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weirdfanaus · 2 years

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Little Black Dress

Summary: during the YSL beauty event, a handsome stranger catches your eye.

Playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7w92dT0GKS36eXKkBVcQZp?si=52badc9d6034405c

Words: 2.8k

Pairing: Hyunjin x female!reader

Rating: Mature, contains smut

Warnings: mentions of alcohol.

masterlist | ao3

a/n: this is literally me trying to calm my thoughts about Hyunjin and Felix going to the YSL beauty event, the way they acted through their whole stay in Paris and also once again writing a story set in Paris, because this is not the first time...

also please excuse any possible mistakes, english is not my first language :)

also special thanks to Luca, for helping with my writing playlist, this fic wouldn’t be here without you

You looked at the women before you and how they clinked their glasses together and mumbled in French about the men around them.

You were so bored at this table, even though you had the translator by your side who kept you company.

You had been a fashion influencer since the pandemic hit with the help of Instagram and Tik Tok. You were so grateful for all the experiences you were able to get through your platform and with the help of your supporters, but now you were just bored and it wasn’t even nine.

Even after being on the cover of various magazines and modelling for famous companies that you had only dreamed of possibly being able to buy any of their products, you could not comprehend how you made it into YSL’s beauty event in Paris for the launch of Dua Lipa’s Libre perfume.

You wore such expensive clothes that you couldn’t identify your usual self. You felt so expensive. The jewellery, the makeup, the little black dress, they all helped you feel like that. It was a moment that you only used to dream about.

Your hair was bound at the back of your neck with a black bow, and your dress was almost see-through, a soft flowy fabric that reached your mid-thigh. The sleeveless dress, only held on your shoulders by thin straps, didn’t help your chills due to the open windows. The weather was not the best in the city of love. And the river right under the balcony was not helping either, so you sat right by the door and tried to focus on the good part of all of this. The experience

Your thighs and high boots were the ones that helped in any way.

You played with your rings, hoping to calm your anxiety. It was still early and there were still a lot of people due to come, from artists to designers from all around the world.

Even with a still-growing fanbase of 10 million followers on Tik Tok, you feel small among such great people.

Your glass of champagne was almost empty and looking at it made you even more anxious about the whole thing. You looked at it for a long time and then rose from your place to start to walk around the place.

Looking at everyone who was either smoking or taking pictures on the balcony, you thought you would do the same, but you felt tired. You took your pictures when you arrived; they just needed some editing and would be ready to be up online tomorrow, but some videos were soon to be filmed for your Tik Tok. Regardless, everything else was solved, and all you had to do was enjoy your time, sip some champagne, and find some interesting people to talk to.

"Single and ready to mingle," you murmured to yourself as you approached a young man carrying a tray of champagne glasses. You thanked him with the only phrase you knew in French, nodded and started walking around the place, trying to not look lost.

With a glass in your hand, you just decided you should just stand somewhere you weren't in anyone’s path and took out your phone and started to record around the place, right when two men walked in with another one at their heels.

They looked flawless, right out of a magazine. They acted calm. Nothing could disturb them, not even the photographers that started to call them in certain places to get a good picture of them.

You didn’t know any of them, but you were captured by their natural beauty. They seemed out of a fairytale. Both of them were dressed fully in black, as most of the people present there were. One of them wore a black shirt with a low cleavage and silver buttons that climbed down his torso and met at his waist with a black belt and pants. His shoes helped him gain some height but didn’t make him look bad.

The other one... he was the one that took your breath away when you looked into his eyes, just for a moment. You felt it down in your bones that he would be the talk of the night. He had a strand of hair that hung right over his eyebrow, while the rest of his hair was pulled back by gel.

It felt like his clothes were just there. While usually with designer clothes, they wore you, you didn’t wear them. He was dressed so simply, but he still stole the breath of everyone who even dared to look his way.

The man paired a black suit jacket with a simple shirt and suit pants, all of the same colour. The boots he wore were maybe as tall as his friend's, and they helped him gain everyone’s attention. A great number of accessories adorned his body, be it piercings in his ears, the small necklace around his neck or the YSL brooch on his chest pocket.

In every picture he did, he wore a smirk on his face that could make your feet turn into jelly. He smiled at you, somehow feeling that you were watching him carefully. That happened while he moved his eyes off of you, but not only after giving your whole body a head-to-toe scan. He stared for more than a second at your neck, an act that made you reach for the necklace there and hold it, somehow wanting to cover your exposed skin from his sight.

You held your phone close to your chest when someone came to you to ask you something in English, and that took you out of your dreamy moment with the handsome stranger.

The night was still young and everyone was drunk.

Your possible fifth glass of champagne was on the table. You had given up on it long ago and were waiting for the dessert to come so you could leave because your head started to throb and your feet hurt.

The flight you took to get here had a four-hour delay, and the beauty sleep you could’ve taken in your hotel room’s bed, you took in a make-up artist’s chair. Everything hurt, and the jet lag started to get to you.

The dance floor was in full swing though; you would’ve joined if everything didn’t hurt and you were more drunk. But a headache plus a sleepless night plus jelly legs didn’t equal something good, so you were satisfied with watching from the sidelines.

You took enough pictures to even start a scrapbook about this experience or even spam your feed for weeks to come, but you couldn’t do that. Your fans would get bored easily. But the pictures were good, the videos were incredible, and you would soon have to once again either buy more cloud storage or delete old stuff, maybe cooking videos off Tik Tok.

You were starting to get hot. As the sky darkened and the party unravelled, the liquor was poured and the temperature inside the penthouse skyrocketed. You went from being extremely cold to being incredibly hot.

So, in hope of taking a breath of fresh air, you went on the balcony, hugged your arms in hope to protect yourself from the chill Parisian air and admired the city in all its splendour. At night.

"Are you okay with taking a picture?" Someone put a hand on the small of your back while saying that in small, broken English. You turned to them, confused, and came face-to-face with the same man you had been thinking about the whole night.

"I’m Hyunjin." He gave you his hand as a way to introduce himself and slightly bowed, showing respect through his culture.

"Y/N L/N."

He now stood before you just the same as before, maybe a hair in a different position, but everything was the same. He was perfection; you couldn’t understand how he could manage that.

You looked at his eyes, dark brown, and realised you couldn’t identify the pupil from the iris.

Possibly your long silence made him confused about your attitude and whether or not you understood what he said. So you regained yourself and managed to smile and give him a small "Yeah, yeah, of course."

The other boy introduced himself as Felix in the same manner and offered to take your picture.

The hand he put on the small of your back made you focus on trying to stay calm, and the only way was to focus on the red phone in his hands and focus on the apple logo on it.

You tried to smile as much as you could, and before you could register what was happening, the man behind the camera asked you: "Would you like me to take a picture with your phone too?"

You looked at him long and hard and shortly realized that the moment you should have had your phone on you, you didn’t.

"I didn’t bring my phone with me. Can you airdrop it to me if there isn’t any problem?"

"Yes, yes, sure." He moved to start typing on his phone. You stopped him by saying.

"Aren't we taking pictures too?" You asked his friend, who shook his head in reply, smiling and spoke to his friend in another language, possibly asking him to take the picture.

Right before his hand was placed on your waist he introduced himself as Felix.

You were even more sensible now. You had him before you. You could look at him with no problem, and admire him with no one asking what you were doing. The time spent by his friend’s side was short; it felt like seconds. He was either incredibly good at taking pictures or you were too lost in your head.

He nodded and gave you the phone to look at the images while he started talking to his friend in their, possibly, native language.

You should’ve learnt more languages when you had the time. Maybe one would’ve helped you identify what they were talking about. Scrolling through the dozens of pictures on the phone, you realised that, fortunately, your reverie state couldn’t be identified in the picture.

"Like any of them?" he whispered right into your ear, and you felt every hair on your body rise. You raised your eyes from the phone screen, and right in front of them were his lips, chapped but still soft looking, the bottom lip bigger than the top one. While trying not to seem creepy by looking at them, you moved to his eyes, dark pools that called you in, to lose yourself.

You tried to compose yourself by putting some space. Luckily, his friend left while you were looking through the photos. You didn’t need to make a scene here. There were cameras everywhere and even if you didn’t know him, someone else might have and it could have caused a scandal. You coughed shortly and handed him his phone.

"If you can wait right here, I will be right back shortly," you said, trying to get to your table as fast as you could, but without seeming like you were excited about going back to the stranger. Not a stranger anymore. Hyunjin. A name that seemed as special as him. You hoped you could understand the meaning behind it someday. But at that moment, you had to get some pictures of him and enjoy his alluring presence more.

When you made it back to the balcony, he was looking at the shining river with his arms on the balustrade and his legs crossed. When he heard your heels, he turned and gave you a smile that you could bet was something he didn’t share with everyone else.

You typed on the screen, and when you finished setting your phone for the airdrop, he silently asked for it by extending his hand. You placed it in his palm and watched him type a number in it, clearly doing something else.

"You can call. I have a special plan with my provider because of all the recent traveling," you mentioned while he took the other phone out and pressed the green button, and only seconds after you watched your number appear on his phone.

"You could've asked for my number, you know?" You joked and he shook his head, somehow embarrassed.

He said, "Not good with talk, sorry," he said, and thought for a while before he started to talk again.

"Want to walk... me and you?"

"You want us to go for a walk? Around the city?" You tried to help him arrange his thoughts into sentences

He nodded in reply, telling you that was exactly what he wanted to ask and silently waited for your approval for such an activity.

"Okay, let me just take my things and we can go."

The door loudly closed behind you, but you didn’t care at all because you had a man that smelled expensive in your arms. Your nostrils loved his smell. You adored everything about him.

After walking for an hour down the Seine, you bought ice cream from a corner shop that was open 24/7. The cashier cursed both of you for the noise you made while deciding who was going to pay for your products. And you laughed some more and stopped in the proximity of your hotel, which turned out to be his too. But the remaining ice cream in your hands made you choose to walk some more. At some point, drops of cream were coming down your chin, and he moved to wipe it, a movement that led to him touching your lips and smearing some of your lipstick.

The streets were then not as loud as they were during the day, but you stood on the sidewalk and not even a car honk could break you out of your trance.

You weren’t shocked when your lips met his. You had a feeling that everything that had happened that night would lead here. To him in your room. His mouth on yours. His taste is on your tongue and his perfume is in your nostrils.

The material of his jacket was soft to the touch, but you easily got rid of it, and it fell on the carpeted floor silently, while your tongues danced like they had known each other their whole life.

Your dress was long gone when your back met the chilly bed sheets. While your body was covered only by high-waisted pants and black stockings, he was almost in a full outfit.

His lips were exploring your skin and playing with your nipples, and yours were letting deep breaths and moans leave them. His hands were all over you, on your bottoms, legs, and calves. You felt like he was everywhere.

His skin was fair; no tattoos or hair covered it. He felt like a sculpture. He looked like he belonged in a museum, not on stage, not on the streets of any city, not even Paris.

When his mouth met your core, you thought you were in heaven. Even his tongue moved with the precision of a dancer, of a painter. His hands continued to cover every inch of your skin, now fully exposed to the air. You didn’t care what else was happening outside that room. You didn’t care about the possibility of someone seeing you spread out on a bed and enjoying your life to the fullest. The lights from outside didn’t blind you when you opened your eyes.

And when his lips met yours and his hips met yours, you felt like flying. He was fully in your bloodstream. You could swear right there right then that you were his and nobody could take you.

Coming off a high was not the end; it didn’t feel in any way like the end; it felt like a promise for more. A promise to come back to this place, fall again, and live. Because you felt alive. You felt out of this world. Your heart was beating too fast while his lips lazily moved over your skin, somehow painting it in his own paint.

Sleep caught you in its grasp slowly after that. His voice lulled you to sleep while he tried to pronounce your name the right way or learn how English words are really said. You couldn’t fully remember the last thing you heard.

But you were sure that the next morning, the bed was empty, your skin was filled with goosebumps, and your phone was filled with pictures of him all around Paris.

And you realized that that night was the best of your life.

Just because of a little black dress, as he told you before he kissed you the first time.

"You know what was the first thing that caught my attention about you?" he asked, milimetres away from your face.

"What?"

"Your little black dress."

thank so much for reading. a like, reblog and comment would be highly appreciated. hope you enjoyed it and i would love to hear your opinions about this.

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