shakes his head subtly. He scans the room again and notices that Taehyung was nowhere in sight. “Hey, have you seen Tae?”

“Uhm–” Jimin does a quick scan of the room as well and is not able to get a visual of his friend “I thought he was with one of his cousins…or Haru…”

“Hey baby, you look like you could use a dance,” another stripper offers him.

“Actually, I’d like to buy my buddy, Jimin, a dance. Here–” Jungkook hands her a bill. “Go have fun, I’ll see if I can find Taehyungie.”

“Uh, uhm–okay then,” Jimin agrees reluctantly at first but doesn’t protest when the dancer ushers him to one of the open tables in the back.

Jungkook hops off his stool and strolls around the club in search of Taehyung. He wasn’t in the VIP perch nor any of the tables by the back walls. He didn’t want to try and peek through the back rooms so he thought he’d try the men’s room.

As he rounds the corner, he sees Taehyung staggering out of the door and rushes over to catch him.

“Heeeeyyy,” Taehyung slurs at him, eyes completely glossed over with alcohol.

“Hey–been worried about you. Are you alright?” Jungkook asks as he holds him steady against the wall.

“I’m–ugghhh” he groaned. “I don’t feel so good, dude,” he says, clutching his stomach.

“I think you might be done for the night.”

“I…think so…too,” Taehyung drawls, his eyes glossing over.

“Alright, I’ll take you back to the hotel. I’m sure we can take one of the shuttles and the driver can circle around to pick up the other guys.”

Jungkook heaves and puts Taehyung’s arms around his neck, supporting the rest of his weight with his other arm as they slowly made their way out of the club.

“W-where’s Haru?” Taehyung wonders.

“Uh, I think his fun is just starting…but he can handle himself. He’s a big boy,” Jungkook says flippantly.

As they continued to walk towards the exit, Jungkook waves at Jimin from the far corner of the club–who was now being catered to by a new dancer. Jimin does a quick salute in acknowledgement. When they cross the threshold, Taehyung breathes in the fresh air and promptly pukes his guts out at the closest bush by the walkway.

******

“What the fuck was Haru thinking…” Taehyung slurred as he and Jungkook staggered out of the elevator and walked crookedly towards his room. “Did he think that I was going to…sleep with any of those women? Days before my wedding day?” He glances down at the vomit stains on his shirt and scrunches his nose at the smell.

“You did just fine, Taehyungie.”

“I…I…don’t know, Jungkook. Is that weird?” He hiccupped. “Like—I get it’s tradition or whatever but…I just want…one woman. And that’s Jennie. I just want her. I don’t want any…strippers or…hookers.”

“Well, it’s been my experience that a man in love has no desire to be with a prostitute.” When they arrive at Taehyung’s door, Jungkook steadies him against the wall and attempts to dig through Taehyung’s pockets for his key card.

He directed Jungkook to his back pocket then smiled lazily. Jungkook taps the card against the door’s scanner and holds it open. “Bruuhhhh…” Taehyung dragged out. “How do you know so much…about so much?”

Jungkook straightens his back, pauses, then looks him in the eye. “I used to be a hooker,” he says matter-of-factly.

Taehyung’s brows knit furiously. He is silent for a few seconds, taking in Jungkook's remark. Then, he suddenly bursts into laughter and wags his finger at him.

“That’s a good one! You’re a funny guy. My sister needs more of that in her life. Someone to make her laugh.”

Jungkook nods, gives him a small smile. “Yep, that’s me. Now c’mon. Off to bed,” he says, and helps Taehyung get settled in his room.

******

When you whole party arrives back at the hotel, everyone splits off into their own rooms. A couple of people head out by the beach to get some fresh air.

You, on the other hand, saunter into the hotel lounge.

It’s practically empty save for a couple of Jennie’s cousins and the bartender. You walk up and order a glass of water. After hours of drinking on and off, you were rightfully thirsty. You lean against the bar for balance as you take a couple of cautionary sips.

You stared off into the distance and took a few more sips of your water–but no matter how much you drank, it still felt inadequate. It wouldn’t quench your thirst.

You checked your phone. It was after 1:30AM. The last text that you received was 20 minutes ago–from Jungkook. He let you know that he dropped a very intoxicated Taehyung off into his room and was calling it a night himself. He also threw in a cautionary, ‘Come back safely,’ at the end of his message.

Your head lolled back slightly–you were feeling good…about as good as you did after coming back from the bathhouse. The only difference was that your inhibitions were considerably lower tonight.

You smirked after rereading that text for the fifth time tonight. Or was it the sixth?

You know that you shouldn’t really make a big deal out of it. This was part of the whole ruse. You wanted him to act like this. He was supposed to show your family how committed he was to you…how much he wanted you.

Every action, every word, was purposeful to make it all believable. It was all for show and so far, everyone in your family seemed to fall for it.

But the conversations, the kisses…his touches…the ones happening behind closed doors or without anybody else watching–they felt real to you. You wanted so badly to test that theory–preferably without clothes on.

And if he turned you down, at least you had a $1000 backup plan in your purse.

You slid off the barstool, dug out a dollar bill to tip your server and began the longest journey back to your room.

******

Jungkook

Jungkook starts to finally drift off after taking a long, scalding shower. He had a couple of drinks in total. After that, he spends the rest of the night spitting his shots into an empty beer bottle— making it look like he was using the beer as a chaser.

By the end of the night, he was as sober as a judge. It took him a while to fall asleep at first. He was uncharacteristically worried about YN. They texted back and forth during the day but she didn’t respond after his last message about depositing Taehyung back to his room.

His notification said that she had read it. He eases up after talking himself into thinking that at least she wasn’t driving and that they had dedicated shuttles to take them back to the hotel.

It didn’t take long before he was startled awake by a loud thud, followed by some snorting and giggling. He sits up and turns the bedside lamp on to see YN clumsily pulling herself up from the floor then tripping over her feet again.

“Are you okay?” He got out of the bed and walked towards her. He picks her up by her elbows to help steady her.

She was barefoot, carrying her heels in one hand and her purse in the other. Her hair was mussed up, her makeup slightly ran…and she had a sheen of sweat coating her skin.

“Hi,” she smiled languidly as brings her up close to his face, supporting her weight.

“Hey,” he says softly. “Glad you’re back in one piece.”

“Are you really?” she asked.

His brows furrowed but his answer came naturally. “Yes, I am.”

“You smell nice,” she randomly remarks.

Jungkook chuckles softly. “Thanks, I took a shower. Are you drunk?”

She laughed. “Just a little,” she says with a harsh whisper. Her face softened as she stared up at him. “You look pretty.”

He regarded her intently. “You do, too,” he replied.

She giggled in response and waved her pointer finger at him. “I know for a fact that that is not true!”

“You should see what I see then,” he says, keeping his gaze on her.

She blinked up slowly at him and cocked her head. “Are you real?”

He laughed at the question. “What do you mean?”

Her mouth twisted ruefully. “Exactly what I said,” she says. “Are you real?”

He paused to think about it. He wasn’t sure what context she was asking the question in. He lets out a shallow breath and answers, “I am.”

Her expression changes into something that resembles curiosity and wonder. He couldn’t help but feel unnerved by her stare. It was as if she was trying her best to get a read on him–if he was telling the truth or if he was lying.

“Do you need me to help you get into bed?” He was still holding her up but noticed that she had pulled herself up straight, her face a couple inches away from his.

“Something like that,” she says quietly. “Can you…can you kiss me?” She bit her lip as she awaited his answer.

Now it was his turn to regard her in curiosity. He knows that he shouldn’t. He’s had clients who have tried to escalate things after consuming alcohol. Over the years, he’s figured out ways to turn them down politely. He was never one to take advantage of someone unable to fully consent much less somebody who was substantially impaired.

She could be confused and emotional, he thought. The stag group turned out to be quite the event before the night ended so Lord knows what happened during the ladies’ pub crawl.

He swallowed hard, “I–”

“Please?” She looked so vulnerable like this. Unlike that day after returning from that awful brunch, she was soft and inviting. Truth be told, he wasn’t sure how he managed to hold himself back earlier this afternoon when she kissed him. Him squeezing her ass was an uncharacteristic slip from him.

She was undoubtedly different from his other clients. She was so real to him, unafraid to show her insecurities and her fears. He was skeptical about taking her call at first. But by sheer coincidence–or perhaps it was serendipitous–that he was feeling run-down from his real life when she called. She was only meant to be ‘a change of pace.’

She touched his cheek, pushing errant strands of hair away from his eyes. He felt a flutter within his chest. He was used to being irresistible to women–and this really should have been an easy decision for him. This time, he was the one having trouble resisting. His instincts were failing him. He nuzzled into her touch with a soft, wistful moan.

It was true that she paid for a lie but everything else she’s shown him was honest. And after years of building his business on deception, could there be a chance for him to experience something genuine?

He lightly brushed the tip of his nose against hers.

“Jungkook…” He gasped at the sound of his name leaving her lips. It was like a melody that shot straight through his chest and tugged at his heartstrings.

Before he knew it, he sealed his mouth against hers. His chest pressed against her torso. She rubbed up against him, the friction sending his body temperature through the roof.

He took her mouth in further in a rough, lust-fueled kiss. Lifting her off the floor, he moved towards the bed. Somewhere between the doorway and the bed, her purse and shoes drop to the floor.

Their lips don’t part the entire way, and it’s a challenge when he tries to lower her to the mattress. Dropping her down, he pulled his shirt up over his head and threw it aside. YN’s teeth sink into her bottom lip, her gaze hungry.

His hands were everywhere, his body straining upward as she was spread underneath him. She cupped his face, licking fast into his mouth, as if trying to satisfy a craving…a craving for him. She moaned against his lips. He hummed against hers in return.

She pulls away suddenly and pushes up against his chest.

“Wait! I…w-what about…money…uh, you said, this is extra,” she stuttered.

He sighed. That hadn’t even crossed his mind but he was growing impatient and so he said the first thing that he could think of. “I’ll bill you later. Sound good?” He says with a slight hint of teasing. After a small nod from her, he lowered his head again to nip at her bottom lip. And their mouths were connected once more.

“I like your dress.” He reaches to tug at the silky black fabric, smiling when he hears her breath hitch. “But it looks a little restrictive, don’t you think?”

“Take it off then,” she demands, eyes filled with wanton need. Her hunger for him only intensifies his hunger for her.

“What do you say?”

“Please, Jungkook,” Her plea is more than a plea. It’s a fucking turn-on for him, like no other. Her dress is gone in a matter of nanoseconds. She lays there in her lingerie as his hot gaze takes her in.

He kissed and licked at her mouth again, savoring her before moving down to her throat— planting more kisses there. Her head lolls back, sighing as he sucked on the skin there.

He moves lower, peppering more kisses down to her sternum and abdomen, stopping short right above her panties.

He pulls away quickly, turning around to retrieve the condoms that he kept in his bag.

When he returns, he sees that she was still exactly positioned how he left her. Splayed on the bed for him, head turned to the side, her eyes closed.

He hovers over her and plants soft kisses on her jawline. “YN, are you with me?”

She didn’t respond or stir.

He straightened up more, trying not to panic. He runs his fingers through her hair. “YN? YN?” He lightly tapped her on her arm.

Just then, he hears her snoring softly. She had passed out on him.

He really should be mad at her for leaving him hanging but he lets out a soft chuckle instead. He watches her chest rise and fall for a bit, completely endeared.

With a sigh, he gets up off her, picking her up gingerly to reposition her on the bed. He pulls the sheets off from her side and sets her there, carefully ensuring that her head was on the pillow.

Realizing that she was still dressed in her underwear, he goes to grab one of his lounge shirts from his suitcase. He didn't want to go through her things and thought it would be easier to slip one of his oversized shirts on her instead.

She must have had a lot to drink as she didn't even give any hint of resistance.

He sets her back down on the bed and moves to the bathroom. He soaks a washcloth in warm water. He squeezes it out and returns to her bedside, gently wiping her makeup off.

Once he thinks that he’s taken all traces of it off her face, he puts the washcloth on the nightstand and pulls the covers over her to tuck her in.

After tossing the washcloth back into the bathroom sink, he goes to pick up his shirt off the floor along with a couple of things that she dropped at the doorway in the midst of their passionate kissing.

He puts her shoes off to the side and hangs her jacket on one of the lounge chairs in the room. As he walked around the room more, he found her purse under one of the chairs. He thinks that one of them must have kicked it there unknowingly.

He vaguely registered the loud thud that it made while he was too distracted by getting her into bed. It sounded like a brick when it hit the floor.

As he picked it up, he knew why. The top flap had popped open and money was spilling out of it. There must have been $800 in here, at the very least. He also noted that most of the bills were in denominations of 20s…meaning, she purposely stopped to make several withdrawals on her way back.

Shifting his gaze away from the cash, he looks back at her. As she slept peacefully, his heart sank.

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