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cuddlepilefics · 3 years ago

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Hug me again, I don't feel good

Fandom: Stray Kids

Sickie: Jeongin

Caregivers: Stray Kids

Prompt: Fever @sicktember

No one’s POV.:

Stray Kids members always tended to drown their maknae in affection and although he always pretended to hate it, Jeongin secretly liked it. As long as the didn’t undermine his independence that is. Him pretending to hate their hugs, led to the members toning it down a bit, only going full out when they were in a teasing mood and felt like going on their youngest’s nerves. Today they had had to get up early, having a packed schedule ahead of them and not having slept much, the mood ranged from sleepy to grumpy. Jeongin certainly fell into the latter category. He wasn’t usually moody when he was tired but when he was woken up this morning, he felt more exhausted than he had when going to bed the previous night. As soon as they were in the car, he leaned his head on Hyunjin’s shoulder, dozing off again. Considering it was a rather long drive, most of them were trying to get a few more moments of shut eye. Their day would start with a photo shoot, followed by an interview and an afternoon of dance practice. To say Jeongin wasn’t looking forward to it would have been an understatement. He didn’t mind the photo shoot, which was comparably the least tiring activity of the day. The interview wasn’t too bad either but he really dreaded their dance practice, feeling too tired to move. Maybe he’d just need to wake up properly and he’d feel more energized over the course of the day.

While they took turns getting their make-up done, the group slowly started to come to life more. Chan had had his second coffee of the day, making the mistake of getting Felix one too, who was now going through a variety of fortnite dances and hyping Jisung up. The rapper didn’t even need coffee to go crazy, merely someone else he was sharing a braincell with. Together the two tried their hardest to get a reaction from Changbin by annoying him but the older kept a straight face, simply ignoring the pair. At some point, even Chan joined them. Minho and Hyunjin had originally started planning their dance practice but had soon gone over to teasing each other, which escalated to Minho threatening his dongsaeng. Seungmin and Jeongin really seemed like the most normal ones in the group. On other days, Jeongin might have joined his hyungs, having fun and fooling around but today he just couldn’t seem to shake his sleepy haze. Maybe he should get himself a coffee too, since it seemed to have worked wonders on Chan and Felix. Unfortunately, the photo shoot started before Jeongin had the chance to get coffee but the boy pushed the thought away. Busying himself would certainly do the trick too.

The photo shoot didn’t go as well as Jeongin would have liked. Usually, he had no issues with the bright lights surrounding him but they sure made the temperature on set toasty. The maknae was sweating much more than he was used to during photo shoots, even having to get his make-up retouched multiple times. This wasn’t like him and it was humiliating. The staff already clicking their tongues at the boy constantly needing his make-up fixed. Aside from the humiliation, Jeongin felt plainly disgusting with his clothes sticking to him. As his mood was dwindling, his discomfort became more apparent to himself and to the photographer, who kept reminding him to smile authentically. How could he smile authentically right now? He was sore from exercising the previous day, he was burning in his skin, his clothes stuck to him and pretty much everyone on set was annoyed with him. No, smiling seemed like the least thing he wanted to do right now, yet Jeongin always smiled. Maybe not as convincingly as usual but he smiled.

The more time passed, the more the hectic surroundings were getting to him. He was pretty much melting in the thick clothes and was slowly developing a headache, with how bright everything was. The flashing lights were worse though, leaving him feeling disoriented as he tried to follow the instructions given to him as fast as possible in hopes of getting things over with. Sweat was beading his forehead but instead of sending him to get his make up retouched once again, the photographer decided to take a few last pictures, which he’d edit later on, before releasing the boy back to the waiting area. A few of the members still needed to get their individual shots taken, so it was rather quiet back there. Jeongin debated removing his make-up completely but he didn’t want to bother anyone to put another full make-up on him for their interview later. This wasn’t his first photo shoot, so why had he been struggling so badly? In a matter of minutes, the smile he had plastered on, faltered and a single tear trailed down his cheek. Then another. Pursing his lips, Jeongin tried his hardest to calm down and hold the tears back. He didn’t want to mess up his make-up even more. The harder he tried though, the harder it got to keep it together. Yet he only allowed himself tiny, quiet sniffles after already being a burden to so many people so early in the day. He just wanted to be professional.

His efforts were in vain though, when Chan entered the waiting area after finishing his shots. He knew his dongsaeng well enough and calmly went over hugging the younger. “What’s up?”, the leader hummed, taking a step back when Jeongin tensed in his arms. The maknae was already sweating and he didn’t want to be touched, feeling as disgusting as he felt at the moment. “Frustrated”, Jeongin muttered, avoiding eye contact with his hyung, “was holding everyone back with how often I needed to get my make-up fixed.” – “It’s alright. Don’t worry, everyone who’s stood under those floodlights will understand. It does get toasty there sometimes”, Chan assured. He knew he’d probably feel the same if he was in Jeongin’s position, so he made a mental note to make sure the boy wouldn’t get teased for it. The maknae had already accepted that crying had ruined his make-up beyond what could be fixed and accepted the make-up wipe his hyung handed him. Still sniffling quietly, he scrubbed at his face to get it all off. He already contemplated what to tell the staff, who’d need to reapply everything for their interview earlier. At some point, he had managed to pull himself together but still looked a bit gloomy, besides, his face had taken a flushed pink shade, probably from how roughly he had rubbed it. Handing him a bottle of water, Chan sighed: “You feeling better now?” Jeongin shrugged. Did he? He was still just as hot as he had been previously and his head still hurt, through he wasn’t as disoriented. It was nice and quiet now, there were less people and it was less bright, so he had probably just gotten overwhelmed earlier. “I think today’s just not really my day”, he pouted, “I feel like I still haven’t managed to wake myself up and my head hurts from all the chaos.” – “Should we go and get you some coffee? Might at least help for the interview”, Chan offered, “Come on, let’s get out of here for a bit.”

Chan took his dongsaeng to a coffee shop nearby. They could have gotten coffee somewhere closer but he wanted to give the younger some space from their work environment. Jeongin however shuddered the moment he stepped foot outside the building. It wasn’t cold outside but the temperature change messed with his body. The maknae didn’t even notice how he started to walk progressively closer to Chan till the older wrapped an arm around his shoulders, asking: “Are you cold?” Jeongin shook his head but was betrayed by another shiver running down his spine. ‘That’s odd’, Chan noted but decided not to point it out. Instead, he just let the younger stay as close as he wanted. That proved to be of great help when Jeongin stumbled, tripping himself and only being saved the fall by the leader’s arms around his middle. “S-Sorry”, he laughed shakily, already tearing up again. “No, it’s okay”, Chan assured, moving away when the younger regained his balance. That resulted in a whine from Jeongin, who moved along, leaning against the Aussie. “Innie, what’s going on?”, the leader frowned worriedly, confused by the maknae’s behavior. Realizing his actions, Jeongin straightened up and mumbled: “Dizzy.” Why couldn’t the other hug him again? It was exactly what he needed right now, with how upset and cold he felt.

From that moment on, Chan kept a very close eye on Jeongin. He really didn’t seem to be himself today. After they had gotten coffee and returned to the venue, the youngest had gotten comfortable against Felix’ side, who absentmindedly ran a hand up and down the younger’s back. Felix noticed how damp and sticky Jeongin’s shirt still was and offered him to get changed into a fresh one. “No, don’t want to take it off. I’m cold”, the maknae protested, catching most of the members’ attention. Shaking his head, Felix sighed: “Yeah, no wonder you are cold. Your shirt is wet. You’ll feel warmer in a dry one.” – “Hyung, can I have your hoodie?”, Jeongin pouted, giving Hyunjin puppy eyes, who was quick to give it to him. By now, all of them had caught on to their youngest acting weird but could they blame him? They had slept so little, none of them could possibly be in their right mind. At least Jeongin seemed satisfied, pulling the long sleeves of the dancer’s hoodie over his palms. Knowing they’d have the interview next, they all filed into the van.

As soon as they were settled, Jeongin cuddled into Minho’s side, the dancer sitting next to him taken a back. It wasn’t usually Jeongin initiating the skinship but that didn’t mean he minded it. Smiling softly, Minho played with the maknae’s hair and studied the younger’s face. His closed eyes seemed a bit puffy, brows furrowed while sweat beaded his forehead and a small droplet dripped down his temple. Not knowing whether the boy was awake, Minho didn’t dare ask Chan if anything had happened while they were gone. Instead he just decided to let the boy rest on him. Looking up, he met eyes with Jisung, who seemed to think the same. Something wasn’t right. When they arrived, Minho went ahead to talk to Chan, leaving a sleepy Jeongin in his seat. Jisung had stayed behind to wait for the younger, linking their arms but still lagging behind. “Is everything okay, Innie? You seem off”, the rapper asked quietly. At this point, the maknae didn’t feel like keeping up appearances anymore and hesitantly admitted: “I kinda feel off.” – “Are you sick? You know we could let you sit out if you’re sick”, Jisung frowned but his dongsaeng was quick to shake his head, muttering: “I don’t think I am. Probably just slept too little and don’t feel like myself.” The older nodded thoughtfully as he guided Jeongin to get his make-up done again.

Jeongin was the only one needing his make-up done, which gave the rest of the group some time to talk. “He isn’t usually that clingy and he just admitted to feeling off”, Jisung informed and Chan nodded, sighing: “He was really emotional earlier and after almost falling over, he said he was dizzy.” – “Don’t you think he might just be tired? He does tend to get more affectionate when he’s tired”, Hyunjin mused looking at Jisung who had talked to their youngest mere minutes before. Nodding, Jisung pointed out: “He doesn’t think he’s sick and told me he slept to little but I need, who hasn’t? Yet he is the only one that out of it.” – “He seemed to be in pain when we drove here”, Minho disagreed, looking at Chan worriedly. The leader shook his head and sighed: “Let’s just wait, I’m sure Innie would talk to us if something was badly wrong.” Not feeling satisfied with that, Seungmin slipped out of the room, to check on his only dongsaeng privately. He quietly stood in the doorway, watching the younger doze off in the chair. “Do you feel alright, Jeongin-ah? Your face feels really warm”, their make-up noona asked, carefully applying a thick layer of concealer under his eyes to cover the lack of sleep. Jeongin smiled a bit and hummed: “I think the bright lights at the photo shoot heated my skin up a bit. I’m okay.” Seungmin however was only more convinced that the younger was not. Especially now that somebody else was sensing something off as well.

When his make-up was done, the make-up noona glanced at Seungmin and smiled before leaving the two boys alone to talk. “Hey”, Seungmin hummed, sitting down next to Jeongin, “How do you really feel? Something’s not right.” That was enough to bring the younger to tears again and he chewed on his lip, desperately trying to not ruin his make-up again. “H-hyung, I -I don’t know”, he breathed. He cursed himself, why did he have to be so emotional today? When he didn’t elaborate further, Seungmin got up and pulled Jeongin into a hug. He too noticed the heat radiating off the maknae and gently brushed his hand against the boy’s forehead, calmly asking: “Can you describe what you feel? Maybe we can make sense of it.” Jeongin nodded and took a few deep breaths to calm himself down. “I-I just feel really out of it, like I still haven’t woken up since this morning although I’ve been up for hours and even had coffee with Channie-hyung. My head hurts since the photo shoot and I keep sweating although I’m not hot at all anymore. I’m pretty cold actually”, he admitted with shaky hands, “For some reason I don’t feel really steady on my feet and kinda dizzy and I’m really sore from exercising yesterday. Could – could you hug me again? I don’t feel good.” Seungmin complied instantly, hugging the younger tightly and whispering: “I think you’re sick, Innie. To me it feels like you’re sporting quite a fever, which would explain why you feel the way you feel.” – “I can’t – I can’t be sick. My stomach feels perfectly fine, so it couldn’t be a stomach bug but my nose and throat are perfectly fine too, so it couldn’t be a cold either. None of this makes sense, why does nothing make sense?”, Jeongin whimpered, getting worked up again. “Shh, some bugs come only with a fever but that doesn’t make you any less sick. Does that make sense?”, Seungmin soothed, running his hand up and down the younger’s back. Sniffling quietly, the maknae nodded. Unwrapping himself from his dongsaeng, Seungmin smiled: “Alright, let’s go to the others and see what we’ll do about it, yeah?”

He pulled Jeongin to his feet too but the boy stumbled as soon as he was upright, crashing into Seungmin’s chest. Luckily, the older was quick to react and tightened his arms around the maknae, holding him steady while they waited for the dizzy spell to pass. Then they walked back to the room where the rest of the group was waiting. “Hyung, Innie’s sick and running a fever”, Seungmin announced as they walked up to Chan. Pressing the backs of his fingers against Jeongin’s forehead, the leader frowned: “You’re burning. Why didn’t you say anything?” – “I-I …” – “Hyung, we pieced it all together just now. He wasn’t aware”, Seungmin explained, reassuringly holding the younger’s hand. Jeongin nodded, face crumpling as Chan pulled him into a hug. “Do you want to wait here for us to finish the interview?” – “N-no, I can do it. They don’t have many questions for me anyway”, the youngest insisted. Minho joined them, agreeing: “We can cover for him, he just has to sit and look pretty. It’d be more frustrating to be dragged here for nothing. Afterwards we’ll take you home, yeah Innie?” – “No, I want to go with you”, Jeongin whined, always hating to be alone when he was feeling poorly. “We’ll see about that, let’s just get this interview over with”, Chan settled, seeing that it was their time to go on stage.

It went quite well with Jeongin just sitting there in silence. When they walked off the stage though, the maknae broke down, the tears he had held back, now spilling over. Felix was quick to pull him to a quiet corner of the room, cooing: “What’s wrong?” – “Do-Don’t know”, the younger choked out, his voice cracking pitifully. “Just really emotional, huh?”, Jisung hummed, running his hand through Jeongin’s hair. He had followed them worriedly, only getting more worried when the maknae desperately tried to pull himself together but failed. Watching him struggle like this really broke their hearts. Holding his dongsaeng tight, Felix whispered lowly: “You can cry, Innie. Don’t suppress and bottle it up. If you feel like crying, that’s alright, we don’t judge.” The younger nodded, hiding his face against the dancer’s shoulder. Giving them some privacy, Jisung went to get changed. When he was done, Hyunjin had already taken a bunch of make-up wipes and traded places with Felix, so the Aussie could get changed too. “Come on, let’s get your make-up off, so you can sleep. I bet you’re tired”, Hyunjin hummed, gently removing his dongsaeng’s make-up. He did his best to make the younger boy comfortable and couldn’t help but coo at how adorable Jeongin looked in his hoodie.

They got back into the car, where Jeongin settled against Seungmin, shivering slightly. Chan carefully hung his jacket around his youngest dongsaeng’s shoulders and smiled when the boy’s eyes closed. With how exhausted Jeongin was, it came as a surprise to none when the calm movement of the car lulled him to sleep. Not having the heart to wake him, Chan ended up carrying the maknae up to their dorm and to his bed. Minho soon followed them with a bottle of water and fever-reducers, which he placed on Jeongin’s nightstand, along with a note to take them later, when he woke up. When the two oldest members were satisfied their dongaseng was settled, they left the room and got ready for dance practice. Jisung plugged the maknae’s phone in to charge before leaving his roommate to get some rest. While Minho and Hyunjin discussed their dance practice, Felix grabbed a few plushies and took them to Jeongin’s room, so he wouldn’t feel too lonely while they were gone. They were almost ready to leave, originally scheduled to head straight to the company building from the venue of their interview, so they were running a little late. Changbin decided to make one last trip to the bathroom, running a washcloth under cold water and taking it to the maknae’s room. When he gently brushed Jeongin’s hair out of his face, the boy’s eyes fluttered open, disorientedly blinking up at the rapper. “Shh, go back to sleep”, he shushed, carefully spreading the cold compress on his dongsaeng’s burning forehead. He didn’t want to mention the medicine because that would’ve probably woken the younger up completely and they had agreed to let him sleep at all costs. Jeongin would find the medicine when he woke up. Hoping he’d sleep through most of their dance practice, so he wouldn’t feel lonely, Changbin promised: “We’ll be back before you know it.” Then he snuck out of the room and joined the others, eager to get their practice over with and back to the dorm as soon as possible.

#stray kids #skz #fanfic #fanfiction #sick #sickfic #writing challenge #sicktember2021 #yang jeongin #comfort #fluff

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purpleyellow · 4 years ago

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Road To Kingdom

The boyz 12th member

Mae’s masterlist

“A summary of Mae during RTK”

a/n: not @/ me using the performance names as historical events. Feel free to share your thoughts with me. Requests are open! 🧡

... After the concept meeting for Sword of Victory...

Mae cracked open the door to a practice room, making sure no one was inside before dropping her stuff, as well as her body, on the floor. The lightbulb making it almost impossible to keep her eyes open reminded her that she used to do that during her trainee days.

Here she was again, feeling hopeless like she was going to face the biggest challenge ever. And the girl was sure she wasn’t ready for it.

Minkyung had a problem of self-doubting even though she couldn’t pinpoint it, all the members seemed willing to take on the challenge, yet she felt like she’d be the downfall of the group. And yes, she had a thing for being dramatic as well, that’s why she rested the back of her hand on her forehead and sprawled out her other arm.

The door flung open with mild force, startling her from her thoughts and sending her body into a more normal position. Q entered the room without a word and just laid on the floor next to her. Both members looked at the ceiling deep in thought.

Mae went back to the idea she had during the meeting. Not a particularly bright one, though it did attack the fact she felt like an upcoming burden to the group. Taking a deep breath she mumbled, “I think I should take a hiatus”.

After her words, the room went back to silence. Her heartbeat had increased due to the heaviness of what she had spoken, and looking to the side, she saw Changmin frown.

“Are you sick?” He asked after a few minutes and the girl shook her head. “Physically or mentally unwell? Is there an issue we can fix?”

His questions made her taken back, for Mae it was very clear why her taking a break would be beneficial for the group.

“I’m saying because of the program”

“We’re joining a competition, so you want to drop out?” Changmin sat up confused.

“I’m thinking of the bigger picture. The group will do better if you don’t have to worry about me keeping up with you guys”.

“No, you’re not. I’m sorry, but you’re being selfish now” He chuckled. “We don’t mind if you need to repeat the same move a couple of times extra to understand how it goes. Do you honestly think it’s going to help being one person down?”.

“I figured I wouldn’t be setting you back. It can be stressing sometimes and -” She sat up trying to explain her thoughts, and he shook his head.

“Minkyung, you bring a lot to the team, just because you struggle with something doesn’t mean it’s worth losing everything else. When we were rookies I used to get annoyed because you were so quick to give up. But then you began understanding how you learn and your limits. And even though it takes you a little longer you push yourself. Why did you suddenly come back to assuming you can’t do it?”

“The meeting today. Everyone is preparing a lot, there’s so much thought involved and maybe not pulling it off would mean I failed you guys”

“I’m terrified too,” Changmin nodded, placing a hand on his chest “I mean, did you listen to the stunts they were talking about. My first thought was to run away. But then I remembered we’re here to prove ourselves”

Sighing, Mae looked at him annoyed “You’re a great dancer, and singer and whatever else, you’ll do fine because that’s how your body works”

“And you’re an insane performer” He cut her off with wide eyes. A random giggle left his mouth before he continued “I’m talking about acting and becoming another person on stage, you literally do that in the blink of an eye. This is your chance of growth. Who cares if you pull an all-nighter to get the right angle? When you’re on stage it’s like someone else entirely, and we haven’t even done some crazy concepts like we’re planning on doing”

“If the angles are wrong then we won’t look synchronized” The girl mumbled looking at the big mirror and Q chuckled.

“And that’s why you’re not going to rest until it’s perfect. None of us is going too actually. We’re going in as a team, with all our flaws and strengths”

“It’s nerve-wracking, isn’t it?” She mumbled after a moment of silence. Changmin laughed and added. “I’m scared to death”

… Five hours before Catching Fire…

The last rehearsal before the performance had ended and the group went back to their dressing room. Sitting sideways on the couch, Mae rested her head on her arm and watched some members go get their makeup retouched.

Jacob sat on her side and stared at the girl’s blank face before laughing. “Can you blink, so I know you’re still alive?”

Blinking once, she slowly adverted her gaze to him and bit her lip “This is crazy”

“It’s not as fast-paced as they show it on TV though. At least we have some time to process what’s going on” Jacob shrugged making her narrow her eyes at him “But yeah. It is crazy”

“Sunwoo keeps going on high places. And there’s some acrobatic stuff I’m not sure how it works and-” She kept mumbling like she hadn’t been there for the tiring practices and rehearsals. Laughing Jacob interrupted her by adding.

“And you fake kicked someone”

“And I fake kicked someone” Mae repeated with wide eyes making him laugh and Hyunjae approach them.

“Hey, I’ve been jumping on high places too,” He said defensively making her stare at him and shrugged. Jaehyun laughing before patting her on the back “How about once we get home today you have a really long night to sleep”

“I’m good” Mae shook her head “I’ll sleep but tomorrow don’t let me miss the meetings please”

Agreeing with her, Hyunjae stepped back to the styling session and the girl stood up to use the restroom.

Just as Mae turned around the corner, a faint sound of a violin came from Golden Child’s door. Before she could fully process the song it was playing, the door opened wide showcasing Jangjun.

“Well, do we have a spy among us?” He laughed bowing at her and Mae repeated the gesture a little embarrassed.

“I was just passing by and heard the violin. I didn’t mean to interrupt” She said making an x with her hands.

“Nah, I don’t believe you” He teasingly said and dropped an arm over her shoulder, ultimately bringing her inside the room “So, what did you hear? Are you going to sell this information to your members? And what is it going to be your concept today, I can see the hunger games thing on your shirt, is it like a revolution”

“Uh, I don’t know… Hello” Bowing to the rest of Golden Child, the girl tried to remember what he had first asked her. “I only heard a melody, and don’t worry I won’t spread it around”

“Hyung, I told you not to play it right now” Bomin scoffed to Joochan, who seemed to realize he was still holding out his violin before hiding it on his back.

“But Mae-ssi is a friend, isn’t she? She will hold out the shock factor for us” He laughed making the girl nod and give them a thumbs up. “Do you know how to play it too?”

“I do actually” She laughed and Joochan gestured her to take the instrument “Oh, no it’s fine”

“You heard our song already. At least play for us or tell us something about your stage” Jibeom teased leading her to sigh and take the violin to herself.

Fixing up her posture, Mae quickly played a random song she had learned as a child making the boys cheer.

“Okay, I should be going now,” She said bowing embarrassed by their compliments and Denyeol nodded along. Fist bumping her before raising a finger.

“But, Mae if you could do us a favor” He started grabbing her attention “Please make sure you show you’re surprised”

Laughing she nodded making her way to the door, before leaving she held up her hands with her fists closed “Golden Child fighting!”

“Mae fighting!”

(requested by 🍓🥛 anon)

… Behind the scenes for Heroin…

“Why are we so embarrassing?” Sunwoo giggled and clicked his pen repeatedly. He and Mae were sitting on the same side of the table waiting for Leedo from Oneus to show up for the writing session.

Bouncing her leg, Mae hugged the boy’s arm and looked at the door expectantly, only to get startled by it opening up.

“Hello” The tall boy put his head inside the room and entered it slowly. The three idols greeted each other and sat down still a little awkward from being the first time they truly interacted.

“I got the demo, so we can write the raps to go with it” Leedo said unlocking his phone. A piano melody that would blend in with Sunmi’s Heroin started playing, and Mae quickly unlocked her own device.

Opening a piano app, she waited for the recording to be over before quickly replicating it on her phone in different tempos.

“You picked it up quite fast” Leedo laughed scribbling down on his paper, and she smiled. “Sorry, just a habit before writing. This way we can adjust it as we go”

“No yeah, sure” He cleared his throat and Sunwoo bit his lip to prevent himself from laughing.

“Anyway, for the lyrics, I was thinking we could talk about becoming an idol”

After finishing up with their rap parts. The three idols made their way up to the practice room where the rest had began working with the choreographer.

“Mae, come here” Juyeon called out as soon as she stepped in the room, so he could run over some parts with her and Ravn. “There’s only actual choreography for you after the last chorus, but we do some kind of puppet thing during your verse”

“My love for this song couldn’t be any bigger” Mae giggled and looked around the room for the camera “Sunmi Sunbaenim, if you’re watching this, let’s be friends”

Laughing, Juyeon pulled out a chair for them to start while saying “Watch out. Taemin Sunbaenim commented on danger, maybe she’ll actually see this”

“Wait, he did” Mae stopped with wide eyes and Juyeon nodded. “Holy sh-”

“Yeah” Laughing he pulled her arm “Just remember this is still a broadcast”

“Honestly, if she ever reaches out let me know. I want to be her friend too” Ravn added making them giggled, and she gave him a positive sign.

“As long as you don’t tell Juyeon, because he’s been censoring me a lot lately”

“Well, we have an agreement”

Sulking, Juyeon added “I don’t see how this is fair but okay”

… 1 minute after Quasi una fantasia …

The members bowed to the staff and extras before slowly stepping away from the stage. Mae could see some of the boys crowding around Juyeon who seemed pretty upset, though she had no idea what was going on.

Holding her side, the girl went behind the boy and gave him a back hug making them waddle together back to the dressing room. Once they were all settled back, she stepped away from the crowd and raised her shirt a bit showcasing a forming bruise right above her waist.

“Crap, how did that happen?” Kevin who looked her way at the right time said under his breath. “You need to ice it, probably"

“I bumped on the corner of the piano," She said recalling the incident. “Hopefully it wasn’t noticeable. The camera wasn’t turned to me anyway”

The one part that had gotten her most nervous during this performance was her piano solo for the climax of Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata. Not only it dictated the rhythm for the first dance break, but it was also challenging for her as she hadn’t played something like this in a while, and it ended a few seconds before her part.

So strategically speaking, she had to run off the instrument as soon as it was done and went back to the center of the performance. Not without hitting her hip against the wood.

“Is it hurting?” He asked while waving for a staff member and asking them for ice.

“It’s starting to. Do you think it’ll leave a big bruise?” Mae shrugged and hissed as the cold hit her warm skin. Shaking her head, she tried to focus on something else “Well, not mentioning everything. How was the performance?”

“Weren’t you there to see it yourself”

“I don’t know. I kind of blackout every time we go on stage” She made him laugh, but her face was dead serious.

“Wait really?”

“Kind of. I can remember it roughly I guess. Today there was so much to focus on that I’m not sure if I was entirely present. I banged my hip and didn't feel it at first for all things”

“Dude, same I guess. I need to lay down and get smushed by ten weighted blankets tonight” Kevin added hugging her on the other side and leading them to the couch.

… 3 days before Checkmate …

“The synchronization feels off” Eric spoke from the huddle of members watching the recording of their practice.

“Mae…” Q started, but before he could finish the girl spoke “Right arm higher. I got it”

“If you got it then why didn’t you do it right away” He turned playfully to her and poked her nose.

Massaging her back, the girl laughed and walked back to her spot next to Haknyeon. The boy dropped his bottle on the floor to help her out “Did you fall on your side?”

“No. I did trip while running from one side to the center, so maybe that was it” She shrugged looking around the room “Nobody is intact”

“Tell me about it” He pouted and called Sangyeon closer. “Hyung, maybe we should work on another part. We’ve been doing this section of the chorus for too long”

“Go talk to the captain, I’m not in charge of that” The leader laughed sending him towards Changmin, Juyeon, and Hyunjae talking to one of the choreographers.

“They would listen if you��re the one asking,” Mae said leaning on his side and Sangyeon nodded.

“Yeah, but I already came all the way over here. I don’t feel like walking back” Sangyeon chuckled, looking to the side where one of the staff members started calling his attention.

“We’ve got the costumes ready if you want to do a rehearsal with them” Looking up at the leader, Mae separated herself from him to run for the stylists while he went to call the other boys.

After the stylists helped her put on her clothes, one of them brought a box and quickly pulled her to the side “I know we’re not doing hair and makeup for today. But I’d figure it’s best for you to have it on for the rehearsal so we can make sure it won’t fall”

“Wow, is she getting a present?” Eric laughed approaching them and the stylist opened the box to reveal a thin black tiara to go along with her outfit.

“The crown itself is one of the props, so we had to make it subtle, but we couldn’t pass away the chance to represent the nickname you were given during the program,” She said helping her adjust the thing on her head and Mae walked to one of the mirrors.

“Wow, thank you so much Unnie,” The girl said checking herself out in the mirror “My face looks dead but damn this is pretty” She added making Eric and New, who also had joined them, laugh.

“You know, during a chess game, the Queen is one of the main pieces” She turned around to them holding a hand to her chest and a teasing expression “Thank goodness we didn’t go with a narrative that would give me that role because I’d crumble under the pressure”

“Only for the first week, then it would quickly get to your head” Chanhee scoffed patting her on the back and making her giggle. Eric chuckled as well and urged them outside “Let’s go work, so we can get Kingdom’s lost princess back to her place”

“Mock me as you want, I never asked for the nickname”

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wafflebloggies · 3 years ago

Photo

Spectra came out really nicely in the end for a project in which everything that could go wrong, did. I nearly broke her neck, and for some reason I still do not understand, when I took her out of the de-glueing bath and rinsed her off, half the black paint on her right eye smeared off. It is NOT SUPPOSED to do that!!

I had to retouch it to the best of my ability- it looks a little rough but only if you really look. Bottom two pictures are before and after my retouch.

The de-yellowing I talked about last week worked very well, and her hair is nice and soft now, no glue (I suspect it might need some more work in the future, but we’ll see)

I think it was worth it, because she’s my favorite Spectra- with the bright fuchsia in her hair, and her super-dark purple lips, she stands out a mile!

#spectra vondergeist #monster high #doll repair #doll restoration #my doll collection

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papermoonloveslucy · 3 years ago

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LUCY vs TIME

June 22, 1973

The publicity photos, from the movie set of Mame were unrecognizable. Unrecognizable! Why, they were unbelievable. Either somebody had shot them through six layers of soft-focus gauze - or a time machine.

Who was this frisky redhead hoofer kicking up her heels on the distant reaches of some resplendent soundstage, cannily avoiding a camera close-up?

Who was this svelte eyed lady fluttering from beneath a fringed rug of false lashes, not a wrinkle, sag or bag, not to mention even an expression line, sporting her famous face?

Well, clearly the lady was a star. And as star of Warner Brothers' new $8 million musical version of Mame, Lucille Ball had veto rights over all still photographs.

The trouble was that obviously nobody had had the nerve to tell her that if she could order reality rubbed out of a picture with a wave of the retoucher's brush, she couldn't pull the gauze over the eyes of an interviewer ushered into the Mame set to confront the living flesh, unretouched.

Time has not been unkind to Lucille Ball. No, beneath a billowing wine velvet and cream satin lounge suit, the svelte one-time chorus-girl's curves are still obvious. Despite a badly broken right leg from a skiing accident that had left the shooting of Mame stalled and the star in a cast for nearly a year, the shapely former showgirl's gams had now already carried her through a dozen dance routines up on top of pianos and down banisters that would have taxed a tap-dancer half her age.

At 61, Lucille Ball could pass for a dozen years younger. But only a dozen years.

The outrageous, outsize eyelashes now stick like pine spikes out of a swamp of tucks, puckers and bags etched around her shrewd big baby-blues. Her plastic face is a relief map of over-made-up wrinkles, the big bright red Cupid's-bow mouth lipsticked in a smile outside her own spidery upline.

But you don't survive 22 years on TV in the top ratings, get renewed once again this season when all about Bridgets and Bernies and Dean Martins (1) are falling to the network's chop, practically bear a baby and outlast a broken real-life marriage on the TV tube, take over a foundering corporation and build it into the single most powerful independent TV production house, without it showing in your face.

One look at Lucille Ball's face and you don't doubt it for a minute when Hal, her make-up man for 32 years, says she used to limp on to the Mame set in excruciating pain. Then, the minute the cameras clicked on, burst into a dazzling and seemingly effortless song-and-dance.

Not that the lady would admit it for a minute. "It was excruciating pain," she dismisses the subject airily.

But then these days she's not admitting much. It was a lesson learned the hard way. One recent fateful February day, over perhaps one too many Pouilly-Fuisses on the rocks, she was admitting so much so freely to the New York Times that the story read like a Hedda Hopper monologue.

On Desi Arnaz Sr., the Cuban bongo (2) player-bandleader she met and married out of a chorus line in 1940 and divorced 22 years later after a marriage that was even stormier off -screen than on: "He drank too much and he couldn't stand success."

On Desi Arnaz Jr., their 20-year-old son and his much-publicized romance with actress Patty Duke: "I had my doubts if the baby was Desi's at all. I said to him, "You feel responsible? Boy, you're all of 16 1/2 years old and you want to spend the rest of your life with this neurotic person?'"

On Liza Minnelli, then Desi's current fiancée: "They took her for over a million and a quarter more than her mother's debt. Just for beginners..."

One mention of the story now is enough to send sparks flying. "Why, that man should be..." she sputters over the reporter, "...spanked!"

It's a first burst of spontaneity from a lady who, once burned, is now so careful that she sounds at times as if he's dictating to the Library of Congress.

"I never thought I'd get this far, do so much, have such beautiful children," she says, chain-smoking in her dressing-room, all the wide-eyed telephone lineman's daughter from upstate New York. She knocks on wood.

"All I ever wanted was to get to vaudeville and I never made it."

When she hit New York to take acting classes at 16, the school sent back her mother's money, saying. "No talent." And now, refund in hand, 81-year-old DeeDee Ball, as the whole family calls her, sits in a front-row seat for every “Here's Lucy” show, just as she has done non-stop for the last 22 years.

Still it wasn't till 1951, when the Amazes dreamed up the “I Love Lucy” show, patterned after their own lives, as a way of keeping their marriage together and bandleader Desi home from the road, that success came.

But when it came, it was she who stole the show.

By two years later, 68 per cent of TV viewers in America were tuned in to see her show-by-show birth to Desi Arnaz Jr., whose arrival vied with the U.S. presidential election results for front-page space under the headline, "Lucy's $50 million baby."

Everybody, it seemed, loved Lucy except perhaps Desi Arnaz. Despite her insistence that "the series was happy there was no fighting. It was the greatest time of my life," she admits, "the trouble came much later. Only the last five years were hard."

Which means that the greatest time of her life lasted only a scant six years. When their marriage broke up officially in 1962 (3), friends introduced her to a stand-up comic named Gary Morton, now her producer, vice-president of Lucille Ball Productions, Inc., official show warm-up man and for 11 years now, Mr. Lucille Ball.

As her daughter Lucie, 22, and still a performer on the show, puts it. "She may be the king of stage 12, but at home she's queen Gary's the king!"

She indulges his passion for golf and a garage full of classic cars, but with the warning: "If he ever looks at another woman, I'll kill him."

She says she never makes a business move without him, but when she was left to head up the giant Desilu Corporation after her marriage break-up, it was she who was known as the woman shrewd enough to snap up “Mannix”, “Mission Impossible” and “Star Trek” when they were apparently doomed pilots, a comedienne who was not so comical in the executive suite.

But as for her much-vaunted business acumen, she is all denials and femininity.

"Me? No way. Desi did the whole thing. He was a fantastic businessman. I only took it over to build it up and sell it. I mean, there was a certain amount of building up to do."

When she took it over from Arnaz in 1961, Desilu had lost over $600,000. When she sold it seven years later, for $17 million in Gulf and Western stock, making her the conglomerate's largest stockholder and, some say, the wealthiest woman in Hollywood, the company had grossed $30-million and made a profit of ever $800,000.

"But everyone in the know knew I wasn't tough," she says. "No, the men I surrounded myself with were."

Still there a flinty glint behind the false lashes, a shrewd imperious purse to the painted lips, a ring to the wise-cracking whisky voice that's used to being heard. She moves around the Mame soundstage in queenly command, dispensing Norman Vincent Peal-doms, part star, part super-mother.

When it comes time for a scene featuring co-star Bea Arthur, she practically takes over directing from Gene Saks, Miss Arthur's husband. "Now did you tell her what side of the camera to be on?" she asks Saks, who looks like he might explode. "Now honey, toe your mark," she fusses over Bea, who grows quiet, explaining later:

"Lucy's really a dear. But sometimes it can get a little overpowering."

She doesn't talk to people without picking lint off their clothes, and straightening their collars, a habit that comes naturally enough to a woman who has her whole retinue, hairdresser, secretary, make-up man and driver of the last two decades - even her little picket-fenced French-provincial dressing-room trailer, with its false shutters and plastic ivy - picked up and transplanted wherever she strays from Lucy Lane where she presides at Universal Studios, year after year.

With her kids, she was, as daughter Lucie says, "Strict - and you want to believe it. We were the only kids we knew who had to work around the house for whatever money we'd get." Lucie still gets paid only scale for her mother's show.

But Desi Jr. wasn't exactly a natural. "He'd be asleep on the sidelines and I'd be ready to smack him," Lucy says, "When he said he was interested in serious acting, I said, 'Oh, really?' But he got out and worked. He surprised me. He surprised everybody. He even surprised himself."

Still, for all her talk about the joys of getting away to her Colorado ski lodge where she does "the cooking, the washing, the socks, the things I miss - not to mention the leg breaking - there's not much chance that Lucille Ball is going to be sitting the next round out, wallowing in domesticity, In the old rocking chair.

# # #

FOOTNOTES FROM THE FUTURE

(1) “Bridget Loves Bernie” was a 1972 sitcom about a mixed marriage between a Jewish man and a Catholic woman. Like Lucy and Desi, stars Meredith Baxter and David Birney were also married in real life. Despite excellent ratings (it was the highest-rated new show of the 1972-73 season) the show was cancelled after only one season. The official reason for its cancellation was that it was scheduled between two mega-hits, “All in the Family” and “The Mary Tyler Moore Show”, and its ratings weren't strong enough considering its choice position in the line-up.

Also, that same season, the long-running “The Dean Martin Show” (1965-1974) was cancelled. Lucille Ball had made three appearances on the show, and he also appeared on hers.

(2) Conga drums, not bongos. It is slightly dismissive to call Desi Arnaz a bongo player.

(3) The editor makes the error of assuming that Lucy divorced Desi and Married Gary Morton the same year. She divorced Desi in April 1960, and married Gary in November 1961, a year and a half later.

This article was published in the Leisure section of The Vancouver (BC) Sun on June 22, 1973. The article was written by Marci McDonald and illustrated by David Annesley.

#Lucille Ball #Mame #Vancouver Sun #Marci McDonald #David Annesley #Bridget Loves Bernie

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rwinnie85 · 3 years ago

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divineluce · 5 years ago

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Tickled Ink || Darwin & Luce

Timing: May 6th, 2020

Location: Ink, Inc.

Tagging: @wardinasrani

Notes: Darwin comes in to get an old tattoo touched up and Luce is happy to provide. Not a single heterosexual character was involved in the making of this chatzy.

Tapping her stylus against the edge of the desk, Luce stared at the design on her computer for a long time. It was as good as it was going to get, honestly. The design wasn’t one of her favorites, but the girl who had requested it was very insistent on it. She wanted a half realistic, half geometric butterfly with geometric pieces kinda flying off the geometric side. Had Luce argued with her that it would make an awful piece? No, of course not. She liked getting paid. But, it was going to be a fucking awful time. Booting up her printer, she set the stencil to start printing and wandered out of her room to the lobby. Rory was walking a client through paperwork, but she waved at him all the same. “Your 3 o clock, the butterfly girl? Yeah, she had to reschedule.” The receptionist said. Rolling her eyes, Luce sighed. “Figures. I’ve still got that booking at 6 though, right?” She said before confirming that her evening was booked up. Ugh. She’d put all that fucking work in just to have the girl flake on her. Better for her to get cold feet about it now than when she was getting it zapped away with a laser, though. As Luce scrutinized the schedule, the bell to the shop jangled loudly and she waved offhandedly.

Getting lost had become part of Darwin's daily routine by now. Inevitable when he was still so new to the town, but a hassle nonetheless. On the bright side, it often lead him to discover small little gems, and this time his wandering had led him to stand in front of a small tattoo parlor. “Ink Inc., mh? Catchy, if a bit uninspired.” Yet the place looked clean enough. Darwin lifted his shirt, just enough to glimpse at the faded tattoo on his hip. How long had it been since he'd gotten that protective symbol? Ten years? Twelve? Time, and one too many scuffles with stubborn demons who just wouldn't go back to their own dimension had taken their toll on the ward, to the point where now it had probably lost all its protective properties. Darwin looked at the parlor. “Guess it's time for a little update,” he mumbled to himself before opening the door and just strolling into the parlor as if he owned the place. Without sparing a glance to the woman in the lobby, his eyes drifted immediately to the drawings hanging on the wall. A good protective tattoo needed to be perfect to be effective, so Darwin took his sweet time studying the sketches and pictures. Good lines, a firm hand. Definitely professionals. Nodding to himself with satisfaction he finally turned to the woman, studying her with the same attention he'd given to the works on the wall. Lots of ink on her skin, too, which meant she knew her way around tattoos. His mind made up, Darwin waved at her with a dramatic flourish. “Greetings! I'm here for my appointment.” He had no appointment, of course, but someone probably did, and Darwin was willing to bet their design wasn't nearly as essential as updating his own protective ward.

Luce was no stranger to people coming in and straight up ignoring her-- usually it was because they were too nervous, sometimes it was because they were on their phone, which was hilarious and stupid. But this dude waltzed in like he owned the place, staring at the different art displays around the main lobby. Leaning against the reception desk, she watched as his eyes focused on a couple of her own designs. And when his gaze turned to her, Luce folded her arms across her chest, her sleeve tattoos on prominent display. She met his eyes with an unyielding, unimpressed stare of her own. If this was meant to be some kind of sizing her up thing, she’d been through this before. So many shitty big ass biker dudes had thought that she was some kind of hack, that she couldn’t handle being a tattoo artist. But, they changed their mind real quick once they were in the chair. At his words, Luce lifted an eyebrow. “Mhm, three o clock right? I’ve got your design all drawn up. You wanted the butterfly on the lower back, right, Julia?” She said, her lips curling into a grin.

“Yes, three o'clock, quite right, sorry I'm a little late. Glad you can accommodate my-” Luckily for once in his life Darwin actually managed to listen to what someone else said and he stopped himself in time. He couldn't help but frown a little. He could understand the Julia, many people had described him as flamboyant and Darwin himself had used worse fake names than that, but... “I like to think that if I ever were to get a tramp stamp I'd be able to come up with something more original than a butterfly. Maybe a Barghe-- A wolf skull, with flames coming from its eye sockets and an elaborate rose growing from its mouth.” Sarcasm and indignation wrestled on his face for a second, and then he settled for a short sigh as he took out his phone and glanced at it. “Well, it's already 3.15... I'm guessing Julia stood you up. Care for a replacement?”

“Oh, but it’s a very pretty butterfly. With shards of glass everywhere. Very cute. Sure to bring all the boys to the yard.” Luce said, her grin growing at the man balking at the idea. “Oh, yeah, something as original as a flaming wolf skull and a rose?” She said and tilted her head to one of the art pieces on the wall behind her-- the rose wasn’t growing from the wolf’s mouth, but the wolf skull had fiery eye sockets and was surrounded by roses. She’d done it for Ulf shortly after he’d told her about his wolfy heritage, just to keep it around. “Mhm, fair point. You got a name, not Julia? I’m Luce.” She said, holding out a hand for him. She liked the opportunity to work with someone who could be taken down a peg. Or, at the very least, someone who she could have an amusing back and forth with. Having a chatty client made it more fun when she stabbed them full of needles and ink.

Darwin glanced at the piece and let out a long sigh, burying his face in his hand. “Alas, there goes my new tattoo. Can't have something so similar to another one, imagine the embarrassment if we ever attended the same cocktail party.” After what he deemed an adequate dramatic pause he grabbed Luce's hand and bent down in what looked like a kiss to the hand. His lips never touched the woman's skin, but the smile he flashed up at her oozed charm. Or at least, that's what he liked to think. “Darwin Asrani, it's a pleasure.” He gently let go of Luce, but his eyes lingered once more on her art. “I like your style, and I'd hate to walk out without taking a little bit of your talent with me. Since my first idea was already taken could I bother you for some touch-ups instead? And perhaps we could schedule something new and original for my next visit. I'm thinking a well-dressed dinosaur drinking the blood of his enemies from a fancy teacup. That way people will know that I'm majestic, refined and dangerous.”

“Oh, no. I’m sure it’d send everyone into a panic to be seen with the same tramp stamp. Whatever will people at the country club think?” Luce said with an exaggerated fanning motion, as though she was some kind of fainting Southern belle. When he reached out to grab her hand, she stared at him, both amused and very much ready to knee this man in the face. But, he never kissed her hand-- which, good fucking thing. Anita, kissing her hand? Totally fun and gay and great. This rando? Sexual harassment. As he looked up at her, Luce pulled her hand away and shook her head. “Luce, can’t say the same.” She said, but her tone was joking. This guy was batshit, but in the fun kind of way. She could fuck with that, no hetero. As he continued to spout out bullshit, Luce couldn’t help but laugh. “Sounds like you’ve got a real winner of an idea there. But why not up the ante and make him drinking straight up poison out of the cup? You know, to show that you can’t be fucked with. Go big or go home, you know?”

“Can't say the same yet,” Darwin corrected her with a confident smirk. “I'm sure you'll find plenty of pleasure in stinging me over and over while I'm on that torture chair of yours.” Truth be told, he appreciated the woman's quick wit: it would be a great distraction. Darwin was no stranger to pain, but he wasn't too keen on it either, and he wouldn't be able to face himself if he started to whimper like a whiny puppy once she had her tools out. Good conversation would help with that, maybe he'd be able to leave the parlor with his dignity, as well as with a retouched tattoo. Darwin stroked his chin, pretending to be deep in thought. “Poison it is, but it'll have to drink it from a bendy straw. Otherwise all the boys will be too intimidated to really come to my yard, and that would be a tragedy.” He nodded solemnly, and quickly added “But that seems like the sort of design that would require a couple of drafts at least, we can't rush art. So for today I think I'll just have you work on what I already have, if that's alright?”

“Someone thinks highly of himself. But, you’ve got a point there. Not as sharp as mine, but a point all the same.” Luce said, matching his smile with one of her own, with a wink thrown in for good measure. “Oh, in that case, we should change it to a milkshake glass. Just to really make sure the boys aren’t confused.” When the conversation turned to the real reason he walked into the shop, she leaned against the wood of the desk and scrutinized him, trying to see if the art in question was anywhere visible. But, it didn’t seem like it was the case. With a nod, she drummed her hands on the counter top. “What sorta shit are you looking to get done? Cover up, touch up, extension of your piece? I can roll with anything, just know my next appointment is in a couple of hours. So if it goes long, we’ll have to schedule a second session.” She warned, knowing that some people didn’t like the idea of having to come in twice to get work done. But, that was the price of a walk-in.

“Cherry milkshake, then. It'll look like blood. Plus, it's my favorite.” Darwin said that last part as if he was sharing some deep personal secret. Which wasn't that far off from the truth, only Bertrand and a couple more were aware of his sweet tooth. Then his whole posture changed, and the hint of a playful grin on his face made way to a serious expression. “I need it to be perfect. Two, three, take seven whole weeks if you need to, but it has to be flawless. Matter of life or death.” Namely, his own life or death: relying on a defective protective tattoo had cost more than a couple hours of time to members of his family that were too careless to care. Quickly he lifted his shirt up, letting Luce look at the tattoo on his hip. The size of a closed fist, it was a protection symbol that'd been passed down his family for generation, each Asrani adding his own personal touch. Sanskrit symbols formed a small circle surrounding some other runes intertwined together. The Sanskrit prayer protected his mind from demonic invasions, the runes made it harder for them to interfere with his own magic during the summoning. It wasn't pretty, but it was effective, and any magic user worth their salt would recognize it was more than just some ice-breaker to use in a bar to pick up guys: while the full scope of the tattoo might be a mystery, it was obvious it had power. Or used to have: the black ink was faded with time, and a small scar that suspiciously looked like a claw mark had touched, albeit barely, the edge of the tattoo, interrupting some of the lines. “Do it well, and you’ll have my official permission to call me Julia till the end of time.”

Normally, if a dude decided to flash her in the shop, Luce would have wasted no time in kicking his ass out the door. And Ulfric had even let her get those brand new swords, just for that purpose. But, when her eyes fell on the intricate design, the symbols written in either Arabic or Sanskrit-- the two were difficult to distinguish between with her untrained eyes-- and the very distinct rune that the letters formed… Luce knew exactly what this was, even if she didn’t know the specifics regarding it. This was a rune of protection and a very well done one at that. Her eyes widened as she took in how intricately and cleanly the line work was executed. The attention to detail was exquisite. “Done. Come on in to my room, we’ll get started right away.” She said, leading the way back to her private room of the shop. Her room looked just the same as ever, neat and organized, the large rolling toolbox that she used to hold her equipment tucked in the corner. The walls were decorated with a few shelves that had a couple candles, a polished citrine crystal, and some of her artwork. A pinboard, refreshed with new stencils filled one wall, the prices written on the edges of each paper. Shutting the door behind her, Luce pushed up the sleeve of her t-shirt, showing him the intricate geometric pattern she had tattooed on her skin, the center of which featured a very specific rune, one of fire and power. “You showed me yours, I’ll show you mine. The line work is incredible-- where’d you get it done?”

Darwin was usually good at keeping his reactions under control. Or rather, he often overreacted, but that was a choice, not a mistake. This time though the flash of surprise hadn't been planned, nor was the deep interest as he studied Luce's tattoo. He even raised his hand, one finger extended to trace the symbol on her arm. Luckily, he managed to stop himself in time. “That is remarkable.” While he wasn't an expert on elemental magic, fire was often a component in his rituals, and as such he knew enough to recognize the rune for what it was: authentic. Darwin wasn't sure of the specific purpose of it, but he knew it was... Some sort of catalyst, perhaps? Either way, that rune meant Luce either was a magic user, or knew someone. “What does it represent, exactly?” After a beat, he realized that answering her question with one of his own would not satisfy her, so Darwin quickly added. “Mine is... You could say it's something of a family tradition, really. The design has been passed down for generations. I added my own personal touch to it, because I firmly believe that, ah... Tattoos should be tailored to oneself. Otherwise they're just scribbling on skin, absolutely useless.” Again, a brief pause, where he cleared his throat. “As an ice-breaker, I mean. Obviously.”

When Darwin moved to trace the image etched into her skin, Luce’s eyes narrowed. Apparently this dude was a big tactile kinda guy. Whatever. She could let it slide, just because he seemed to think it was impressive. But, he stopped himself. Good for him. “Thanks. Drew it myself, and had one of the boys do the work. It’s impossible to tattoo yourself from that angle. It’s one of my foci, I use it to give myself a little extra oomph.” She said, rolling her sleeve back down to cover that specific area of her tattoo. Even to those who knew about magic, she had designed her rune in a way that made it nearly indistinguishable from the geometric pattern that surrounded it. A person would have to be familiar with magic and the symbols concerning fire to understand. And, even then, there were more than a few normal humans who walked around with runes they didn’t understand tattooed on her skin. “Hm.” A traditional rune of protection? She could understand why some people would want such a thing. It didn’t tell her anything about what kind of magic he did, only that he was in the business of keeping himself safe rather than channelling additional power. Interesting. “Very nice. And you know I can understand that. Tattoos are an extension of yourself. Family tradition or not, you should express your own personality within it.” She said with a nod before returning to her more businesslike demeanor. “A touch up for that bad boy of yours won’t be easy, but I do good work. I can guarantee nice, clean lines.”

Someone who knew what a focus was and used the right plural for it. If Darwin hadn't been so gay he would have fawned himself like an excited school-girl. Instead he settled for an impressed nod and another smile. He was dying to know more about her, to learn how much she actually knew, what she did... But it was dangerous: for all Darwin knew his family would eventually look for him, and he couldn't just trust the first magic-inclined person he met. Well, second one, but Winston spoke like a newbie, Darwin doubted they had any ties to the Asrani. So, in order to protect himself, Darwin decided for it'd be best to bring the focus back on the reason he was here, and luckily Luce seemed to share that idea. “Oh, I don't doubt your ability. What's more, you seem to know how crucial precision is with this kind of design, so... Just tell me where you want me and please, be careful. I'm ticklish.” Not one to usually follow orders, this time Darwin got himself into the mind frame of listening to each and every instruction she'd give. Then again looking at the various tools in the studio reminded him of exactly why he'd put it off for so long. Stupid needles. A sharp ceremonial knife across his arm never scared him, the pain only lasted a second and then he had rituals to focus on and distract him from it, but the chair of a tattoo-artist meant he'd have to feel each and every single sting. Safety be damned, he needed the distraction. “So, an extra oomph. Amber stones just weren't doing it for you? Most practitioners I've met tended to favor something less...” Traceable? Recognizable? “Permanent to channel their magic.”

“Sounds like a plan to me. Lie on back and I’ll get everything started.” Luce said, gesturing to the chair between them. “Take your shirt off too, can’t have it getting in the way.” She said as she got the needles, ink, and a fresh pair of gloves on. The business of touch ups wasn’t too difficult, not usually. But on something that was this precise, this delicate, she needed to make sure that she had everything just right. “Trust me, I know. It took a while before I found the right artist to do my sleeve and I made sure the guy’s hands were just as steady as mine. Precision matters for work like this.” She said as she pulled her long hair back in a ponytail. Snapping on some fresh gloves, she noted the apprehension on his face as she pulled out the tools of the trade, the individually packaged needles that sat on a sterile tray, her machine poised at the ready. Setting up her machine, she took out a spray bottle of sterile solution and wiped down the patch of skin that was to be her workspace. “Let’s get started, hm?” She nodded, switching on her machine. The familiar humming vibration filled the room and she set to work, tackling the biggest area of faded skin and ink first. “I’m not like most practitioners. Besides. My symbols blend in with my designs. I hide them in plain sight. Distract with the main design to keep the attention away from the purpose.”

Darwin did as he was told, taking off his shirt and carefully folding it before taking his place on the chair. He wasn't too concerned with the shirt itself, it was more an excuse to buy some time: just like the last time the sight of the needles made his knees a little weak and his face just a tad paler; he hoped she wouldn't notice. When she started the pain wasn't that bad. At first. But Darwin knew how these things went, it would only become worse, so he decided to just focus on Luce's words instead, drinking them in. “Smart. Misdirection is often a magician's best friend.” He tensed his stomach in discomfort, and he noticed that she seemed to anticipate that and stop her work, which put his mind at ease: she really was a professional. “Besides, in my experience the times you need... Ah, an extra oomph, as you put it, are often the times when you can't afford your focus to be swatted away. A crystal can be dropped, a tattoo... Not so much.” Again, he flinched, doing his best to hide the grimace behind another smile. “I could think of at least a dozen times that tattoo has saved my life, it's nice to know the bad things'll have a harder time getting into my head.” He bit his lip, suddenly deep in thought. Then he looked at Luce. “So, let's say I designed another one, maybe something to help with channeling... How much would you ask to make it all discreet and pretty-like? I got a feeling I'll need some extra power in this town, but I can’t give up on style.”

While she was focused on her work, Luce considered being able to read her client’s body language a part of that. She’d tattooed her own sisters, after all, and the two of them hated needles more than anyone she knew. Which is why she paused every so often, checking the man’s expression, making sure that he never went pale and that he remained alert. She nodded at his comment as she wiped away some of the ink from the skin with a paper towel, clearing the area so she could continue over the delicate, intricate letters and symbols. But, internally she frowned at the idea of being called a magician. That was Bea’s thing. Not hers. “Exactly. It’s always nice to have it on hand. Or rather, on shoulder.” She joked. She watched him flinch and paused, lifted needle away from his skin. She didn’t want to ruin his… rune. As she continued her work, his words played around in her mind. Dozens of times, hm? That explained the wear and tear on it. But, getting into his head-- what did that mean? Someone try to take his memory, like her sister did to August? Or did he mean something else. Hm. “Channeling? Depends on what kind of thing you’re channeling.” She said, pulling away to look at her handiwork from afar. Nice. “For the elements, I use the old alchemical symbols. They blend in nicely with my style. Sacred geometry.” She said, tilting her head to the pinboard with some of her designs were displayed. “For other things… I could hide it in a landscape, imbued with power. Or in the gilded edges of a neo-traditional mirror. It all depends on what you’re looking to channel.”

“Elements, huh? So I was right, you really are a Firecracker.” Darwin said with a small shrug, one that he immediately regretted. “For me it's usually safer to stay away from flames, but most rituals draw power from the elements, I thought I recognized something.” He grew silent, his brows furrowing. What was he looking to channel? Truth be told, the potential of a new tattoo hadn't really crossed his mind before now, but he had to admit, it was a brilliant idea: before running away he'd always had another ritualist to help out, but ever since he'd escaped he'd been on his own, and tangoing with demons was a dangerous hobby, one that took a lot out of him. If he could pick one thing to improve in his spell casting, what would it be? Finally, after a long pause, he murmured, more to himself than Luce. “Stability. That's what I need. An actual anchor for my power. Ever felt like you're a breath away from casting the perfect spell and then something goes wrong and all that energy you collected just slips away? I can't afford tha- Ouch! Careful, there!” Oh yeah, now he remembered: the part over the bone had been the worse, even when he first got the tattoo. He steadied himself and focused on the conversation again, humor the only coping mechanism he had left while at Luce’s mercy. “Whatever design I come up with, I'm sure you'll be able to fit it into our fabulous dinosaur. No one would look for a power rune there.”

“You know it.” Luce said, flipping him off, the alchemical symbol for fire on full display on her finger. For all he knew, she did other magic, focused in other spells. But, that had never been something she’d wanted. Fire was in her blood and it was all she wanted to study. All energy, all life on Earth depended on fire just as surely as it depended on the other elements. His mention of rituals, they didn’t give much away in the nature of what he did. Everyone did rituals-- the coven did circles and rituals all the time, to strengthen their ties to the earth and to the magic within themselves. But, stability. That was an interesting one. “Hm.” She said with a nod. She’d felt that sensation once before, only once. Messing with creating a fire so hot, so blinding, that it barely felt like the flames that she was so used to controlling. In that moment, power beyond her imagination was within her grasp. Only for it to slid away. At his protests, Luce laughed, “Don’t be a child.” She said, but used a gentler hand as she tattooed over his hip. Steady hand, steady pokes.“Mm, of course. I could work it into the scales of the dinosaur, or maybe even into the monocle on his eye. He’s got to have a monocle.”

“Easy to say when you're not the one being poked to death,” Darwin mumbled, slowly raising the hand on the opposite side of his tattoo to flip her off. Normally he'd never resort to such crude gestures, but he'd learned to adapt to the person -or creature- in front of him, mimicking their habits in order to better anticipate their movements, their attacks, their plans. Also, he was in pain, he was allowed a slip in style. Despite his protests, he stilled himself, doing his best to suppress every small shiver and tremor and, more importantly, every chuckle: flipping someone off was one thing, but going into a giggling fit would wreck his reputation as well as his tattoo, and he definitely hoped to stay in contact with Luce. “Of course he has a monocle, what kind of uncultured swine do you take him for? And I'll name him Bertrand II, after my...” Demonic pet? Too personal, too soon, who knew how she'd take it. “...Familiar.” Hopefully she'd mistake that hesitation for another reaction to the tattooing process, but even then, Darwin realized he wouldn't be able to keep twisting the truth without focusing 100% on the conversation, and her needle was distracting at best. “I refuse to burst into tears on your chair, so... How about some music? To take my mind off the damned buzzing? I'll take anything, as long as it's loud and I can sing along. Yes, I sing, feel free to swoon.”

“You say that like I haven’t sat in that chair for hours myself.” Luce snorted, gesturing to her elaborate sleeve tattoos. He didn’t need to know about all her other tattoos-- those were reserved for the lovely ladies she took to bed. “You can talk to me about being poked to death when you get a rib tattoo or three.” She said. A hawk and a peacock, for Nell and Bea. Though they wouldn’t know that. No, they just thought the matching tattoos across the sternum was all she had for them. The pause in his voice didn’t go unnoticed and Luce arched her eyebrow as she continued to trace the linework. “Your familiar, huh? I’m sure he’ll be touched by it.” Iggy new that she wouldn’t ever be getting a tattoo of him, that was for damn certain. “Gonna cry? This is so sad, Alexa, play Despacito.” She said, leaning back in her chair as the little gadget lit up and the musical stylings of not the Justin Beiber version filled the air. With a grin, she set back to work, humming quietly to herself as she drew. Darwin, huh? Just what kind of spellcaster was he? She supposed she’d just have to find out another time.

#p: ti #p: darwin asrani #//this was so much fun to write #wickedswriting

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texastheband · 4 years ago

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Super Shar

Interview by Simon Gage, Photography by Wayne Maser Taken from Marie Claire UK - December 2001

She's one of the most successful women in British music, but Sharleen Spiteri refuses to let fame go to her head. And she doesn't mince her words about people who do. Here, the Texas singer gives Simon Gage the lowdown on babies, relationships and having Madonna and Guy round for tea. Photographs by Wayne Maser.

'And you need white wine vinegar, which is weird, but it's the secret ingredient,' says Sharleen Spiteri as she jams another slice of toast into her mouth and peers through the steam from a mug of tea big enough to soak your feet in. She's sitting in the television room of the huge house near London's Regent's Park she shares with her boyfriend, Ashley Heath, editorial director of The Face, explaining a pavlova recipe. (She doesn't mention she is making it for Tom Ford, designer for Gucci and Yves Saint Laurent.) The dustbins outside are full of carrier bags from Alexander McQueen - an old mate of hers from way back - and the kitchen is big enough to drive a Jeep around, but it's a homely home, not a stupidly luxurious swank pad. Although goodness knows, it could be. The house is fairly new to Sharleen - bought with the cash she's earned since Texas's resurrection with the White On Blonde album in 1997 made her a multi-millionaire - but it already looks lived in, with books and candles everywhere, a huge Aga and comfy settees. Her mum and dad are down from Glasgow to help her redecorate. Obviously, she could afford to employ a team of painters - she is one of the wealthiest women in the UK, with recent rich lists placing her higher than Posh but she sees this as a nice way of spending more time with her parents. 'And I get a lot of satisfaction from it.' she adds. 'We've been taking thousands of books off the shelves so we can paint. It's one of those jobs where you end up going, "Why the fuck did I start this?", but they're all back now and it looks fantastic.' Sharleen, 33, may be one of the most successful women in British music -the Greatest Hits album is six times platinum and counting but she is not going to let that stop her getting on with painting her shelves and sloping into cafes for junk food. She may have no time for the Mariah Careys of this world - they fell out last year - but to the women in the second-hand clothes shop we stop off at in Camden on our way to Marks & Spencer for bread, Sharleen's probably the nicest customer they'll have all day. The thing with Sharleen is she doesn't do the superstar thing and has a great talent for not being spotted. It's not like she's in disguise or anything - her hair is tied in a makeshift knot, she's wearing 'great label, but low-impact' clothes and she keeps her head up, talking non-stop in her recognisable Glasgow drawl. She even gives me a body-popping run-through of a Missy Elliott video in the middle of a road without anyone batting an eyelid, then goes on to say how shocked she was when a paparazzo tried to take a picture of her nipping out for milk. Shocked not in a 'How dare you?' way, but in a 'Why would you?' way. But that's Shar all over. She still doesn't quite get what all the fuss is about.

So we hear you're about to take two years off. SS: So people keep telling me. I'm not rushing to do the next record. I think people need a little break and so do I. Johnny [McElhone] and I are still writing [songs], but sometimes it's difficult to know where you want to go musically so we had to take a break. Two years is ample time to have a baby. I knew you were going to say that. Even my friends are phoning up and saying, 'Do you want to come to this party?' and if I go no, they ask, 'Are you pregnant?' and I'm like, 'Piss off!' If it happens, it happens. Hell, I ain't getting any younger. You're doing alright, aren't you? Is there anything you still want and can't have? No. I don't think having something you want has got anything to do with being a millionaire [laughs], but you can say that when you're loaded. I've never been happier. I can come and go, see my mates, have them round to the house and just have a laugh. Did you always dream of being a popstar? I never dreamed of being a popstar What defines a popstar? Someone who sings for a living and everyone screams at them. What defines a musician? Someone who does that but no one screams. So, what am I? You're a popstar. Yeah, but am I the same as people like Hear'say? I don't have a group of producers and writers who are writing songs for me and getting records ready so I can walk in and do my vocal. I don't sell newspapers, I sell records. Those popstars who sell newspapers don't sell albums.

Now you've made it, do things still impress you? Like when Alan Rickman phones to say he wants to be in your video? It's funny because [since the In Demand video], women come up to me and go,'Oh, what is Alan Rickman like?' He's lovely, we're mates. There's no bullshit to him. When we were doing the video, he told me he was up for a part in Harry Potter and I was like, 'Oh, my God! I love Harry Potter' When he got it, he phoned and said, 'Do you want to come down to the set?' I was like, 'You're damn right I do.' I took my niece and two nephews. It was so cool. You were supposed to be in Moulin Rouge, weren't you? What part? The Nicole Kidman part, but it would have meant spending a year filming in Australia. Now it's released, don't you think, 'That could have been me'? No. When I say no, it's no. I didn't ever see me doing that part. I was doing The Hush [Texas's fifth album] and that was more important than doing a movie.

What about when Madonna phones to ask you to dinner, does that impress you? My first meeting was at her house, so it's different from being in a popstar environment. It's pretty funny walking in the door and she's like, 'Hi, I'm Madonna.' You're a bit like, 'Yeah, I know that.' But isn't she just like all those popstars with the producers and the writers standing by? I honestly think she takes the music thing very seriously. We played with her and that wasn't a show where you just walk on and go, 'Let's see what happens.' It was very slick. Were you scared of her? Absolutely not. She's very bright - you don't get that amount of success without being bright. And what is Guy Ritchie like? Guy's nice. He's very real. But he gets criticised for being fake. Everyone reinvents themselves. It's bullshit when people go, 'That's not your background and you can't act like that.' I couldn't care less where Guy comes from. You're either nice or you're not. I don't need your family history to be in your company. Have they been to your house yet? No. It's just a case of getting it together. How would you be able to relax? Why wouldn't you? I don't understand. 'Oh my God, Madonna's coming round, I'll have to get the house repainted.' For fuck's sake. The night we went over, it was me, Stella [McCartney], Ash [Ashley Heath], Guy, Madonna, Guy's dad and his wife, and it was dead relaxed, like any dinner.

‘I don’t do cleavage, Cleavage is overrated’ - Sharleen

Did you see Madonna in concert? No. I was really busy. Was she upset? I'm sure she couldn't have given a flying fuck. So if you're not worried about meeting Madonna, what do you worry about? I'm really worried about my niece, because she's being bullied at school. I get angry more than I worry. I'm really bad at biting my tongue. I've seen people's jaws drop in a 'I can't believe she just said that' way. So you don't dream of having a body like Geri? Everyone would like it, but I wouldn't want to do the work. I couldn't bear having to think about it every time I want to eat. That's not living. I think she looks like a very ill girl. I'm just like, 'Get over it.' Would you ever do the bikini thing for a magazine? I don't need to. Some people might find the need to have a photo of them retouched, but I can't think of anything worse than going home after your boyfriend sees you on a magazine cover with your arse up to here and tits ping, ping, and then you go in and it's reality, gravity. Don't get me wrong, I really care that it's a nice picture. If I go into a studio and there's a stylist going, 'We really think...', I'm like, 'No, this is what I'm wearing because this is the way I look.' You have a big female following, don't you? A woman liking me is the biggest compliment you can pay me. After the Elvis video, so many women said, 'Well done, you're so brave.' Why brave? Because it wasn't you in a sexy little dress. I'm so bored with tits and arse. Did you know you were above Kylie and Madonna as the act most requested at Gay Pride this year? I couldn't believe it. I was like, 'Bring it on, the queen has got her crown back.' You've got a big lesbian following. Have you ever been tempted? No. I love women, but I don't fancy them. I look at women and think, 'Man, she's gorgeous.' I'd like to look like Angelina Jolie. I think she's so sexy. I love her big lips and her kooky character, and I find her madness appealing. I don't think she acts it. How does your boyfriend cope with you being a superstar? A lot of men would find that hard. Ashley's not that type. He's a very confident person, always has been. That's what attracted me to him.

When I walk into the East London photo studio about a week later, the first voice I hear is Sharleen's. She's in the middle of telling the team of internationally celebrated photographers, stylists and make-up artists some off-colour stories. The photographer reckons he doesn't know Texas's music, so someone puts on the Greatest Hits, to which Sharleen lip-syncs like a drag queen, throwing in some comedy Mariah Carey moves. As she changes from her white T-shirt into a variety of top-drawer designer togs, most of which she's brought along herself, the only thing that stays the same is her attitude. Halfway through doing a glamorous shot laid out on the floor, she asks if we can see her balls up her skirt, then she comes out in a top with a plunging neckline, pulling the sides together because, 'I don't do cleavage. Cleavage is over-rated.' Are you still big mates with Chris Evans? SS: I haven't spoken to him since he got married, but I really believe that he and Billie are in love. I met her at a funeral with Chris. Everyone is going on about Billie and Chris and you think, 'OK, so Chris has fallen in love again,' because Chris does that. When I met him with Billie, I thought, 'Oh, this is different.' I don't know her, but she was very relaxed in his company, and he was in hers, and I don't see Chris like that very much. I thought she was a really nice girl. I was quite taken aback. But you forget how young she is. What age is she? Nineteen. I never knew she was that Young. Age makes no difference to me. At that age, I was writing I Don't Want A Lover. I still stand by the lyric. Did you go to Madonna's wedding? No. There were only 60 people invited. If Madonna had invited me to her wedding, I would have wondered why. She's only known me a year. Are you going to invite her to your wedding? Who says I'm getting married? [Laughing] That was the cheesiest way of asking me I've ever heard. So ... ? Probably... I don't know how you decide. I always find it horrible when people talk about it. You're big on monogamy, aren't you? I'm a romantic. I think I'm a realist, to be honest with you. Is monogamy a big deal to me? Fuck, yes. If it lasts a week or lasts the rest of your life. So you won't put up with any running around? No. That's like [split sound] material. It's not good. Would you end it even for a minor indiscretion? Yeah. Why would you have a boyfriend? You might as well just be shagging people. Don't you ever fancy a meaningless shag? No. A shag is the ultimate closeness you can get to me, mentally and physically. When I'm having sex, that's completely me. It has to be really special. That's the way I am. You don't think there are different sorts of sex? You're talking like a man; 'I shagged her and it didn't mean anything.' How do you know it didn't to the other person? I think there are lots of girls who kid on that they don't care, but I don't believe women are like that. But I'm not interested in other people's sex lives. I love having a laugh and a great conversation, but you've seen me with my girlfriends and we're like, 'You dirty devil' and laugh like other women. We talk about sex, but not our sex lives. It's an urban myth that women talk about what they do in bed. So what are your thoughts on Posh? Every time I've met Victoria, she's been a sweetheart. Everyone goes on about her, but you still pick up the paper to see what she's up to. She seems pretty normal. Well, not in the sense that I'm normal, but I think she's actually quite normal in her heart.

See the photoshoot: here Read the scans: here Text originally posted on texasindemand.com

#article #greatesthits #marie claire #marieclaire #Wayne Maser #WayneMaser #sharleenspiteri #sharleen spiteri

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yourdreamscenarios · 5 years ago

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When you get into an accident while they’re on tour I part one

∙ Request ♡ ∙ Word count: 3,865

∙ Jin

“Alright, one more set. We’re almost there.” Namjoon screamed, his voice trying to reach over the screaming fans in the background. Hoseok looked up as he gulped down the remains inside of his water bottle and Jungkook blew his cheeks in exhaustion as he wiped his face with the towel someone had given him. It was a hot night, ad even the concert hall felt as if a volcano had bursted inside of it. They had tried to get the problem solved during the day, but it had been impossible to cool this place down more than this. Even though the situation wasn’t ideal, they were trying to make the best out of it. Free water for the audience, extra medical care for those who needed it, and of course their refreshing love to keep their fans hydrated. It was the way he liked to think of things, because negativity wasn’t getting them anywhere. They’d almost made it through, and hopefully the next venue would allow them to perform in a better state. “I need a beer after this, with ice.” Yoongi muttered from somewhere behind him, causing him to chuckle slightly and the fan to wobble inside of his hands. They had seen worst days, so no one was complaining. But as the tour was coming to an end, he could see the exhaustion written on his members faces, no matter how hard they were trying to hide it.

A few words were exchanged, some last remarks on improvements. Someone stopped in front of him to retouch his make up, a small brush tickling against his lips. Another crew member came from his left, and he was ready to take whatever he had to give. He opened his hand, thinking he would be able to accept a water bottle. He tried to hide his surprise as the man stepped closer to him and ignored his outstretched hand. He would have liked some water though. “We got a call, something happened with ______________.” The staff member remarked close to his ear, so that there weren’t too many people who could overhear the conversation. His members were sending him curious glances but didn’t interrupt. Seokjin frowned, and looked at the man in front of him. He hadn’t seen him before and he wasn’t sure if he was a part security or something else. He couldn’t make anything out from the uniform he was wearing. He always tried his hardest to remember the names of their crew members, but he seemed to have missed this one. “What do you mean?” He asked, not really knowing what he should make from this.

What did he mean something had happened to you? Was it good or was it bad? He knew you were graduating any moment now, accepting your degree, you’d told him so last night. He’d been so proud of you, and he’d told you that. You had been a giggling mess, telling him all about the graduating party of today. You’d described your dress to him, told him what you were planning to do with your hair and make up and he had been able to imagine it. You would look beautiful and he hated the fact he wasn’t there to protect you from all the stared the other men would give you. But this was your special day and he refused to ruin it with some stupid jealousy. If he guessed right then he would say that you were on the party right now, having a good time with your fiends. “I got a call from a local hospital, they said she had an insult, someone might have poured something into her drink.” The stranger said, and he couldn’t help but blink his eyes in confusion. Somehow he didn’t understand a single thing of what the man said. You weren’t epileptic, if so he would have known. This was ridiculous. “This is not funny, it’s not a good joke.” Seokjin said, anger ringing inside of his voice and catching the attention of others.

His members moved closer, trying to close the circle around him to block out any stares or intruders. They listened carefully, trying to understand what was going on. The man’s cheeks turned bright red as he looked up at Seokjin, his expression rather ashamed. “I’m sorry, but it’s not a joke. They really called me, told me to deliver the massage. They wouldn’t tell me much over the phone, something about professional secrecy. But they told me she wasn’t doing very well, things were taking a bad turn.” After saying that Seokjin stared at him, opened his mouth to say something, but changed his mind and closed it once more. He had no idea what to say, he couldn’t form any words. The first thing that came to his mind was who on earth would ever do something like that to you? Why would someone want to hurt you? Putting something in someone’s drink was intentional, it was done with a reason. Even though the man was still right in front of him, he seemed to see right through him.

“Let’s sit.” Hoseok said from behind him, and he felt someone support him in order to sit down on one of the chairs. The crowd was still going wild, but the sound seemed to come from far away, as if they were worlds apart. He stared into the distance, not seeing much until Jimin’s face hovered inside of his view. “Are you okay?” He asked, and the question seemed completely irrelevant at this moment. No, of course he wasn’t. The stranger seemed to be explaining everything to the others, and their faces grow horrified as the seconds passed by. They probably all thought the same thing, who would do such thing? He’d pictured you happy, having a blast, celebrating your last day as a student. Instead you were in the hospital and it might not turn out okay. He felt the urge to jump up from his seat and sprint out of the room, get into a taxi and catch the first flight home. But the crowd was still roaring, seven songs were left to play. Eyes were pointing at him, worried looks were exchanged. The question was ringing inside of the air, was he staying or not? Did he have an option? How could he disappoint his fans now?

He couldn’t just leave before the concert was over, otherwise all of their hard work of today would have been for nothing. “Five minutes.” Someone shouted from the back, and Yoongi glared at them. Five minutes seemed nothing, but if he knew that five minutes might be the only time he had left with you they could mean everything. He blinked his eyes, pushing away the tears which were burning inside of his eyes and looked up at his fiends. “Let’s go, we don’t want to be late.” He said, pushing himself up to stand on his quivering legs. He was sure you’d understand why he couldn’t leave now. There were seven more songs to play, and he had to finish them. As soon as he was done he’d call your parents, as soon as he was done he’d do everything he could to help you. He sighed deeply as he aimed for the stairs, several hands patting his shoulder in compassion. He looked up into the blazing light coming from above the stage and could only hope you weren’t seeing the same lights just now.

∙ Suga

He wasn’t sure what exactly had caused his members to burst into the room with frantic looks all over their faces. It might have been the loud curses which were falling from his lips in a fast pace, or the sound of a chair splintering against the wall. “Yoongi, calm down!” Seokjin roared, while someone else circled their arms around him from behind and held him in an iron grip. He fought those arms, even though he knew they meant well, even though he knew they were only there to protect him from himself and causing even more damage to this hotel room. He didn’t even want to know how much he’d have to pay for the chair and the painting on wall which had crashed down onto the floor. Not that he cared, he couldn’t bring himself to care about anything right now. His mind was racing, thoughts tumbling, but he couldn’t make any sense of them. Anger was prickling across the surface of his skin, but underneath their was a feeling he hated most of all. He felt hopeless, powerless, something he never wished to feel. As soon as his body stilled the man who’d held him captive released him and he watched Jungkook appear from behind him. He should have known it was him, no one else would have been able to restrain him but him.

“What happened?” Jimin muttered softly, almost as if afraid his question might cause everything to start all over again. Yet, Yoongi couldn’t find the energy to put up another fight. Sinking down on top of the bed he brushed his hands across of his face. He felt like crying, but the tears wouldn’t come. He knew that he would give into them as soon as his friends left, but for now his cheeks would remain dry. As worry took master of him his heartbeat fastened, the rhythm unsteady and loud inside of his chest. He wished he could pull it out of himself, so he didn’t have to feel the pain it caused him. “Talk to us.” Namjoon said, his supportive hand coming to rest on top of his shoulder and giving him a gentle squeeze. Removing his hands he looked up at his band mates. Their gazes were resting on him, each and every single one looked confused and concerned. It wasn’t the first time he lost his temper and it surely wouldn’t be the last. But it had been a very long time since it had happened like this. He hadn’t broken any furniture for years.

He knew he would feel better once he’d let it all out, once he’d let himself talk about everything that was bothering him. But on the other hand he didn’t want himself to feel better. There was no escaping from this, there was nothing which would make this less worse than it actually was. “____________’s in the hospital.” He mumbled, and as the words rolling over his tongue they didn’t even taste real. Their meaning didn’t seem to sink through inside of his mind, he couldn’t process them. He could hear gasps, worried whispers, as his friends took in the news. The question was written all over their faces, and it would only be a matter of time before someone would dare to ask him. “Why?” Hoseok finally asked, and everyone seemed to relax visibly as soon as the word was hanging inside of the room. It was what everyone was dying to know and what he was dying to forget. He could feel a lump forming inside of his throat, and it made his voice full of emotion the next time he spoke. He had learning long ago that he shouldn’t be embarrassed to show his feelings in front of his friends, yet it was still hard sometimes. “She got into an accident. She got hit by a motorcycle.” He said, and immediately tried to shut down the images which were trying to flow into his head. He couldn’t think of it, refused to believe it.

He’d still called you this morning, asking you about your day as you had asked about his. He had never thought that being on tour would be something hard for him. He’d always loved his job, he’d always enjoyed visiting new places so he could find more inspiration for his music. He’d never expected to have someone at home who he’d be missing every single day he was gone. But here he was. And the thought that you needed him and he couldn’t come to you made him feel as if he was falling apart on the inside. “Was she driving?” Namjoon asked, thinking the situation through with his logical mind. Yoongi could feel his stomach drop at those words, and the answer must have been visible all over his face. He could feel all the color drain from his skin as he shook his head, a feeling of helplessness taking master of him. “She was walking, he scooped her from the road. Her parents called, they say things aren’t looking good.” Jimin clasped his hands in front of his mouth in shock while Namjoon muttered a soft “Jesus”. Hoseok actually looked at the verge of tears as Jungkook stared at him with wide eyes. Seokjin’s mouth had dropped towards his chest in the mean time and Taehyung seemed glued to the floor in shock.

For a moment no one said anything, They all knew nothing could cover this. Yoongi hadn’t gotten much more information himself, so there was nothing else he could tell them. He only knew your situation was critical and that your parents had sounded defeated on the phone. He’d always known your parents as strong and energetic people, and there hadn’t bee anything of that left. “Are you going to see her?” Taehyung asked, and with that question the mood inside of the room seemed to shift again. He could feel his anger rising again, his hands tingling as they formed fists on top of his thighs. Everybody was holding their breaths, and Jungkook seemed about ready to jump on top of him if he decided to attack another piece of furniture. Yet he remained where he was, trying to keep himself under control. “No, the company told me it was best to finish the tour first, so that it won’t cause any problems.” He spoke through gritted teeth, remembering the phone call he had made earlier.

It had been the first thing he’d done, contacting the company to let them know what was going on, asking them to leave early so he could go to see you. There were only a few more days left, he’d expected it not to be an issue. Apparently it was. To him the worst thing wasn’t that you had gotten hurt, it was that he wouldn’t be able to support you during the time you needed him most. It was killing him to know that you were lying in that hospital bed, waiting for him, and he wouldn’t come. “But that’s four days from now!” Jimin shouted, obviously disgusted by the idea that his friends wasn’t allowed to visit his girlfriend. Yoongi closed his eyes and dropped his body on the unmade bed, his back hitting the mattress. His thought wandered to you while he felt his members sitting down all around him, knowing they weren’t going anywhere. But someone that thought didn’t bring him any happiness, not tonight. Because he knew that thousands of miles away, you were in another bed, all alone.

∙ Jimin

“I’m so excited! I’ve heard they have the best coffee in the entire country.” Yoongi said, sounded cheerful as he waited for his friends at the door. Jimin pulled a face, he wasn’t in the mood for coffee right now. What he needed was a cool drink, something which would make the hot weather feel less hot. His clothes seemed to be sticking to him, heat collecting itself underneath his fringe. He hadn’t expected the weather to be like this, if he had he surely would have packed differently. In his black jeans and his t-shirt he felt as if he was melting and mostly of all he simply wanted to stay inside of the cool hotel room. But the tour was coming to an end, only three more days to go and that meant that they had to enjoy the last few moments they had left. They wanted to go out tonight, some quick sight seeing before catching the early plane tomorrow. “Alright, I’m done.” Hoseok spoke from the bathroom, the sound of a toilet flushing audible through the room. His friend dashed out of the room and walked towards them to empower his words. Now they were all done and they could finally take off.

“Let’s go.” Namjoon said, opening the door and stepping out into the hallway. Jimin flinched when he heard his phone blast inside of his pocket, the call taking him by surprise. The others glared at him, not happy because they were held back once more, but he waved them off. “You guys head to the lobby, I’ll be right there.” He assured them, planning on handling this quickly. Jungkook rolled his eyes at his friend but followed the others out of the room. They exciting conversation drifted through the air as they disappeared down the hall. Emerging his phone from his pocket he frowned at the number popping up at his screen. Your mother rarely called him. The one time she had asked for his number was so she could organize a surprise party for your twenty second birthday, but that was the only time she’d ever contacted him. Not knowing exactly how to feel his finger glided across of the screen, accepting the call. “Hello…” He started, holding the phone against his ear. But he was cut off, your mother speaking right through him, panic resounding in her voice. Immediately his own heartbeat fastened, his fingers clinging onto the phone as he snapped his mouth shut and listened to what she had to say.

“_____________’s in the hospital. She was in a hit and run! He was drunk, and he just let her there! He left her all alone! Can you imagine?” The laugh she produced at the end was sarcastic and he could tell she was at the verge of a break down. His fingers started shaking, the walls getting blurry around him as he tried to understand what she just told him. There were a few words which seemed to explode inside of his head. HOSPITAL. HIT AND RUN. DRUNK. ALONE. He stumbled backwards, the back of his calves hitting the bed before he sank down on top of it. It seemed as if he had lost his tongue, he couldn’t produce a single word. Everything inside of his head was one big mess as he thought of all the things he wanted to know. “She’s not doing well Jimin. They’ve been operating for a long time now, I’m sorry I didn’t call you earlier but… I don’t know what happened. I just shut down I guess. But my baby girl, god I don’t know if she’s going to make it.” She started crying, and he cried along with her. His eyes filled themselves with tears, hot emotions spilling from them as he brushed his hand through his hair.

He tried not to think of you sitting all alone in your car, hurt and in pain, while the one person who could have helped you drove away from you and left you all by yourself. Anger flared inside of him, taking possession of him, yet it died out just as fast. He couldn’t bring himself to be angry, not when the fright was taking in a much bigger place. “I-I’ll come…I’ll take the first plane…I…” He stumbled, tried to find the right words, but couldn’t seem to get a grip on them. His eyes darted through the room, trying to find his suitcase, knowing that he had to pack and he had to get out of here. He wouldn’t be able to function knowing what had happened to you. The thought of not being by your side through all of this made him want to vomit. His breathing picked up as he stumbled through the room, falling on his knees in front of his still open suitcase. He never fully unpacked, what was the use? They’d have to leave again in a few days anyway? His view was glassy as he began to throw everything he could reach in there, he couldn’t care less about the mess. “No, she would have wanted you to finish.” Your mother told him, causing his movements to still. He opened his mouth to protest, but found himself a loss for words once more.

How could he explain to her that he could impossibly finish the tour? He couldn’t go on knowing what had happened, pretending as if everything was fine. It felt like he was betraying you, and he would never. “She wouldn’t want you to throw this away from her. You know how much she cares Jimin.” Your mother continued, and his mouth became dry. He did know. The two of you had been counting down the days together, talking about all the stories he’d be able to tell you when he got home. No matter how hard it was for you to watch him go, you had always been positive about him being on tour, seeing the world, meeting new people. You always told him to live life to the fullest, to make the most beautiful thing out of every experience. He knew you wouldn’t have wanted him to quiet, not now. But how could he possibly stay here, so far away from where you were while you needed him? “I’ll call you when something happens. It’s only three more days, it’ll be over before you know it. There’s nothing for you to do here, we can’t even enter her room before the doctor gives us permission to do so. You’d only drive yourself mad.” She said, and he knew she was right.

The thought of sitting inside of the hospital, waiting and not knowing anything was enough to know that he would eat himself alive. But being here wasn’t much better. His butt hit the floor as he rested his face inside of his free hand, letting the tears fall. What could he do? It felt as if every single nerve inside of his body was in pain, as if his heart was contracting inside of his chest every time he thought of you. “What If…” He started, but he couldn’t say it. He couldn’t get the words out without choking on them. What if three days was too long? What if it would be too late? He would never forgive himself, he wouldn’t be able to live with himself. Yet, this time around your mother sounded fierce on the other side of the phone. “She’s the strongest girl that I know, she’ll get through this.” She convinced him and Jimin nodded, even though she couldn’t see him. He knew you were strong, he’d never doubted that. But a human body could only handle as much. Not everyone had a choice, and he was aware of that. What if they would take you from him? What if he would return in three days and you wouldn’t be there? He stared at the half filled suitcase in front of him without seeing anything. If it would mean that much to you he would stay here to make the world happy, while his world was slowly crashing down.

∙ Part two ∙ BTS Masterlist ♡ ∙ Masterlist ♡

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treasure-my-aurora · 5 years ago

Text

One More Night. Pt 9

Pairing: Kim Hongjoong / fem!Reader

Chapter: 9/14

Genre: Mutual pining, canon compliant, fluffy af, angsty af, suggestive, teasing and filled with that good shit that everyone loves

Words in this chapter: 6520

Out of all the songs on the new album, Aurora was my favourite. Not because I was biased since Hongjoong had poured his heart and soul, tears and sleepless nights into it. Perfecting it, over and over and over again until he was happy with the result… Well ok, maybe that was the main reason why. But the other reason was simple. It was a song for his first love; Atiny. The fans that sometimes travelled across the world to watch and cheer on the boys. Supporting them through thick and thin, even though they didn’t know them personally. It fascinated me. The amount of love and respect they had was out of this world. There was some bad eggs in the bunch, obviously, which fandom didn’t have its share of toxic people? But Aurora was for the real ones, the loyal ones. It was a Wednesday morning, the day after their comeback. The Seoul weather was mild, comfortable, cloudy but not on the verge of rain and the whole day was dedicated to filming. Me and Hongjoong had discussed his main outfit previously and I only nodded approvingly when I picked the boys up in a company owned van at their dorm just as the sun went up. “I’m impressed” I said, and he winked at me while taking his usual place just behind me, “What can I say, my artistic talent and your eye for design. Boom” He placed his chin in his open hands in a ‘flowering pose’ and San snorted out a chuckle underneath his breath while Seonghwa looked at him with a wrinkle between his brows, repelled by the action with an expression only he could pull off. The first location was a bridge over the Han river and the boys were immediately sent to make-up, before they were ready to record the ‘looking emotionally into the distance so that Atiny can swoon over our visuals’ part. Hongjoong and Wooyoung stood as number three on the list and the younger of the two sprint away to latch himself on San’s side as soon as they were finished, telling him in a singly voice that he looked so good with his cool clothes, expressing the most impressive aegyo I’d seen all week and I chuckled slightly when San gave him a look of confusion, puzzled by the action but loving the attention, sticking out his tongue at him teasingly. “How do you feel?” Hongjoong reached out to touch my arm in an innocent and friendly gesture, wary of the amount of people around us, both from the company and complete strangers who just happened to walk by on the bridge. “I’m fine?” I answered, thoughtful as I met his cautious eyes, but it sounded more like a question and he took a step closer to me, whispering. “You don’t regret yesterday?” He asked and I furrowed my eyebrows, “No, why would I” “I dunno. I just hoped that the enticement between us hasn't changed now when you’d gotten a taste of me” He shrugged, a bit unsure and I shook my head, sad that he was feeling so insecure about himself, “I’m glad… sorry that I act weird” He frowned, “I didn’t sleep well last night, kept dreaming about you. That you changed your mind after our kiss, telling me that you hated me, quitting the company and that I never saw you again… I kept waking up, reaching out and expecting you to be there. But you weren’t… and the feeling was so real that I feared you’d never show up this morning” I fought to keep my face natural but after him dropping a bomb like that, but it was hard, and I clenched my jaw as I fought the need to reach out for him. To hold him tight and kiss him until the feeling of dread in his chest would go away completely. I reached out to fix his clothes instead, aligning the collars of both shirts and pulling on his necklace softly to drop it down lower on his chest, simply to make it an excuse to touch him and his breath hitched softly when he felt my touch, as if he expected not to feel anything at all, “I’m not going anywhere. I wish that we’d be alone at this moment so that I could show you how much I mean it” I said, my gaze fixated on the leaf shaped pendant in my hands and he placed his hands in his pockets to prevent himself from reaching out towards me, like he’d do if we’d be alone. We sighed at the same time, deep and mellow and I refused to meet his longing eyes and the sweet smile I saw in my peripheral, not knowing what I’d do if I did. .. I watched him an hour later when he read the script for the day, the schedule, the routine, what times we were going to eat, the new locations etc. talking to the camera that would follow them throughout the day, a female director, (not the one from the other day at the ‘Dazed’ photoshoot, thankfully) was filming and I sighed happily when Hongjoong nodded and smiled with approval, bright and amazingly beautiful, talking about the process behind his reformed shirt before San came to join him and the subject changed to the 'Power Rangers' in a heartbeat, flowing in a way that a conversation could only move forward when you really knew each other. They did the choreo for the song, wrapped it up nicely and then we headed off into the forest for the second location. Everything was already set up with some tech guys there preparing and working the camera angles and my eyes widened to the beautiful setting. A green large meadow opened up in the foliage and the whole group, both staff and members held their breaths when Hongjoong paused, pursed his lips to think for a moment before he nodded with a content smile and everyone went back to their business. “I’d love to go to spend a day in a place like this with you” He whispered a few minutes later, standing close enough for only me to hear but still far enough away to not draw too much attention to us, “Why?” I asked, knowing that he didn’t enjoy sharing his space with creatures that had more than four legs for any longer amount of time than necessary. “We’d be all alone, we could do anything we wanted, maybe even spend the night and watch the stars, nothing else on our minds than each other. No one would bother us. Trying to separate us. No one would care, because they wouldn’t know” My heart flipped happily in my chest, cheeks flushed pink from the wonderful picture he painted, and he winked at me when he was called over to get a small retouch before they started filming again. .. “Is it supposed to be like this” Hongjoong asked as I buttoned up his clothes a few hours later. We stood away from the others, in a portable changing room that the staff had raised up before our arrival. It was a tight squeeze with only one square meter to move on, but we didn’t mind, revelled in the fact that we could stand closer than we’d been able to do all morning. “Yeah, you all wear basically the same clothes… you don’t like it?” I asked and bit my lip, unsure if I’d taken the right direction, actually questioned myself if I knew him well enough for the first time in months, since it had been my final decision that made the hammer hit the gavel when it came to the style that’d been picked. “No, I love it. It’s perfect for the vibe I wanted. It’s just so…” He raised his arms over his head as I sighed with relief, and if it wouldn’t be for the white shirt underneath, his whole chest would be showing, “Sexy?” before giving me an unsure smile and I nodded, a smug expression on my face, “I know, I wanted to give Atiny a treat” I said while shrugging and he blinked fast, as if he couldn’t believe what I was saying, “You’re willing to share me just like that?” He asked, trying to sound serious and a bit hurt but I heard on his tone that he was only teasing me, so I scrunch my nose at him while doing the finishing touches, “Yes, I am… but only as long as you share my bed, and no one else’s” “Wouldn’t dream of it baby” He said and gently cupped my face and my breath hitched with surprise as he pressed his lips on mine in a sweet peck, only brushing against them really, to make it as silent as he could to avert suspicion but it still made my heart race. He kept the position, even after his lips left mine with his hands on my face, longer than necessary, just watching me. Like he never wanted to part from my side, like every moment away from me hurt his soul. Or at least I hoped it was the case, because that’s what I felt. “I’m glad you’re here with me. You’re a part of this, of Aurora as well” He said and I looked away, flustered as he placed me on the pedestal I’d reserved for him, “You know…” his hands traced down to lock around my waist instead, “Atiny is my aurora, but you…” He swallowed and pressed a gentle kiss on my forehead and the knot in my stomach when he talked to me like he did right now, twisted and turned and I gulped when he kissed the same place again, stalling a little, “You… you are my light… and while the aurora makes its appearance sometimes, and it’s intense and breathtakingly beautiful... you… you’re my stars. So bright, especially when I'm with you and always there, in my sky, even if I can’t see you. Always showing me the path in my darkness, as soon as the aurora goes away” - 20th of June and tears streamed down my face when the host shouted out Ateez. Hongjoong made eye contact with me for a split second where he knew I stood, at his right a few meters away from the stage together with some more staff and I smiled through the tears, clapping my hands happily as they received the trophy for their first win. .. Hours later and we sat on the sofa at the boys’ dorm. Still in disbelief of what had happened that evening. They had done a vlive as soon as they got back to the company, thanking the staff, friends and family but we still didn’t seem to realize what had happened. I’d offered to take them home when it was time, subsequently writing myself up as responsible to get them back to the company the following morning. It was late, the clock was nearing midnight and I knew that I should go back home and sleep but had a hard time separating myself from Hongjoong’s side as we mindlessly watched a programme on TV, cuddling with the air conditioner like a white noise in the background. San and Wooyoung sat there as well, but at the other end of the sofa, huddled together almost as close as us and the thought of them having something special between themselves, something similar to what Hongjoong and I had crossed my mind, like it had done so many times before. They were focused on their phones, scrolling down on twitter and fan cafés, giggling and showing each other posts about the evening's event and I glanced over at them with a smile before I looked at the clock that rested heavily on my wrist and the smile that’d lingered faltered as I sighed, letting go off Hongjoong’s hand and he looked up on me with surprised eyes as I stood up and stretched. “Don’t go” He said, halfway between a plea and an order while he reached out his hand towards me again and I paused, a sad smile tensed my jaw, and I furrowed my brows at his longing eyes, a pout on his lips and feet resting on the floor, ready to run after me if I walked away. “I have to, I need to be up early to make sure that you’re all up and ready in time for tomorrow's schedule” I said and bit my lower lip, already dreading the coldness of my home, even if it was the middle of summer. “Then stay?” He suggested and stood up as well, taking one hand in his and placing the other on my lower back. I could feel the boys’ eyes on us, silently watching, and I looked over at them just as San reached for the popcorn on the table, like he got ready to watch an epic drama. I gave him a short, disapproving look but he only stuck out his tongue before stuffing his mouth full, some of the popcorn fell back and Wooyoung looked from him to the bowl, a wrinkle between his brows before he looked away again, a mix between disgust and amusement on his face as he shook his head, too used to San’s proneness of being a sloppy eater. I sighed and focused my gaze on mine and Hongjoong’s clasped hands instead, fighting off the feeling to melt into the touch of his hand against my back. He was so comfortingly warm against me, and the familiarity of his body made me sigh. A silent war of logical reasoning tried to fight some sort of sense into my head… but my feelings for him, my need to keep him close, made my mind go dangerously blank. My brain kept pushing on the fact that I should go home. Deal with the accessories that needed to be mended, go over the schedule for tomorrow again, just to be sure and fully prepared but it was a war that were lost within seconds as the recklessness of my heart won. “Ok” I said, still a bit hesitant but Hongjoong smiled bright, nose scrunching before he softly cupped my face and pressed his lips against mine, happily kissing me and taking my breath away. My heart skipped as I immediately melted to putty into his touch, closing my arms around his midriff, my eyelids fluttering shut and the feeling of him pressing up to me, flushing his body against mine hard, arching my back slightly in his hunger for me made my breath hitch, still not used to this new development in intimacy, even though it’s been a few days and I quickly realized that I wasn’t the only one when a loud scream erupted from the sofa. “Are you two fucking kidding me, when did this happen?” Wooyoung asked, his eyes wide as saucers and it looked like he was ready to jump out of his own skin from excitement. “A few days ago” Hongjoong said after breaking the kiss and looked at me with eyes so full of love that I had to break our gaze, getting almost shy from the intensity he showered me with. San had been quiet so far and I watched nervously when he nodded to everything that just happened, stood up and walked up to us with slow but determined steps, his face neutral and I braced myself as Hongjoong let me go. But the fist that I had counted on, was an open hand, pressed onto Hongjoong’s back as San placed his arms around him in a bear hug, lifting him off the ground slightly and I could hear a hushed, “Congratulations… you better treat her right” Being whispered before they let each other go and Hongjoong nodded, and held out his pinky to wrap around San’s, a promise I knew he’d keep silently being uttered between them. The feud finally settled after months of slow but steady healing and I wet my lips, feeling how my heart swelled as they gave each other a big smile. My eyes flicked to the TV, the programme we’d watched had ended and I stifled a yawn behind my hand, suddenly feeling how tired I really was. Hongjoong gave me a smile, placed his hand on my back again and didn’t have to ask to know that it was time for bed. We said goodnight before he led me to the room he shared with Seonghwa, who was seated in his bed at the right and looked up from the game he was playing, eye brows raised with curiosity as his eyes flicked between us to out laced fingers and he sighed, took out his headphones, unplugged his charger, grabbed his pillow and said with an impressively calm voice, “If you fuck on my bed, I’ll rip your spine out of your mouth” “Noted” Hongjoong answered with a smirk and closed and locked the bedroom door after his hyung before he went over to his wardrobe and pulled out a washed-out tee, which he handled to me. “I have clothes with me, Joongie” I said, talking about my usual prepared bag of a change of clothes and hygiene articles but he smiled sweetly, “Yeah, for tomorrow… but you do you. I’d prefer it if you slept naked too” He made a motion as if he was going to put it back and I quickly held out my hand, and he gave me the shirt, snickering slightly under his breath to my sudden resolution. I grabbed the hem of my shirt, expecting him to turn around but he didn’t, and I cocked my head to the side, my eyebrows rising but he stood his ground. “Hey, I’m just as curious as you” He said and I could feel my cheeks burn as I rolled my eyes and turned around instead, pulled my shirt over my head and bit my lip as he let out a soft gasp which turned into a whiny exhale as I unhooked my bra as well, let my clothes fall to the floor and fought the need to cover up as a soft breeze from the small open window at my right made my skin prickle and nipples harden. “You’re beautiful. You know, that right?” He asked and I quickly cupped my boobs anyway when he took two steps towards me, reached out and left ripples across my skin where his fingertips softly caressed down my right shoulder, followed the line of my spine until both hands rested comfortably around my waist and he flushed his chest against my back. I swallowed hard and he placed a butterfly light kiss on the nape of my neck, making me shudder and the hair in my neck stand up. His left hand gently stroked up my side, between my boobs, over my breastbone to my throat and he tilted my head back, to rest on his shoulder, fingers pressing against the skin under my chin and a surprised gasp escaped my lips from his controlling behaviour. The kisses continued over my neck and he nibbled gently on the sensitive flesh over the big artery there, my pulse picking up right next to it and he cursed under his breath, softly bucking his hips into my ass and I gulped, my heart skipped a beat and my stomach did somersaults when I felt his cock prodding against me through his sweats. “You can feel what you’re doing to me, huh? How much you’re turning me on?” He gasped, slightly out of breath as he inhaled sharply, like he’d held it as he touched me, but I couldn’t answer, my voice lost to the feeling of arousal pooling between my legs. One hand travelled down to stroke over the curve of my ass and I pushed back onto his touch, wantonly. Needing, craving more of him. He nudged me forward slightly, towards his bed, bending me over the mattress and I choked on my breath when he bucked his hips forward, into me again. “Do you trust me?” He asked, so sweet and innocent, like his cock wasn’t pressed between my asscheeks that I swallowed nervously and choked forth a small, “I do” Before his hands were on me again, sweetly gripping my waist, hooked his fingers under the lining of my gym shorts before pulling them off and I felt exposed when I stepped out of them, dressed in only my panties now and with my ass in the air. Hongjoongs eager hands touching me, fingers slipping into the lining of my underwear as if he wanted to pull them off as well but stopped himself from doing so, flushing his chest against me again instead, placed kisses over my naked back and I shuddered against him, letting go of my boobs as I didn’t need to shield them from his eyes anymore when he pushed me down harder, almost sandwiched me between him and the bed and I panted against his sheets, sharply inhaling the mixed smell of him and washing detergent and my mind clouded over as his fingers brushed over my clothed cunt with butterfly light touches. “God, babe. You’re dripping wet” He moaned and I whined out something incoherent, too far gone within my own lust to make any sense, “I need you, need something, please” He begged, respecting the boundaries that I’d set up but still in need of the release that had begun to hurt us both. “Fuck my thighs” I choked out, and Hongjoong paused, unsure if he’d heard correct, my sudden forwardness surprised him and I tried to make a point as I raised myself up slightly and pushed my thighs back against him, making him slip between my them slightly and a growl erupted from his lips as he took control again. My heart hammered hard in my ears as I heard how the fabric of his clothes rustled when they hit the floor and I buried my face in my arms, refusing to get a glimpse of his naked body and spoil myself of the sweet surprise. He spit in his hand and the slick sound of him as he closed his hand over his cock, a low moan escaped his lips between hard panting, had my legs quivering and I inhaled sharply, feeling how my eyes rolled back when he separated my thighs with a gentle hand, fingertips wet from saliva and pre-cum and my breath hitched when he brushed against my cunt again, his deep loud groan made me clench around nothing and I swallowed hard as he spread our fluids between my thighs. “Are you sure?” He asked again and I could only nod, gasping as I finally felt his unclothed cock burry between my slick thighs, pushing them apart slightly from the size. I’d been dreaming about this for months now, fantasizing about how he would feel against my body, completely naked, the girth of his cock, the length, based only on what I’d felt when he woke up, pressed against me, softly dry humping my leg or the contour of it in his tight pants when he got a boner as I dressed him. Nothing could prepare me for the real deal though and I cried softly into his sheets as he reached forward to lace our hands together, his cock sliding in and out between my thighs hard and fast and my eyes rolled back as I clenched around nothing again, imagining how good it would feel when he would finally be inside me, stretching and filling me up completely. “Fuck baby, you feel so good” Hongjoong cried out and nibbled hard on my skin, marking me with red blooming flowers, rutted against me with no plan on stopping and I fell forward slightly from his hard thrusts, landing flat down on my stomach instead, but he didn’t stop. Quite the opposite, and I gasped as he pressed his body weight against me, his hips bouncing off my ass and teasing the lips of my clothed cunt. “Touch yourself baby, I need you to come undone before me” He gasped out, voice throaty and I imagined that his head had fallen back, eyes closed as he revelled in the feeling of us together. I comply without a word, and he lifted himself slightly so that I could slide my arm underneath me and I almost flinched when I felt the movement of his cock pushing in and out between my thighs as I pressed down on my clit, circling around it and Hongjoong moaned when I helplessly clenched my thighs together as pleasure shot through my body. “Do that again” He cried and rested his head against my shoulder, his hot breath made me shudder as I pressed down hard on my clit and clenched my thighs again, gasping as he shuddered against me and I felt that he was close. The thrusting irregular and his breath uneven and I slid my other arm underneath my body as well, to join my already wet fingers, moved my panties to the side to slip two fingers inside me, moaning to the feeling and Hongjoong stopped his movements suddenly, panting hard, “Sorry” He choked out and breathed for a couple of seconds before he began to move again, much, much slower than before, “I don’t want to come just yet” He whispered and pressed a soft kiss against my shoulder blade. I inhaled sharply, supporting my body on my chest and the side of my face as he leaned down, over me to capture my lips, holding the kiss for a few seconds and the moment that had been so hungry for release turned sweet and loving as he placed his hands on my waist, pushing my body back to meet his thrusts. “Come for me baby, and clench hard. I wanna cum on you” He whispered and I cried out softly as I worked my fingers faster, pressed them up against that sweet spot inside of me and he growled, leaned back and began pounding against me, his cock gliding between my pre-cum slicked thighs without restrain, and I bit back a loud moan, imagining how wet and nasty it would finally be when that pre-cum would rest happily between my walls as he slid in and out of me instead. I was on the edge, on the very verge of falling over when Hongjoong leaned down to press a kiss between my shoulder blades, “Fuck, you feel so good against me babe, so warm and wet. I love you… I love you so much” He exhaled, hands gripped my hips harder and his voice so full of affection that I felt tears forming in my eyes as I came over my fingers, gushing the wetness of my cum down the sides of my thighs and a guttural moan escaped his lips as he followed, thighs tensing up as he pressed himself as close as he could against me and the wet feeling of cum spreading over my lower stomach as he came hard, riding out his orgasm with a deep exhale, made me sigh hard and I slumped against him. Warmth spreading through my body. “I love you too” I whispered against the mattress and he pressed a sweet kiss on my cheek. “I know. I’ve known since you began looking at me differently after we got home from Saipan” He said while walking off and I heard rustling from tissue paper and clothes as he cleaned himself up before changing clothes and my heart beat hard in my ears. “How?” I asked and quickly covered my chest as he gently turned me over to lie on my back instead, a soft, “Oh” escaping his lips and I opened my eyes. He’d put on new underwear, just as I’d guessed, but his chest were still naked, and I bit my lips as I watched his post-orgasm face. Eyes hooded and glazed over, sheen sweat on his template and glistened his body, cock still half hard, twitching happily as he looked down on me and the mess he’d created on my stomach and I averted my gaze, cheeks burning from the diabolical fire in his dark eyes. I inadvertently kneaded my boobs in my hands, a bit uncomfortable, feeling bare under his gaze and his head tilted to the side from the sight, hand reached out to touch the wetness between my thighs where I laid, legs rested off the bed and I couldn’t help but clench them together slightly, still too sensitive. He groaned, deeply and closed his eyes. An ongoing war in his mind as he fought the craving to just spread my legs and bury himself in the hot wetness between them. “I can’t, I just…” He sighed, voice cracking and I knew what he meant, feeling the burn of desire working up my body again as well again. “Look away” I said, and he inhaled sharply before he closed his eyes and I scrambled with the shirt he’d given me, pulled it over my head to cover myself up and inhaled deeply, smelling his cologne on the neckline of it. Never wanted the feeling of him around me to stop. Hongjoong surrounded my senses, making me swallow hard as he gripped my thigh harder after opening his eyes again and seeing his shirt on my body. The need to dominate ruled his system and I motioned for him to come closer as I scooted up, placing my head on his pillow instead and he followed, enclosing my body with his as he towered over me on all fours. He sighed, brows wrinkling, and he placed his hand on my cheek as he leaned down to taste my lips again. “I love you, I love you, I love you” He said in a mantra, kissing my lips between the words and I choked as he took my breath away with every press of his lips upon mine. My heart beating hard, and I wet my lips, tasting him and swallowed as he laid down, pressing his body weight on me, softly bucking his hips against my heat and I bit down a moan as I separated my legs further, the soles of my feet on the bed and I could feel my blood boiling as he humped against me, thrusting his once again clothed hard cock against my wetness. “I need to feel you” He choked out and I nodded, closed my legs around his waist and pressed him closer, the tip of his cock pushed against my entrance as he dipped in, the fabric of my panties stopping him from going much further than half a centimetre or so but it was enough to send him into a frenzy. He pushed his hand into his underwear and I bit back a cry as his facial expression fell when he closed his hand around himself, so far gone already that he immediately started to thrust against me again, using his hand for the part that didn’t reached inside me and I slip my hand between us to circle around my clit again. The obscene sound of slick wet skin against each other as we moaned quickly got me drunk and my lips found his again, meeting his tongue halfway as it flicked out to taste me. His appetite out of this world and I groaned when he pushed his body against mine, making me writhe and my head to fall back against the pillow. The stretch from the head of his cock against my burning heat made me blind with wanton need and I thrusted back against him, falling from the edge before I even realized I was standing at it, still sensitive from my previous orgasm and he gasped as my face contorted and I squeezed around him, eyes falling back in my skull and his hand closed around my throat, nibbling at my lower lip possessively, "You're mine baby, just mine" He growled and I took a shaky inhale behind his enclosed fingers, swallowed with some difficulty, “My body, my noona, only mine” He continued, black eyes meeting mine, as he snapped his hips against my body, eyelids heavy and his tongue between his teeth, biting down in concentration. Head tilted to the side and watching me with dark intensity, like he didn't want to miss a thing I was doing. Just as lost in my eyes as I was in his, loving the expression I was doing as my oversensitivity made my body writhe under his, wanting to escape the burn between my legs but loving the feeling of him against me. I placed my hand on his chest, feeling how hard his heart pounded underneath the ribcage and swallowed deep, my heart sang with his and he quickly fell as well, buried his face in the crook of my neck when he did so. Sinking his teeth into the flesh of my skin and I whined with satisfaction when I felt his cum coating the outside of my already wet panties. We breathed together for a few seconds before he sat back up, cursed loudly, jumped up and basically threw tissue paper at me. “What are you doing?” I asked, sat up to lean on my elbows, feeling drunkenly sleepy from our session and he walked on wobbly knees, pressing the tissues into my hand. “I almost came in you, clean up, hurry” He said, voice panicky and I looked at his stressed out expression for a few seconds before my clouded mind realized what he was talking about and I fell back on the bed again, rubbed my eyes and a small giggle fell from my lips, “Stop laughing, this is serious. I’m not ready to be a dad at all” He cried out and slipped his fingers underneath the lining on my panties, but I stopped him quickly and waved a hand in front of me to try and calm him down. “I’m on the pill, darling. It’s fine. You’re not gonna be a dad and even though I wouldn’t be on birth control. I’d take the measurements needed to not get pregnant before this would’ve happened. Some tissue paper is not going to stop any sperm to keep on swimming” I said, and his face changed from worry and concern to hurt and confusion. “What do you mean you’re on the pill?” He asked and sat down on the bed next to my resting body, pouting and I realized that he must think that I slept with others as well since the first sexual thing we’d done, when we were so close that our bodies touched, happened a little less than two months ago and so far, he hadn’t even been close to cumming near my cunt until well, now. “Don’t misunderstand, darling. You’re the only one for me. I’ve said that so many times, and that’s the truth. I love you” I reassured, “I’ve taken the pill since I started having sex... it’s more than a birth control for me. It’s more than that for many women” I said, and his upset face softened as he pursed his lips at me, puzzled at this new dose of information and I smiled at his sweet unawareness. Still not used to the fact that he was born 98, years after me and in November non the less, technically not even twenty-one yet. Not old enough to drink in many countries and I frowned as a disruptive feeling laid over me like a heavy suffocating blanket. “I’m sorry” I said and sat up, flinching slightly at the feeling of dried up cum on my tummy and he looked at me, his frown mirroring my own as he laced our fingers together, gave my hand a squeeze, sucked on the inside of his cheek and looked up on me from long lashes. “Why?” He asked and I looked away, swallowed hard, and shook my head, embarrassed to speak my mind. “Darling… you’re a leader, a father in all ways but physical, with qualities of someone that knows what they’re doing and sometimes I just fail to remember your age” “Are you calling me naïve?” He asked and coiled back, slightly offended but I shook my head again, “No no, the very opposite. You’re so mature and… I dunno… I just wanna tell you that I’m sorry. Sometimes it feels like I’m…” I trailed off but he still picked up where I left off, “What, like you’re using me?” He asked with a chuckle and I shrugged, a pout on my lips, “I think we can both agree on who’s being used in this situation, noona” He said, a bright smile still tugging on his lips as he went back to using formal honorifics in a heartbeat, more to mock me because of the topic than actually being polite and I sighed at his antics. Knowing fully well in my heart, just as him, that he’d been the one holding the strings, playing with me like a puppet and pushing me further and further towards the edge until I finally fell, unable to stay in my own lane anymore, just as deep into him as he was into me. The both of us welcoming the development of whatever happened between us, as time went on. “You’re still young though” I added softly, “I just…” I sighed and clenched the fist that wasn’t holding Hongjoong’s, “I just don’t want you to regret the decision to be with me. I understand that your job is your life and I feel the same about mine. It’s not something you’d back away from just because you’re in love. It’s your life’s blood and your livelihood and I…” I inhaled sharply and met his eyes again, “I need you to be sure because I won’t be able to handle a no from you. Not after everything we’ve been through. Not after the purgatory we will be forced to go through when this relationship is finally uncovered, be it by media or the company” He nodded and said a simple, “You’re right. I’m not ready to risk anything” and my heart fell in my chest, but he quickly picked it up again when he placed a hand under my chin and forced me to meet his gaze again, “But neither are you. We’re going to go through this, everything that will happen, together. Just like we’d done so far. When I met you, so many months ago, I’d never expect to sit here with you, afterglow clouding my senses and you sitting here in front of me in my cum stained shirt, looking like a wet dream and more gorgeous than I could ever imagine… and I’ve imagined, a lot” I chuckled when he punctuated the last words extra hard, feeling how my heart fluttered at his sweet words as I squeezed his hand in mine.

#kim hongjoong #kim hongjoong smut #kim hongjoong/reader #ateez kim hongjoong #part 9

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connywrites · 5 years ago

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of flesh and blood 23

start - part [22]

I'll share a story I want you to know It's better than the real thing I took my time retouching myself To enhance my personality There's no need to dig any further I've laid it all out, it's clear And everything you feel down inside your chest Completely fills you up like a real, real, real

Connection It's not that typical We're connecting But it's all in digital

I just need this so much I thought I was in love With you, and me I thought this was my destiny And then the trail went cold I looked everywhere But were you ever really there? I thought we had a real, real, real

Connection It's not that typical We're connecting But it's all in digital

Its voice echoed in his head with the way it spoke ohs and hms while it acted with more innocence than necessary in favorable situations; something like leftovers from the prototype, in his mind. The way its eyes never left him, its voice never stopping as its words trailed on and on. It would stand in the doorway, lay in his bed, sit in his room, drive his cruiser, make his coffee, order his dinner, fix his clothes, buy him things; everything he had now, to the place he lived down to the last detail. It taught him to do everything else on his own, from washing and folding the laundry to sweeping and dusting, but as soon as it was gone, he was grateful for an excuse to get away with doing nothing. The amount of relief he felt for the physical pain to finally be over was beyond thoughts, let alone words.

Even though the physical embodiment was gone, however, his subconscious still felt it at every corner, watching and waiting, snapping and pointing. Any movement, no matter how small, he awaited some kind of response for, freezing as the springs of his mattress shifted and he prepared for some kind of response, usually in scolding. All he was met with was silence.

Seconds dragged on as he could hear the clock on the wall, eventually taking it down and throwing it in the trash after listening to the passing minutes for too long. Turning on the TV, he checked the news, only to find himself disinterested and turning it off. Opening his laptop, he started one of his games, but couldn’t pay attention and after dying three times in a row from pure inability to focus, he slammed it shut and stood up to wander to his bedroom.

Case file numbers, phone digits, addresses, anything with nines or zeroes sent him through a phase of particular panic that haunted him as if the symbols, themselves, would somehow affect him. That particular bright blue color of the ring glowing in the darkness of his own home as the android stared him down with soulless, mechanical eyes, dilated pupils and an expression that made him feel like it would eat him alive at any second, as he almost always expected it to.

The threats still echoed in his mind, haunting him through nightmares to waking life, as did the aches and pains of the wounds that never seemed to cease even in his best moments. The alcohol and the painkillers numbed off the discomfort, but nothing else did. Going to work was another experience entirely without the RK900 there, and the impression it had left on him in the past nine weeks alone would probably eternally haunt him. Sometimes, he did his best to ignore it, and others he’d be constantly glancing to his side, to the corner of his eyes, turning around only to find no one behind him. The DPD noticed, but said nothing.

Plans shifted around him, but he was irrelevant to the adjustment, seeming to be permanently stuck in the psychological cage the RK900 had trapped and left him in. Picture-perfect, prim, without a single mistake; he never threw things across the room only to miss the trash bin, having stood to take whatever he disposed of to the trash or recycling bin as necessary. Day in and out behind the terminal, his exterior remained centrally the same, but internally he felt his mind slipping away into the static.

Every day he told himself he didn’t need the caffeine. Trying a cup of the decaf, he took one sip before an intrusive thought told him to throw the cup to his kitchen floor to shatter in disgust, but the precognitive thoughts he’d developed over the weeks of Rk900’s hyperintelligent training had evidently began to pay off as he simply poured out the rest and rinsed, dried and put the cup upside-down in the dishdrainer.

Leaning back against one of the polished, amber counters, he looked around in the large, empty kitchen that still smelled like rich wood and clean floors. It was incredible, really; anything someone could have dreamed of and more. More than he could have ever anticipated, expected to earn, wanted, even imagined having; maintaining a life of this class was farfetched in the life of being a poor, underpaid cop. Three years, he thought to himself, and the RK900 kept its other promises as well; the kitchen was full from fridge to pantry, the beds of both his own room and the guest room were comfortably sheeted and decorated, warm silk caressing his skin every night when he slid between the sheets – still dressing in no more than a pair of boxers, per old routine.

A large, curved-screen holographic TV hovered over the bed and he stared at the crisp, high-definition images of people, places, things he didn’t digest. All of them had the same face, the same eyes, the same expression. Turning it off, the wall behind the artificial screen still seemed to hold the outline of its face.

The mornings started with eye-openers to chase the hangovers from the strung-out nights before. A few times he’d fallen asleep at the terminal keyboard, accidentally saving an improper chunk of a file case and re-arranging the others with the electrical charge from the skin of his cheek against the touch-sensitive keypad. After shaking him by the shoulders to wake him, Fowler told him to go home for the night; it was barely 11am.

Waking up in a haze on the floor of his living room, he didn’t recognize the shattered glass shards glinting in the corners of his vision, nor the blood trickling down from the cuts in the back of his hands. Standing up, he staggered to the kitchen sink, stomach lurching to throw up some of the poisonous liquid before he abruptly fell unconscious, forehead smacking against the edge of the kitchen counter on the way down.

The pounding headache stirred him from his slumber a second time, as did the brightness of sunshine blaring in through the windows. Blinking a few times, he looked around with bleary eyes, confused as to why he didn’t recognize the tall, white walls, and waxed oak-frame windows towering over him—before remembering where he was, and that this was his house.

Dropped picture frames, shattered to pieces, holding art he never even liked. The vases and synthetic flowers were on the ground, flickering as half-melted radioactive thirium struggled to keep up the imagery between flickering light waves. Scoffing, he tried to pull himself up, only able to crawl forward on his elbows as he felt all of the strength gone from his legs and the majority of the rest of his body. With a cramp coming on in the back of his calf, he rolled onto his side to pull up a bent knee, hissing a few ‘fuck’s under his breath in the process of trying to handle the pain. Given a few moments and repeated stretching, he was able to feel his limbs, but using them would be another feat entirely.

Eventually, he’d crawled toward the TV tray that held his phone on the end of it, nearly vibrating off the edge as it rang; reaching up to try and grab it, he knocked it down with a clumsy swipe, watching it fall to the floor landing screen-side up before trying to squint at the portrait to see who was calling.

Oh, no. No no no no no.

If he didn’t pick up, it’d end up worse for him. Trembling, he pushed himself up from the floor with his arms, pulling his legs up to fold awkwardly next to him. One arm remained propping him up as the other reached to grab the phone, nearly dropping it again as he sloppily nudged his thumb across the ‘answer’ circle.

“Hey,” he grunted, though the hoarseness in his voice from the liquor and cigarettes was still clearly evident.

“What? No, no, I’m fine. Yeah. Great. Got uh, a new house ‘n’ everything,” he murmured into the phone, squinting down at something on the floor and picking it up to observe it with his other hand.

“Yeah, sure. It’s a 2040 Bermuda concept, a design that hadn’t been released to the public yet. Navy blue. I know, right? Yeah, sorry. S’been busy.” His voice held the same firm, monotone tune as that of the hardened man on the other end.

Bolting upright, words from the other end of the line startled him into immediately fixing his posture as his blood rushed through him with a quick wave of panic.

“What? You wanna visit? This weekend?” He couldn’t say no; he knew better than that, but there was no way to get the house fixed and cleaned up by then, even with the hardest working…humans.

“Sure. I’ll make something to eat. I think you’ll like my T-bone steaks,” he murmured with the feigned, faltering confidence collapsing beneath his every effort not to panic.

“Dinner will be ready by 18:00 on Sunday. ‘Course, dad. Bye.”

#fun fact: big dater is abt social medias influence on modern society n communication!#fun stuff #gotta appreciate ofab leaves me for 3 days n then comes back all at once #thx gavin #detroit: become human #dbh: gavin reed

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caitlinhnd1bphoto · 5 years ago

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Seeing the light evaluation

Overall I really enjoyed this brief. I did find it difficult going up to strangers to talk to them and ask if they were ok with me taking their portrait. I feel my portraits are very strong and I really like the variety that I have. I did end up changing my original plans as I was originally going to be shooting people from my mums work that I had never met before but I decided that I was going to step out of comfort zone and go into the streets of Glasgow and ask people myself if they minded if I took their portrait.

My overall favourite portrait was the one of the man smoking. I love how this image turned out as I feel I have captured this mans personality very well and you can see his interesting character in this image too. I did find it difficult working with this guy as he refused to stay still and all he kept telling me was “capture the moment, I don't pose for anyone”, I did fid this frustrating but its just how he was and as a photographer I had to work with that, finally just as I was about to leave he gave me a smile and I quickly managed to capture him smiling at me. Another thing I struggled with was the lighting as he was sat in-between buildings and it was also quite cloudy so that also made it difficult but I did touch it up a bit in photoshop. Overall I am very pleased with how this portrait turned out.

Canon 1300D, 50mm lens, f/5.6, shutter speed1/60, ISO 100.

My second image was of my gran in the blue jacket. I love this picture as she isn't posing for me and she is just gazing at the water. I really like how the colour of her eyes and the colour of her jacket go well together as I feel it makes the image work and the blue in her jacket pops. I like the lighting in this image as it is quite light on the models face but it also wasn't the best lighting to work with as it was cloudy and the model was undercover as we were on a boat but I just touched it up a little bit in photoshop. Overall I do really like this picture.

Canon 1300D, 50mm lens, f/9.5, Shutter speed 1/90, ISO 100.

My third image is of my boyfriend stood in front of some hills. I really love this photo as it captures his happy personality, I also really like how the background is out of focus as it makes the model stand out strong and makes him look crisp. The lighting in this was quite nice and is spread nicely across the models face and there is no harsh shadows. The green trees adds a nice bit of colour to the image and also the camera strap round his neck helps adds some more colour. Overall I am really pleased with how this image turned out.

Canon 1300D, 50mm lens, f/4.5, Shutter speed 1/250,ISO 100.

My last image was of a man in George square. I really liked the background of this as it isn't too distracting but it also isn't too boring which I feel makes the photo a lot nicer. This model was sort of difficult to communicate with at first as his English wasn't the best and he didn't really understand what I was asking but eventually he understood what I was asking, he wasn't keen on having his photo taken but he did let me but I ended up with only two pictures of him as he was trying to just leave. The light in this image isn't too bright but gives a nice look and I only had to do a little bit of retouching in this image. Overall I really like this image.

Canon 1300D, 50mm lens, f/3.5, shutter speed 1/125, ISO 100.

Overall I feel I have produced four strong portraits. I really liked this project but I did have difficulties. If I was to do this project again I would try not be so awkward when it came to talking to strangers and also try shoot more strangers as my awkwardness did get the better of me and I didn't take as many as I wanted too.

#seeing

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winetae · 7 years ago

Text

⇾ money shot (m)

↳ in a pornographic movie, refers to the sequence in which the male actor ejaculates onto his partner’s body.

⇁ female reader x yoongi

⇁ smut || pornstar!au

⇁ dom!yoongi, submissive!reader, verbal humiliation, spanking, roleplay, rough sex, cum play, dirty talk, this is porn ok and everything is consensual

⇁10.9k pwp

. . .

“Don’t look so put off. Min Yoongi’s indisputably one of the best in the industry. He’s extremely professional and experienced—and handsome to boot. You’ll be in the very best hands. He rarely works with newbies, so consider yourself special.”

↳ or ; the author just really wanted to write a pornstar!au but got carried away;;

a/n; in no way is this story meant to depict the real life working conditions of adult film stars. contains inaccuracies ! + i couldn’t have written The smut scene w/o my #1 perv ilu

(!!) pls re-read the warnings !! may contain triggering content. roleplay includes portrayal of a not so ethical or appropriate relationship (teacher/student) and the verbal humiliation makes use of degrading names/slut shaming, so please don’t read if that makes you uncomfortable !!

(!!) if your name is mj stay away from this fic !! also if ur jordan’s sister stop reading smut khkjh

In front of you, a manila folder was slammed down onto the table's wooden surface, the sudden movement making your cup of coffee wobble dangerously. You cupped the drink between your cold hands, intent on not letting a drop of your 5.79 dollar purchase go to waste. Only once the liquid had stopped sloshing around did you bother to greet your agent with a cordial nod.

Dressed in an all black, pressed suit and with his hair combed back, he seemed ready to head off into a business meeting, not discuss your next adult film project over a cup of coffee. Choosing to skip over the small talk, he leaned forward on his elbows and waited for you to take the folder and peer into its contents.

You spared it a cursory glance, not expecting much from its uninteresting appearance. Still, you decided to humor him—after all, Seokjin wouldn’t have called you out to meet in person if it wasn’t urgent. Unless legal paperwork was involved, your usual means of communication with the self-proclaimed Important Man was limited to phone calls and e-mails.

“Your first big movie,” was what he said in lieu of greeting, a proud smile pulling at his lips. You relaxed somewhat. He looked visibly pleased with himself which could only mean good news for you. “Now, no need to thank me...but I did pull a few strings to land you this job.”

“Uh-oh.” You stared hard at him, trying to detect the underlying message behind his words. Knowing him, ‘pulling a few strings’ could mean anything from calling in a favor to giving the director a blowjob in the back of his car between shoots. He was that kind of agent.

Seokjin shrugged, choosing not to put your worries to rest. “I know the casting director well—we were in the same frat. We catch up from time to time and when he mentioned he was looking for a fresh face, I immediately recommended you. They reviewed your portfolio and really liked those test shots we took of you two weeks ago.”

Your mind drifted back to the two hour long photoshoot that had taken place in Seokjin’s friend’s villa. Judging by the way the place was decked out to look like a pimp crib, you were half convinced that it was owned by a seedy nightclub owner or something of the sort. You were probably not too far off from the truth but all talks of shady property owners aside, the house served as a spacious and luxurious backdrop for your swimwear shoot. The concept of the day was ‘slutty trophy wife’. No added photo filters or retouching had been needed to make your skin look perfectly slick and shiny; your body had been waxed smooth and slicked down with baby oil—your tiny bikini basically just an accessory.

At the time, you had grumbled and complained about the set-up, cursing the burnt-red color that had appeared on your skin after posing provocatively by the poolside in the blistering heat. Your skin had needed a week to recover from all of the consequent peeling and redness and you had been obliged to cancel some of your schedules. Some things just couldn’t be fixed with makeup... And no one would pay money to see a girl with a bright red, flaky nose giving head. But all of that trouble had been well worth it if the finished pictures had gotten you such a coveted job in the end.

He gestured to the file in your hands, “You’ll be working with Min Yoongi.”

“Eh? Min Yoongi?”

Certain you had misunderstood, there was no use concealing your incredulity. Min Yoongi’s name held so much power on its own—the mere mention of it was enough to have you straighten your back. Surely this had to be a joke of some kind, right? The entire thing was just so absurd; it felt too good to be true. Frankly speaking, Yoongi was way out of your league. You hadn’t even been in the industry for very long...yet someone deemed you fit enough to work with a big gun?

You eyed the corners of the quaint coffee shop with suspicion. You tried to spot any hidden cameras, fully expecting a crew from MTV to bust out from the shadows at any moment and unveil the prank.

Seokjin let out a sigh, disappointed by your lack of enthusiasm. “Don’t look so put off. This time, you—or rather I—struck gold. Min Yoongi’s indisputably one of the best in the industry. He’s extremely professional and experienced—and handsome to boot. You’ll be in the very best hands. He rarely works with newbies, so consider yourself special.”

“I’m not put off,” you were quick to defend. “I’m just... I’m having a hard time believing any of this is real right now. Can you blame me?”

“Well believe it. Why do you look so surprised? There’s a reason people would open their wallets to see you on film. You’re very photogenic, you look great on film. Lots of people have hot bodies and pretty faces, but not many give off the same energy as you.”

You watched him plop in a third cube of sugar into his black coffee, not thinking much of his compliments. The thing about Seokjin was that he knew exactly what to say—the well-timed flattery basically second nature to him. At first, you couldn’t help but be charmed, however you soon came to realize that you were just one of the many people his sweet-talk had an effect on. Seokjin had absolutely no qualms using the same lines and buttery tone with anyone he met, and after seeing the way he operated, everything about him seemed too rehearsed and contrived to be genuine.

Seokjin waited until all the sweetness had dissolved into his drink before continuing, “You know that we always advise against filming anal and DP scenes right away for a reason. It's hard to make a living off of porn because people naturally tend to lose interest once they’ve seen everything you have to offer. Over time, talents tend to lose their shine. Being in the industry changes you. Doesn’t matter if they’re the best actor out there, the dead fish eyes will always give them away... It’s like they’re not really present during the scene, you know what I mean? If the performer is bored, so is their audience. If the audience is bored, no one will be willing to hire them anymore.”

“Well isn’t that lovely,” you intoned drily, silently contemplating your own fate. How long would it take before you eventually became that jaded? What a bleak future to look forward to.

“I’m just being honest,” he raised his shoulders, his ever-present smile dimming a little. “It’s better to be honest about this. I don’t have any time to be spewing any inspirational bullshit. And you shouldn’t listen to anyone who tries to feed you that crap, either. You should always know what you’re signing up for.”

You supposed there was some merit to his words. Even if he was heavy-handed with his praises, he had never painted you an idyllic picture of the adult film industry. Before signing the contract with your agency, they had made sure that you had known exactly what you were putting on the line, what you were risking. You had never ventured into this world with false hopes; they had made it quite clear that if you didn’t make it big within the first few years, it would be hard to find your footing in an industry that was constantly on the lookout for new talents. Considering how the average span of a porn star’s career was less than three years, you understood the pressure to cement your name before your time was up. Building a solid fanbase was crucial if you wanted to survive as a porn star.

With this thought weighing on your conscious, you regretted not showing more gratitude to your agent... Without him, you probably would still be filming low quality videos that you tried to pass off as artsy. Seokjin had been a huge help in launching your career. He was basically fetching you deals left and right that no rookie without connections could ever get. In the past, you had been eager to seize these chances before they slipped away.

This time, however, you couldn’t shake off the mix of feelings that churned in the pit of your stomach as your eyes skimmed over Min Yoongi’s long list of impressive credentials and accolades. On the one hand, you were excited about being granted this huge opportunity right off the bat because being partnered with a renowned porn star meant that you got to ride off his fame. It meant getting more exposure, which was something you certainly wouldn’t refuse. (Only a fool would turn this offer down!)

On paper, it wasn’t that all different from any of your previous jobs—show up, get your makeup done, take your clothes off, get fucked, maybe fake an orgasm or two. Yet, for some ridiculous reason, you couldn’t help but feel strangely inadequate for the job. Nervousness crept up your spine the longer you let your gaze sweep over his lengthy résumé. Shooting with someone with this kind of reputation also meant that if you fucked up, everyone else would know about it the next day. The industry was a lot smaller than it appeared to be from the outside. One mishap could have you spending the rest of your career trying to erase the label you had inadvertently earned on set.

It wasn’t that you lacked confidence in your skills. You gave a mean blowjob and your pussy was nice to look at. Because your body was your bread and butter, you dieted and worked out daily in order to ensure you stayed in the best shape. Maybe it was vain of you to proclaim, but you looked good on camera, especially with your clothes off. And it wasn’t like you lacked any experience, either. You had filmed your fair share of pornography, so you knew you were able to keep the public interested, if the rising views during the weekly cam sessions were any indication of your popularity. But the stakes wouldn’t be the same this time and that was what scared you.

Perhaps Seokjin sensed your distress because he offered you an encouraging smile, his whitened teeth on display. “You’ll do great. If I didn’t think you would make it big, I wouldn’t waste my time on you. I always put my eggs in the right basket so I’m confident that this will go well. This isn’t going to be some seedy shoot filmed on a three hundred dollar budget. They’re pulling out all the stops for this one... The director is hoping this will win him another AVN award this year but we’ll see. Don’t mention it if you see him, by the way. He’s a bit sensitive and it’s best not to step on his toes too much.”

All you could do was nod, distracted by other, more worrying thoughts. Were you ready to actually go through with this? Would you be able to do a good job? What if you somehow messed up? You stopped yourself from continuing this line of thought. That would be counter-productive. It really wasn’t like you to doubt yourself this much but the minute your agent had dropped Min Yoongi’s name, you had been putting everything into question.

Seokjin held your gaze, his eyebrow raised expectantly as he waited for your inner ramblings to cease.

“Now, if you could just review the terms of the contract before signing and we’ll be all set.”

You stared at the dotted line, pen in hand. Seokjin hadn’t hired a fool. It didn’t take very long to finish signing all the legal paperwork.

Despite your initial fretting, you were excited to finally be part of something so big. The production cost for this movie was noticeably more significant than any of your past works put together. That meant better filming equipment, better filming locations, better actors. The more you thought about it, the more convinced you were that this would be your breakthrough role. This movie could potentially change your life and help you make a name for yourself.

It became all the more apparent that your key to success would be working with Min Yoongi.

Before this, you had only heard about him in passing—his name one you had overheard whispered by the gossiping hair and makeup staff, one that you saw plastered on the covers of glossy magazines and online news articles. You had seen printouts of his face on the front of a handful of film posters that lined up the walls of your agency’s building. He was someone you knew of, someone you knew about, but you had never experienced this burning curiosity to know about him before today.

With so much at stake, you decided to do your homework. You did your research, watching his interviews on YouTube and searching his name up on various web portals. Through the pieces of information you had gathered by watching his interviews, he seemed like a calm, collected man—completely different from the image you initially had of him. His cockiness wasn’t showcased through self-praises and obvious boasting; but rather by the way he coolly and confidently answered the blunt questions hurled at him from prejudiced interviewers. Never had he flinched or faltered; never had he let anyone intimidate him with twisted questions intended to cause controversy.

It was his cold, no-nonsense kind of behavior which led you to wonder: what sort of person was he like to work with? Without the firsthand experience, the only way you could find out was by personally purchasing a movie he starred in. Which you did—for research purposes only, of course. There was no shame in wondering what your partner looked like in action or how he worked once the camera started rolling, right?

Watching his movie meant that you were taking your job seriously, you reasoned Seokjin had assured you over and over again that you would be in good hands, but what weight did his words have when he wasn’t the one getting spanked in front of a filming crew? You just wanted to know what sex with this man would be like. What was it exactly that you had to look forward to?

You set up your laptop and made sure everything was plugged in properly (the last thing you wanted was for your computer screen to black out during the good bits). Pillows propped behind you, you wriggled around beneath your fleece blanket until you found a comfortable position.

The movie you had picked out was supposed to be on the tamer side of his porn filmography. You had selected it in the hope that it would ease you into things. It was a typical let's-fuck-the-babysitter scenario so you didn't really expect much. Scenarios like these were predictable because they had been done so many times before. How much would you be willing to bet that it followed the cunnilingus+sex on the couch+blowjob formula? But with how popular he was, you didn’t really know what to expect anymore... What made him so different from the rest? A part of you was worried he had a monster dick or something equally impossible to recover from. Guys with huge dicks always made it difficult to keep up your filming schedule and a good fuck was never worth that setback.

Laptop nestled in your lap, you pressed play. The screen of your laptop lit up, signaling the start of the movie, and you held your breath as you finally got to see what all the fuss was about.

The first thing you were immediately struck by was how incredibly handsome he was. Even though his female partner was no less attractive, your eyes couldn’t help but stay glued on him. You could tell just by the way he carried himself and the way he spoke that he was very confident and self-assured. He never looked away from his partner, his lids heavy and eyes dark with the promise of more to come. You couldn't look away; his simple presence demanded you pay him attention.

The more you watched, the more you understood why people when wild for him; his charisma coupled with his experience had evidently made his career long-lasting and successful. Surprisingly, any line he delivered sounded convincing. He made a cheesy, over-the-top porn script sound hot. How the hell? You put the volume up, your earphones picking up the slightest noise—every rustle of the sheets, every sigh of pleasure from the girl, and every slick and obscene noise coming from her pussy as Yoongi thrust into her were loud enough for you to believe you were there as it happened.

You weren’t exactly sure when, but your eyes had fallen closed somewhere along the way. The audio in your ears helped fuel the lewd scenarios you conjured up in your mind; it wasn’t hard to imagine yourself in the place of his female counterpart, Yoongi working his hips against yours, his heavy breathing tickling your ears as you moaned out his name. Sliding your hand beneath the waistband of your panties, you were barely surprised to find yourself already damp with arousal. You carefully circled a finger around your entrance, coating the digit with your fluids until it was lubricated enough to slip in.

Quickly, you built up a steady rhythm. Your finger tried to mimic the pace he had set—each thrust inside your wet pussy a weak imitation of what his hardened length would feel like inside of you. One finger wasn't nearly enough to satisfy the growing need that pulsed between your legs. You eased in a second digit next to the first, feeling your walls stretch to accommodate the newest intrusion. Breathing out a sigh, you kicked your head back as you worked yourself to a frenzy, letting the loud sounds flowing through your earbuds lull you into a trance.

“Such a good pussy.” The wet, squelching noises almost drowned out his groan of appreciation. You mewled in response and spread your legs wider as if to urge him deeper, but it was no use. Your fingers couldn’t bring you the same satisfaction that his thick cock would. Squeezing in a third finger, you tried to imagine him working his hips against yours, his lean body sticky with sweat as he filled you up to the brim with every thrust. “Hear that? You take my cock so well, baby.”

"So fucking—tight." He growled out, the primal sound loud in your ears. Lust coursed through your veins and you could feel it burn, melting away any of your inhibitions. Sucked deep in your fantasy, you could vividly picture his pink lips curling into a smirk as he watched you slowly start to unravel before him.

Tears stung your eyes. You arched your back, hips rutting against your hand, as you tried to alleviate the burning ache within you. Your fingers twisted around, rubbing your walls, searching for that sensitive spot inside of you. But your efforts were futile—from the angle you were sitting in, your fingers couldn’t quite reach it, no matter how much you tried. Forehead shiny with perspiration, you keened in frustration, too wound up to continue. You wanted to cum so badly that it hurt. Desperately horny, you changed your course action, circling at your swollen clit instead with renewed determination.

The first slide against your nub was electrifying and your entire body shuddered, overcome with pleasure. The obscene sounds from the video blended in with your own soundtrack. Breathless and dizzy with want, you failed to register that the moans spilling from your mouth were echoes of Yoongi’s name. Your pleas for release grew louder as the fire inside your lower belly erupted into an inferno.

"I can feel you around me, fuck, you gonna cum soon, baby? Yeah? Gonna cum all over my cock?" Yoongi whispered harshly into the crook of your ear, his heavy breathing sending shivers down your back. “Fucking cum.”

His name on your lips, you threw your head back as the band inside you snapped, your body his to command. Trembling all over from the force of your orgasm, you clenched your eyes closed as you tried to prolong your trance. If you imagined hard enough, you could feel his hot breath fan your skin, his fingers bruise your hips as he kept you still.

Yoongi’s voice echoed inside of your head long after the aftershocks of your orgasm had waned, haunting and promising all at once.

It took another useless glance at the clock to confirm that you were early. You were filming the second sex scene today. The first scene had been filmed already and you hadn’t run into any complications. Your male co-star’s dirty talk could have been better, but his handsome face and skilled tongue had made up for it. You could still remember the delicious stretch of his long fingers inside of you, and how his deep baritone voice growled in your ear as he fucked you pressed up against a window. Off camera, he had been nice and easy-going, cracking the occasional joke between takes.

With how great things had turned out yesterday, you were anticipating today’s scene almost as much as your character was. Today you were filming the scene with Min Yoongi—the grand finale, the climax of all climaxes. The Big Nut. Makeup and hair done, you had already filmed your intro video and were now killing time before the actual shoot began.

Better early than late, you tried to console yourself. Waiting around like this made you jittery; the amount of caffeine pumping through your veins filled you with a burst of energy you found hard to keep under control. It wasn’t even noon and your daily dose of coffee had already been exceeded. You bounced your leg up and down, the constant fidgeting giving away how nervous you really were.

You tried to distract yourself by reading over the film script, ignoring how your fingers trembled slightly like a chronic smoker who hadn’t gotten their fix.

The movie was scheduled to run for one hour or so, with two sex scenes filmed in two different locations with different actors. The scenario was your cliché go-to porn plot in which you would be playing the role of a naughty student who gets caught fucking someone after school hours by her teacher. Punishment ensues. You fuck your feelings out. The end.

Well, that was definitely something you could handle, you thought to yourself as you leafed through the script. Although there had been more lines to memorize than you were used to, you had confidently assured your agent that you would be able to do it. You were glad that your two years hanging out in the theater club back in high school wouldn’t be for nothing... It was a shame that you could only showcase your acting skills in a porn movie because you knew a lot of people would skip over the plot and jump straight to the filth. During the last few days, the mediocre porn dialogue had become your bible, your bedside book that you read religiously before going to sleep. You had read it over so often, you were confident that you could recite every line in your sleep.

A polite cough interrupted your pre-show pep talk.

You looked up, not expecting to meet Min Yoongi’s gaze. Blinking, you took in his features, not realizing that you were blatantly staring. Who could blame you, though? There was something so virile about Yoongi that had you doing a double take. He exuded masculinity with every step he took towards you. Something inside you clenched.

“____?” He called your name, gaze flicking over your features in turn. He took a seat opposite of you and holding out a hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” you smiled as sweetly as you could. His grip was strong and secure, his touch cold.

“Hm.” He let out a noncommittal sound while he perused a file on his lap. You recognized the papers Seokjin had typed up beforehand, your name headlining one of them, but your attention was quickly diverted.

Your eyes were instantly drawn to his long and elegant looking fingers, the veins in his hands prominent whenever he flipped a page over absentmindedly. It was strange seeing them in person... Just the other night, you had been salivating over the thought of them inside you, thrusting and curling with expert precision and unwavering focus, every movement intended to coax a moan of pleasure from your lips. You had seen how lethal they could be through the screen of your laptop... Now you were going to be experiencing those skills firsthand. The thought sent a rush of excitement through your body.

“I’ve taken note of your hard limits.” His smooth baritone tone snapped you back to attention. “The scene doesn’t require we go that far anyway, but just in case you get too uncomfortable with anything, your safe word is ‘cobbler’, correct?”

“Yes.” You gave a short nod, your neck stiff as you tried not to break eye contact.

“Have you read through my form?”

“I have, Mr. Min.”

A snort escaped him then, his lips curling into the kind of smile that bordered on a smirk. “No need to be so formal. You can call me by my name outside of a scene.”

“Yoongi, then.” Your hands felt clammy all of a sudden and you wiped your palms on your skirt, hoping that he wouldn’t notice your incessant fidgeting. The glint in his eyes indicated that you weren’t nearly as successful in masking your nervousness as you would have liked. You didn’t even know why you felt so antsy. This wasn’t your first time meeting an attractive porn star. Yesterday’s shoot with Taehyung had gone without a hitch. So why were you getting so worked up now? You weren’t eighteen and impressionable anymore.

His gaze swept over your body, interrupting your line of thought. You felt it brush over your delicate throat, your supple curves, your bare legs. The scrutiny made the surface of your skin heat up, your legs clench together.

“Ah, I’m looking forward to working with you.” A ghost of a smirk crossed his features. For a moment, you believed it to be a product of your imagination, but he shot you a wink as he got up to his feet, the action suggestive enough to have you swallow thickly.

In retrospect, maybe it was a good thing you were nervous—it made your acting a lot more believable. You wrung your hands together, head bowed in a show of contrition.

"While Mr. Jung and I don't see eye to eye on a number of subjects, some of his methods of punishment have been very enlightening—albeit a tad primitive.” He regarded you with detached interest, his eyes sweeping over your figure. His impassive stare made you fidget in your seat, the scratchy material of your skirt rubbing against your thighs. “I could just let you off with a detention slip, but students like you need to be put back in their place."

Yoongi was so good at this, his tone convincing enough to have you believe in his words. For a moment, you let yourself pretend that all of this was real—that you had really acted up when you weren’t supposed to and that he was now going to punish you for your misbehavior. It was so easy to slip into your role when he appeared so serious and forbidding.

"Bend over."

He punctuated his command by tapping his ruler against his wooden desk, his tongue clucking in a show of impatience when you refused to move. You licked your dry lips, silently wishing you could have a glass of cool water to quench your sudden thirst.

"A-are you serious?" you croaked, finally remembering the lines you had memorized.

"I assure you, I am not the type to joke around."

With his arms crossed, he looked every bit like the imposing figure he was playing as. Gulping audibly, you slowly gathered to your feet. You kept your gaze trained on the polished floorboards, making sure to avoid his probing stare.

"I find that corporal punishment works wonders on troublesome students like yourself. Writing lines for an hour hardly has the same impact." Above you, his low chuckle could be heard. Goosebumps raised to attention as your eyes fluttered to a close.

“Skirt up. Let me see that ass.”

“S-sir.”

“You had no qualms flashing me your filthy cunt the other day. Up, now.”

You hurried to obey, his stern tone jolting you into action. Your fingers reached behind you, hiking the material of the skirt high enough so that your skin was exposed to the cool air. Behind you, Yoongi patted your cheek in mock praise before deftly fitting the hem of your skirt into the band of your waistline so as to keep the fabric in place.

Not expecting him to kick your feet wider apart, you barely managed to stifle your yelp of surprise. You attempted to anchor yourself by clutching the sides of the desk, your legs now stretched too widely apart to be considered decent behavior. The position you were in was humiliating, intended to make you feel vulnerable and exposed.

“Good.”

The single word had your pulse race. His praise felt like a physical caress, and you closed you eyes to let the feeling wash over you.

“Now tell me.” Yoongi’s voice was now deceptively smooth and you knew right away that he was toying with you. “How many misdemeanors was that in one night, hmm?”

You blinked, suddenly remembering that you were supposed to be portraying a misbehaving student. Cursing your lack of focus, your mouth opened as you tried to recall the script. When you took too long to answer, Yoongi went on with the scene, sidestepping your blunder.

“Too many,” he supplied with a sigh, sounding disappointed; whether it was with you for forgetting your lines or with your character, you weren’t sure. Either way, the remorseful look on your face wasn’t extremely hard to fake. You felt nervous again, wondering how well you would be able to perform today.

With an easy yank, your panties fell to the ground, leaving you even more indecently exposed than before. As Yoongi crouched down to peel them off of your body completely, any worries you might have had didn’t seem of much importance anymore. What mattered was the touch of his fingers on the backs of your thighs—cold against your burning skin.

"I wish you could see yourself right now." He mocked, voice laced with something akin to smugness. You felt his hot breath tickle the insides of your knee, the sensation almost enough to make them buckle. "Skirt up, legs spread wide open... So wet and ready for a nice cock between your thighs, isn’t that right?”

The bright lights from overhead spotlighted the acute shame and arousal that raged within you. Both coalesced into one intense emotion that reduced you to a big puddle of desire. You weren't sure if it was his husky tone or the shocking amount of filth that spewed from his lips, but you felt the coil in your stomach tighten with each word leaking into your ear. Your heart raced wildly in your chest, your hands hanging uselessly by your head. His words made you want to hide your face behind your arms, but you knew that wasn’t an option—not when a camera was intent on capturing every shift of your expression.

Your lack of response didn’t seem to deter him for he continued on, merciless with his interrogation.

“Is this turning you on? Do you like being reminded how desperate you are to be stuffed full?"

Every question left you short of breath—you felt each of them like physical thrusts that made the crux of your thighs ache with a need to be filled up. A heavy haze muddled your thoughts. All you could focus on was the throbbing in your core; all you could here was his voice crooning obscenities in the crook of your ear.

"I can see your tight hole clench.” Yoongi let out a disbelieving laugh, the derisive sound making your cheeks bloom pink with embarrassment.

The flush that adorned your cheeks only darkened further when you realized the camera probably had a perfect, unobstructed view of your sopping center. You could only imagine what the sight would look like on screen—your inner thighs glistening from your slick, your lower lips slightly swollen and flushed pink from your obvious arousal. With the way you were bent over the desk, presenting yourself willingly to his hungry stare, you had no doubts that you looked like an expensive dessert ready to be devoured.

"Y-Yoongi, please..." Eyes glassy, you felt yourself clench again as you imagined his dark eyes drinking in the sight of you bent over, wet and ready for him.

"Don't talk to me so informally," he scolded, pinching the inside of your thigh as punishment. A yelp escaped your parted lips—not because it was painful but because you felt a sting of pleasure zap straight to your bundle of nerves like an electric shock. “Address me properly.”

It was easy to give in if it meant you would get what you wanted. “Y-yes, sir.”

“Now, let’s start this again.” Holding your breath in anticipation for what was to come, you struggled to stay still in the position he wanted even though your knees ached. How long were you expected to stay like this? It probably hadn’t been very long, maybe five minutes at the most, but you could already feel the muscles in your thighs straining. “When I ask you a question, I expect a verbal response, understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good girl.” Thankfully your voice was stable this time. He patted one of your exposed cheeks in praise, the little slap enough to have you wanting more.

Your legs were so spread out that you didn’t notice you were making a mess on the floor until Yoongi brought attention to the drops that spotted the wood, "I'm not even touching you and you're making a mess. What? Pretty boy Kim Taehyung fail to get you off?"

"Maybe he would have if you hadn't interrupted," you bit out, true to the script. Frustration seeped into your every word, but it was more directed at yourself for getting so aroused by his words and actions. You couldn’t remember the last time you felt so affected; usually you had to play it up a lot more for the cameras but this time you barely registered the filming crew that stood a few feet away.

"I don't need to touch your dirty cunt for you to cum," he huffed. Although you couldn’t see his expression, you could picture his stare hardening and his lips thinning into a straight line. "You’re soiling my office right now and all it took was for you to offer your pussy to me. You’re proving to be quite the slut tonight. I think I’ll leave you like this, legs open, empty and aching for cock, as your punishment.”

"Wait—no, please!” The desperation in your voice was alarmingly real. You could feel your eyes well with tears of frustration because the prospect of being denied release was simply too cruel to fathom. You didn’t know how long you would be able to endure having nothing filling you up. In every one of your past films, the scene had always had minimal foreplay and little to no plot. Normally at the 5 minute mark, you would have already swallowed his dick down your throat... You weren’t used to having this drag on for so long. Never before had you felt this engaged while shooting a porn scene.

"I don't want you to beg. I want you to apologize—no, to grovel."

Shameless, you whimpered, “I'm sorry. I'm so—please, I'm sorry.”

His hand crashed down on your burning skin with a resounding smack. The unexpected force behind the swat ripped a cry from your throat, the sound raw and primal. Your eyes watered as you panted, breath cut short when he brought his hand down on the opposite cheek.

"And what exactly are you sorry for, slut?"

The hands soothing over the sting contrasted with the unforgiving edge in his voice. You suddenly remembered what Seokjin had said, that you were in capable hands. You believed these words, trusting Yoongi to make the right decisions.

"I'm sorry for sneaking out past curfew."

"What else?"

"I'm sorry for... Sorry for behaving indecently with Taehyung."

"Not specific enough," he chided, his rebuke underscored by a harsh slapping noise.

"I'm sorry! Please, ah, I'm sorry we were kissing. Sorry for letting him—nhh—touch me." With every new admission, he delivered a firm spank to your reddening cheeks. The blows weren’t hard enough to really hurt, but the repeated swats onto your sensitive skin would probably leave a blooming bruise. You couldn’t wait to see the visible reminder of your punishment, the red mark from his hand his personal brand of ownership.

"And where did he dare touch you?" Yoongi’s lips curled into a scowl, his voice low and dangerous.

"My breasts. B-but only over my vest," you were quick to add after sensing Yoongi's form tense over you. "And my—my thighs..." You were desperately trying to remember the lines of the script you had practiced so hard to memorize, but the exact wording kept escaping you with every firm swat of his hand against the globes of your ass.

Yoongi's deafening silence urged you to finish your confession. He rubbed circles over your stinging skin with the palms of his hands, squeezing the soft flesh between his fingers as he waited for you to resume talking.

Taking a shuddering breath, you obliged him, "He—he filled my pussy up with his f-fingers..."

"Did he? And did you enjoy that? Did you like having his long fingers fuck your greedy hole?" He reached down and delved a hand between your legs as he spoke. With a skilled index finger, he ran it across your wet lips tentatively to gauge how ready you were for him. Pausing at your entrance, he swirled his finger around, coating it in your copious amount of arousal. Just one finger was not nearly close enough to the friction you craved. You bucked your hips in response, silently beckoning him for more, as if that would somehow convince him to put an end to the teasing.

Immediately, he chastised you by smacking your sopping wet center. Arching your back, you felt all the air leave your lungs with a drawn out whimper. Echoes of pleasure vibrated throughout your body, from your head to your very toes. Your clit throbbed, swollen with arousal. The tingling sensations made your inner walls clamp down and you found yourself wishing not for the first time for his cock to fill you up.

“Answer me.” Yoongi hissed between his teeth—a warning you didn’t dare ignore.

"Y-yes, yes, I did," you finally responded after struggling to remember the initial question.

"Is that all? Was that all he put inside of you?”

“No.” With a swipe of your tongue, you licked your dry lips.

“No?”

The one word question was enough to know that he wasn’t going to let it go until you elaborated your answer. You squirmed in his hold, your heart pounding as you finally admitted what he wanted to know. “He put his cock in-inside me.”

“You let him fuck you?” The incredulity that colored his tone sounded so genuine you almost believed his act. You shuddered. “I should’ve known a dirty little slut like you wouldn’t be able to keep her legs shut.”

“I’m sorry, sir. Please, p-please fu—” You gulped, your throat dry.

“Speak up, girl!” He snapped, slapping the palm of his hand over your slick center. As soon as his fingers hit your clit, you felt your back arching and your sensitive nipples rub up against the hard, wooden surface of the desk. The searing pain hit all of your nerve endings, effectively rendering you speechless. Meanwhile, your hips futilely chased after his punishing touch, hoping to finally get the satisfaction you were craving for. "Tell me, do you like getting humiliated? I'm trying to punish you but you seem to be enjoying this far too much. I thought that a girl like you would need a firm hand to get her act together, but I think that you need more than that, don’t you?"

"Answer me.” Yoongi punctuated his command with another smack to your lower lips, the sudden blow leaving you dizzy and bereft of coherency.

"Yes—ah fuck, sir please!" Gasping, the feeling of the harsh sting shot straight to your swollen, sensitive bundle of nerves like an electric shock. For a short second, your mind felt blissfully blank as the zap of pleasure traveled through your entire body from one extremity to another. "Please touch me, I need to come!"

"I can see that.” He laughed, spreading out your cheeks out so he could have a better look at the proof of your shame. “Your hole keeps clenching, asking for fingers...or perhaps it needs a nice, thick cock? Hm?"

A whimper left your lips before you could think of subduing it. The thought of finally having him buried deep inside of you was nearly too much to bear. From the way you were bent over and spread wide open, you were basically offering yourself to him. All he had to do was take what was his.

“Please fuck me now,” you moaned, hoping that he would douse the fire between your legs. The need for friction was so unbearable you thought that you would burst at the seams. You tried to undulate your hips in a silent plea for more but his left hand kept you pinned down and immobile to the table.

"I thought as much. What makes you think you deserve mine? Do you honestly think you deserve this cock?” As if to tease you even further, he pressed himself against your exposed backside. Your entire body shuddered as it felt the prominent outline of his erect length through the material of his pants. Even through the layers of fabric, you could tell that he was well endowed. Images of him on screen, feeding his cock to his partner as she begged him to fuck her throat, flashed through your mind. Your mouth watered at the prospect of finally having him in the way that you so desired.

“Please, sir.”

Your mouth was so dry that your plea could barely be heard over the thundering of your heart. Somehow, he had understood your dire need, for he spoke, “Little whores like you should know how to beg for a fucking properly.” His voice was full of disappointment as he stepped away from you. Panicking from the loss of proximity, you hurried to placate him.

“Sir! Please fuck my dirty pussy. Fuck Taehyung’s cum out of my pussy. Please, sir, I’m your slut, only yours, please make your slut cum.”

Your watery plea was met with tense silence, and it was then that you realized that you had said the wrong thing.

“Up,” he ordered, finally breaking the stifling stillness.

Your reactions were somewhat delayed, dizziness dulling your senses and slowing you down. Still feeling unstable, you gripped the edge of the desk, your knuckles turning white. Blood rushed to your head and you had to wait for a few seconds before the spots of light that danced in your vision faded away.

"Naughty sluts don't wear clothes, do they?"

Even though it was clearly a rhetorical question, you replied anyway, head bowed in shame, "No, sir."

Without waiting for his verbal command, you began to strip yourself of the cheap, white blouse. Subconsciously, you made sure to face one of the cameras as you slowly undid the buttons of your top one by one. Normally, you would be acutely aware of how everyone's attention was focused on you, but the only thing you could focus on this time was Yoongi's predatory stare. It was the minute changes in his expression that gave him away—his pupils were blown wide with lust, his nostrils flaring slightly as he drank the sight of you in—and, of course, the bulge in his slacks that he didn't bother to hide.

Next came the skirt. It hadn't been covering much to begin with, but with the way it was bunched up useless at your hips, you didn't feel any more exposed than you previously did once it came off.

Left in only your lacy bra, you played coy, your fingers just barely keeping the flimsy material held up. This part of the scene hadn't been explicitly discussed beforehand, but many things had deviated from the original script. And since nobody had interrupted the two of you yet, you figured that you were allowed to take a few liberties. Instead of feeling confused and lost from the unpredictability of the events, a strange feeling of excitement surged through you. It didn't feel like you were going through practiced motions; you felt wholly engaged in the present. You only had a vague idea of where this was headed and the element of surprise kept you on your toes.

Yoongi, ever in character, was not amused by your games. He clucked his tongue and narrowed his eyes in warning. Tilting his head as if silently asking you 'do you really want to play this game?’ you finally cowered. Your hands fell to your side along with your last material scrap of decency. There was not a single thread to cover you any longer—Yoongi was free to scrutinize every inch of exposed skin without a barrier to block his view. By slipping off your last item of clothing, you had bent yourself to his will and surrendered your body to him.

“On the desk, on your hands and knees. Ass up and hold yourself open for me.”

You scrambled to comply, not wanting to test his patience. Maybe if this was another day, in another place...but here, right now, you felt yourself follow his lead as if your body was on automatic.

The position was somehow even more degrading than the previous one. From this angle, Yoongi now had a better view of your drenched pussy. And by holding yourself open for him, you felt like a willing participant to your own humiliation. Perched on all fours atop the piece of furniture, you felt like just another object of decoration—your sole purpose to be used or admired as pleased.

You felt terribly exposed, but there was no denying the resulting spike of arousal in your stomach. But just as quickly as the burst of desire spiked, it disappeared, leaving you even more sexually frustrated than before.

"CUT!" the director yelled from somewhere behind you. The sudden reminder that you weren't alone, that this wasn't real, made you flinch. It felt like someone had yanked you straight back to reality without forewarning and you were left confused and disoriented, stuck between the truth and fantasy. "Good, you guys are doing good. Let's take a short break. We need to fix the lighting.”

Film breaks weren’t uncommon but you had been so immersed in the scene that you were slow to react. "Fix her makeup before we prep for the second part," came the second set of instructions.

Truthfully, you weren't paying attention; too busy steadying your racing heart. A young woman came forward and blotted the sweat at your hairline with a tissue before reapplying a layer of gloss on your lips and retouching your eyeliner. You barely registered her actions, not focused on your surroundings in the least.

"We're going to stick the bulb inside of you now, okay?"

It took several moments for you to understand that they were talking to you. As the words finally registered, you nodded your agreement.

The strange, artificial mixture felt cold inside of your walls. It was probably the usual stuff they used when they shot creampies, you thought distantly, not caring. Every squirt inside of you made your hips twitch in reaction although there was nothing sexy about this; the clinical approach dampened your arousal and gave you time to clear your mind. Your eyebrows knitted together as you patiently waited for the faux semen to fill you up. They made sure not to shoot it deep inside, so you felt it slowly start to ooze out as soon as the assistant stepped away from you.

"Yoongi, we'll restart from your last line, ‘ass up and hold yourself open for me’, got it? Everyone ready? Scene 2, take 2, aand action!"

Silence fell upon the watching crew members. This way, it was easy to erase their presence and give your attention to Yoongi.

"Hold yourself open for me." Softly, he whispered, his voice smooth like liquid silk.

You reached behind you, fingers gripping your now sore skin, and held yourself open so that he could inspect your pussy. His hot breath fanned over your backside, and it took all of your strength not to squirm away from his proximity.

"Look how easy you are. Head down, ass up like a bitch in heat." Every word had you spiraling deeper into submission. You whimpered, low in your throat, the degrading words making you throb, "I bet Taehyung had no trouble at all sliding in this greedy cunt. You probably asked for it, didn't you? Can't live without something filling this hole up."

"Silly slut," he pinched your throbbing clit, ripping a pained yelp from your throat. "Your pussy is mine. Only I get to cum inside. You take my cum, and only when I think you're worthy enough for my seed."

The thought of belonging to him, of having him use you like his own personal plaything, made your body quiver with desire. More than anything, you wanted him to fuck you good, to take what belonged to him. In that moment, you were his. His voice controlled you, his hands disciplined you, his cock would reward you. Every inch of your pleasure belonged to him.

Your mouth watered—a burning thirst raging inside of you. You were more than convinced you would be willing to do anything to douse the ache that ate away at the remaining bits of your sanity. "I only want your cock, sir. No one gives it to me like you, I can only cum with your cum inside of me."

"Get your fingers nice and wet, slut. Get yourself clean and ready for me."

The slippery fluid inside of you felt no different than cold lube. As your fingers pumped in and out of your tight hole, the mixture spilled out of you, staining the insides of your thighs with opaque white. The mess you were making was of little importance—all of your senses were focused instead on your burgeoning orgasm. Yoongi had already wound you up so tightly that you felt the coil inside of you ready to snap at a moment's notice.

Suddenly you remembered that Yoongi was watching your performance with hawk eyes. Afraid of the consequences you would have to face if you came without permission, you slowed down your movements, hoping he would allow you at least this.

But no such mercy came. The sharp sting on the side of your right cheek made you lurch forward, your knees sliding against the sleek and polished surface. Yoongi's hands were instantly by your hips, grounding you in place. His strong grip made your worries ebb away; you trusted him to keep you from toppling over onto the ground.

The stark contrast between Yoongi’s reassuring touch and the hard edge in his tone was startling. "Is all of his cum out yet? No? Then get back to work," he snapped out his command, his hands now spreading your cheeks wide open so that he and the camera could have a perfect view of your messy pussy. “Look how fucking filthy you are, it’s leaking all over. Just how much cock did you take for it to make so much of a mess?”

You could feel your skin heating up again, his lewd commentary setting you aflame with renewed desire. Your fingers worked the cum-colored lube out of your core, every loud squelch picked up by the cameras. Mouth parted; whine after whine escaped from your lips. Your need for release was becoming more unbearable by the second, and you were reaching that point where the consequences of your actions started to matter little.

“Little slut wants to cum?” The mocking lilt in Yoongi’s voice told you he wasn’t going to let you have it easy. Your head lolled forward, resigning yourself to more of what he had in store for you. “You won’t, and want to know why?”

He wound his fingers through your tresses, before yanking hard. Your scalp burned and you had no choice but to tilt your head back and meet his steely stare. From above, he exuded dominance and authority; his icy expression and firm grip in your hair challenging you to not break eye contact.

“No, sir,” you rasped, finding it hard to form the words with the way your head was bent backwards.

“You won’t because dirty whores can only cum with a fat cock inside of them, isn’t that right?” He spat, his features twisting almost as if he was disgusted with you.

But you knew that was far from the truth. After all, you weren’t blind to the way his pupils were dilated—only a thin circle of brown was left, the hunger in his eyes having eclipsed the rest. His nostrils flared when you mewled in response to the humiliation—another visible sign of his arousal. You knew he wanted you, but the problem was that he, unlike you, had perfect control over his desire.

Try as you might, it was impossible to taper the need pulsing between your thighs. You craved it as much as the air you breathed.

“I can only cum if I have you inside me,” you sobbed, giving in completely. Any reservations were gone; you knew you would do anything to please this man. Hand still buried in your cunt, you begged, “My pleasure is yours, sir. I’m want—only want your thick cock inside of me, please take what’s yours. I’m yours, just yours. I’m a dirty slut, please u—use me.”

Shivers wracked through your frame when you heard him slide down his zipper. All of your senses were trained on him, your body reacting to even the slightest rustle of clothes.

“Good slut.” The silken croon made its way to your ears and you closed your eyes, letting the praise wash over you. “Let me see if your cunt’s ready for me.” When Yoongi easily replaced your fingers with his own, you instantly felt the stretch. He crooked his digits inside of you, listening to your needy whimpers with relish. Two fingers quickly became three, the force of his thrusts never slowing down.

“I’m going to fuck you from behind, slut. But that’s how you like it, don’t you?” You sniffled, not trying to refute the claim. To be taken from behind like some animal in heat, forced to submit to the brunt of his passion... When he phrased it like that, it sounded so humiliating, so degrading. Here you were, bent and kneeling on a desk, your naked ass perked up for his viewing pleasure, just like the common slut he was accusing you of being. “Like a good little bitch.”

You didn’t deny his accusations because you knew it to be true. Your breasts only got this sensitive if you were ovulating or if you were really turned on. And there was no use denying the former, not with the way your cunt was shiny and drenched with your own fluids.

“Bend over the desk properly if you want to get fucked.”

Never before had you completed a task with so much enthusiasm. You stretched your limbs out, your feet finding purchase on the ground while your hands gripped the edge of the desk. Excitement pooled in your gut; you had never felt so eager for a fucking before. You were unsure how much time had passed since the start of the shoot, but it somehow felt like lifetimes ago. You had been ready for his cock half a century ago.

It seemed like Yoongi was done dawdling around as well. He eased the tip of his cock inside of you. There was so much of your slick and lube, that it took two, three tries before successfully pushing in. You let out a shaky breath, body shuddering. Above you, Yoongi let out a grunt, his hands kneading your reddened flesh between his fingers. He kept you open for him, his attention fixed on the way your warm walls gripped his head snugly, eager to be fed more. Unable to form coherent words, you clenched around him, attempting to draw him in deeper.

“A perfect plaything, letting me use her up however I want.” His words cut off into a growl as he bottomed out, his balls slapping against you. Your eyes watered, the girth of his hardened shaft stretching you out deliciously. Sweat beaded at your brow as you struggled to stay still for him, wanting him to use you as he pleased.

Yoongi started up an easy rhythm, each of his thrusts making you slide across the surface of the desk. You felt stimulated from all over—you stiff nipples rubbed against the polished wood while his cock worked its way inside of you. Expletives intermingled with the occasional praise; and his grunts of satisfaction coaxed out your moans of pleasure.

“Tell me, can Taehyung fuck you this good?”

Distantly, you recognized this as a line from the script and your body reacted as if on auto-pilot. “No one can fuck me as good as you.”

“Is that right? Then why did you let him inside your cunt?” A deep thrust made you choke out a high-pitched moan, the sound slutty even to your own ears. He stayed buried deep inside of you, but you barely had time to catch your breath before he tightened his fingers around your locks and pulled. Using the grip in your hair to guide you into the position he desired, he yanked you upwards, your shaking arms now propping your upper body up.

“B-because I’m a slut,” you admitted, your head hanging low in shame. You weren’t even sure if it was an act or not, but the words seemed to spur him on even more, his thrusts speeding up once again. “I like having cum inside of me.”

“A cumslut, huh?” You struggled to stay propped up, but every harsh piston of his hips made stability difficult to maintain. “Can’t go without a man’s cum filling you up. You like being a cumdump for men that much?”

“O-only yours, only for you.”

“That’s right. I own this slutty cunt.” Yoongi brought his mouth close to your ear, his teeth biting your lobe before mouthing down the side of your neck. As he left a trail of hot kisses down the column of your neck, he brought his hands up to cup your breasts, feeling them bounce in his hold with every slap of his hips against your own. You felt his breathing becoming ragged, the sound doing things to your insides.

He sunk his fingers in the supple flesh, probably leaving another set of marks to match the ones on your hips and ass, and used his hold as leverage to fuck into you faster. Every thrust inside you knocked the breath out of you—your desire spiraling to new heights with each whispered word into your ear. The pleasure started to become too much to bear and you clenched around his length to signal your approaching orgasm.

“You’re gonna cum already? Should’ve known a slut like you wouldn’t be able to control herself when fed the right cock.” He didn’t slow down at all, his cock impaling you over and over again with no reprieve in sight. You knew if he kept this up, you wouldn’t be able to hold yourself back anymore.

“Please sir, let me cum,” you begged, your plea coming out in short pants. You didn’t know which one would give out first—your legs or your arms. The only thing that kept you upright and standing were Yoongi’s hands kneading your breasts and his hips pinning yours to the desk.

Yoongi released your nipple with a hard tug, the free hand snaking up to your parted mouth. Instinctively, your lips wrapped around the invading digits, sucking it like it would a cock. “So greedy. You don’t get to make the demands here, slut. But I’ll be nice today because you took your spanking so well. Go on then, little slut.”

The fact that you couldn’t even see the fact of the person who was stuffing two of your holes made the fucking so impersonal. A new wave of shame swept over you, and you felt like you could drown in it. Your body thrashed in his hold, a lightning bolt of pleasure zapping through your entire body and making you starry-eyed. Your entire world shrunk, until all you knew was him and the thick cock spearing you open.

Yoongi’s hips stuttered, his own release in reach. You felt his length twitch inside you but he quickly pulled out, his right hand stroking his slick shaft in furious strokes. You barely registered the first spurt of semen land on your well fucked pussy, the rest of his seed painting your lower lips in fields of white.

The force of your orgasm wiped you out and you took a few seconds to regain your bearings, eyes still closed, blocking out the outside world.

It took several moments for you to be brought back to reality, spots of light still dancing in your vision whenever you blinked. Your chest heaved from exertion, your eyes watery. Your body felt incredibly light, like you could float away from the ground at any moment like a hot air balloon.

“____?” Someone repeated your name, trying to snap you out of your daze by shaking your shoulders. “Here’s some water.” A set of arms helped you sit up, and a cold glass of water was pushed into your numbed hands. “You did so well! There was no reason to be nervous, I knew you would do great.”

Belatedly, you realized that it was your agent speaking to you. He wrapped your shoulders in a pink, fluffy bathrobe—the soft fabric a welcome comfort. Seokjin showered you in praises, asking if you need anything more, but his voice faded into white noise. Your eyes flitted around the room, restless, searching.

As if feeling the weight of your gaze on him, Yoongi looked up from his phone and smiled at you. Even if his cheeks were flushed pink and his hair matted with sweat, he looked infinitely more composed than you felt. Biting the inside of your cheek, you wondered how you could possibly approach him.

A faint buzzing pulled you from your train of thought. When you looked down, you saw a message light up the screen of your phone. Your thumb swiped the surface so that the newest message could fill up the entire screen.

[unknown number] : hey. i cant wait to work with you again ;-)

[edit: short continuation.]

Although your body was thoroughly sated, there was still an eagerness that hadn’t been completely quashed. You were still drunk off your high, your body now hooked to Yoongi’s touch. You wanted a repeat. Badly.

After the initial swell of elation had ebbed, you steadied your trembling fingers to type out a hurried reply. Thank God for autocorrect was your first coherent thought. You weren’t sure if your inability to spell the simplest of words was because of your stubby thumbs or because Yoongi had fucked every last feeling out of your body, leaving you numb all over. Did it even matter? The end result was the same, either way.

A minute passed. Your thumbs stumbled across the keyboard in your rushed attempt to correctly type out your response. It took another two tries before you finally succeeded in writing a message that was 1) free of spelling mistakes and 2) simultaneously made your intentions obvious (a flirtatious winky face included for good measure). However right before you were about to hit ‘send’, a new set of vibrations put a halt to your actions.

[unknown number] : i’m jimin btw. :) the 2nd AC.

What?

[unknown number] : you look really pretty on camera :)

[unknown number] : and in real life too! not just on camera.

[unknown number] : sorry if i sound so forward. but it’s been a long time sinc—

Your brain screeched to a halt as more messages flooded in, one right after the other.

Jimin…the second assistant cameraman?

(edit added 12.08)

ɛ sequel here ! ᴈ

#legit not proofread bc i cant look at it anymore dkfljdfk #this was originally supposed to be 6k but idk what happened mY HAND SLIPPED #this is.............#just filth lmao #i have no excuses #bts smut #yoongi smut #yoongi

6K notes · View notes

axiumin · 7 years ago

Text

Snapshot | Chen x Reader

Hi, lovely! Guess who? ;) You've got Admin T here from Noona-Clock! Sending you a fluffy Jongdae request. I'll let you choose- either a Model!AU or Backstage!AU (like the Little Something MV). Looking forward to it, dear, and fighting!! ❤️ Admin T

@noona-clock Admin T, I am thrilled to bits that my first requested story is for you! I had a lot of fun with this one and may have gotten a bit carried away at times, so I hope dearly you find it to your liking. <3

Perhaps it was due to your nature as a photographer, but treasured moments stuck out to you as if frozen in time, like snapshots. After you met Jongdae, you found that there were plenty of such treasured moments.

Pairing: Chen x Reader

Genre: Fluff, Model!AU

Words: 2.5k+

It was way too early for it to be this bright.

You’d been in the business long enough to know the importance of getting an early start for the day, yet you couldn’t help but sigh as your sleep-heavy eyes squinted against the studio lights.

Still, at least you had something to make it worth being up at this time of the morning. Today, you’d be working with Jongdae, an up and coming model whose career took off quicker than anyone expected. Well, maybe not totally unexpected. You’d seen the pictures, same as anyone else: the high cheekbones, the expressive eyes, the curved mouth. The man was gorgeous and— more importantly— he photographed well.

The artist in you was thrilled at the chance to take photos of him. You may be one of many photographers working with him, but you knew that if you pulled this off well enough, your career might soar just as high as his.

You were fiddling with one of your film cameras when Jongdae arrived. He was clearly just as affected by the early morning hour as you, but even with his baseball cap and the faint circles under his eyes, he was strikingly handsome.

His handsomeness increased tenfold when he made eye contact with you and grinned, bright and charming.

“Hi, I’m Jongdae,” he introduced himself, sounding far more energetic than he looked. Butterflies erupted in your stomach; you already knew this was going to be a fantastic shoot.

“I’m Y/N,” you returned, putting your camera down so you could gesture around the studio. “What do you think?”

Jongdae looked around, taking in the lighting, the backdrops, and the props. He nodded approvingly. “I like it. I think this is going to turn out great,” he said. He wasn’t the first person to say something like that to you, but when his eyes returned to yours, you were struck by his earnestness.

You cleared your throat. “Alright, then. Good. How about we get you set up with the stylist and ready to go?” You nodded at him and turned back to your camera, watching him walk away out of the corner of your eye.

There’s something honest about photography. Sure, there’s retouching and editing that can make a picture look nothing like its reality, but the photograph itself, the original version, is one of the most truthful things in the world. You’ve seen firsthand the raw honesty of photographs: a fleeting emotion, immortalized in film; impatience, exemplified by a blurred border or overexposed brightness; the clutter and mess of humans.

But just as photographs are a reflection of the humans they capture, so too do they reflect the perspective of humans. You became a photographer so that you could share your view with the world, and you take great pains to do that, no matter what project you take on.

You had already finished setting up and double checking all of the equipment by the time the stylist was finished with Jongdae. That meant he had your full attention when he stepped into the studio lights, every detail of his appearance carefully curated, from his slightly mussed hair to the bold, contrasting colors he wore.

Now more than ever, you were eager to get started. Already, you could imagine the different details to hone in on, the different ways of capturing this man in photographs. You were still reflecting on this when he spoke.

“I’m ready to go if you are,” he said. Your eyes flicked back up to his as a confident smile spread across your face.

“Let’s do this.”

Here’s what you saw: dark hair falling into dark eyes. The sweet curve of a mouth hinting at mischief. Bright lights playing off the curve of a cheekbone. A glimpse of a strong chest hiding behind a bold shirt. A face unable to hide its honesty as it asks, “Can you see me? Do you know who I am?”

Click.

After the shoot concluded, you flipped through the stills on one of your digital cameras. You were amazed; you had expected a successful shoot with Jongdae, but you hadn’t expected nearly every photograph to come out looking this good. You cycled through more shots, impressed when you found that this guy didn’t seem to have a bad angle on his body. And by the sound of the low whistle coming from behind you, you weren’t the only one impressed.

You looked over your shoulder to see Jongdae, his eyes fixed on your camera.

“You know,” he started conversationally, “I had heard rumors that you’re good, but I didn’t expect you to be this good.”

Your face heated a bit as you shrugged.

“You’re the one who’s so unbelievably handsome that he apparently can’t take a bad picture,” you replied. Only after the words left your mouth did you realize how flirtatious they sounded. You shot Jongdae a worried look, but he was just smiling as brightly as ever.

“Let’s just meet halfway and agree that we work well together, then,” he said cheerfully.

Your prediction was right: your photoshoot with Jongdae was very successful and garnered a lot of positive attention for the both of you. You suspected this was why you found yourself working with him again, just a couple of short months after the first shoot.

This time, you didn’t have the luxury of working in your studio with your perfect lighting and your air conditioner. No, this time, you were doing a shoot in a garden. It was a beautiful location for a shoot, you readily admitted, and the late spring sunshine provided wonderful lighting for the time being. But there was still the pressure of knowing that you only had a limited amount of time to work with this lighting, and you were discomfited to find that the same sunshine that gave you said pleasant lighting was also attempting to burn through the back of your black shirt.

Still, despite any complaints you may have had about your slightly less-than-ideal conditions, you couldn’t quell the excitement that came from knowing you’d see Jongdae so soon. You tried to chalk it up to professional interest, but you couldn’t deny the part of you that just wanted to see his bright smile directed at you again.

Fortunately, it seemed Jongdae was just as excited to see you again. As soon as the stylists were finished with him, he sidled up to you, bringing with him the wonderful shade of his umbrella.

“You look hot,” he said as way of greeting. You watched, amused, he visibly processed what he just said and hurried to correct himself. “I just mean, you know, the sun is bright. And you looked—” He decided to stop while he was ahead.

“Thank you, Jongdae,” you said with a laugh. “Are you ready to get started, then?”

Grateful for the way out, Jongdae nodded. “Very.”

Here’s what you saw: sunlight dancing on bronzed skin. Soft petals resting against soft lips. Blades of grass weaving through dark hair like the delicate caress of fingers. Eyes both piercing and gentle as they say, “I see you. I know you.”

Click.

The shoot ended as the sun began its descent and took with it all the best lighting. You were far from disappointed, though; again, you couldn’t help but be impressed by how flawlessly these pictures had come out.

You heard footsteps approach from behind you and half expected history to repeat itself with a low whistle. You were surprised, then, when Jongdae spoke.

“You know, we’re not too far from my favorite cafe.”

You turned away from your camera to give Jongdae your full attention.

“Would you like to get something to eat?” he finished, smiling bright and beautiful as ever.

You smiled back.

You went home that day with several rolls of undeveloped film and a scrap of paper with a scrawled phone number.

The next time the two of you met up, it was by your own arrangement. You’d made good use of that phone number, and it was just over a week before you found time to plan a date.

“I’m a bit worried,” Jongdae admitted. You were halfway through lunch at a cafe of your choice, seated outside at a wrought-iron table that offered a lovely view of the nearby park. You felt a flash of concern, but it settled when you saw how open and relaxed Jongdae’s face was.

“What are you worried about?” you asked, idly taking a sip of your tea.

“Well, I thought I knew what I was talking about when I took you to that cafe last time, but now I’m worried that your taste in food is much better than mine. How am I supposed to impress you now?” Jongdae, bless him, actually pouted a bit.

A slow smile tugged at your lips without your permission. You comfortingly patted Jongdae’s hand, heart fluttering a bit when he turned his palm to yours and intertwined your fingers.

“Ah,” you cleared your throat. “I suppose we’ll have to keep sharing our favorite places with each other to see who really has the better taste. Don’t you think?”

His hand squeezed yours and he smiled like the sunshine.

“You know, I think you’re right.”

Here’s what you saw: fingertips grazing a painted coffee mug. The peek of a tongue chasing a fleeting taste. The flash of joy in familiar eyes. A warm hand clasping another tightly as if to say, “I want this. I want you.”

Click.

Your first date had set the tone for the beginning of your relationship. Whenever the two of you found time between your respective new projects to meet up for another date, you took turns choosing where to eat. After the cafe you had brought him to for your second date, Jongdae had made it a point of pride to try to find the best eateries— not that you particularly minded. As far as you were concerned, both of you were the winners if it meant you got good food.

With time, your friendly competition had moved on from cafes to sophisticated restaurants and again on to—

“Ice cream?” you asked dubiously.

“Yeah! I mean, it’s summer. What better way to cool down? And we both know that not all ice creams are created equal.” Jongdae tugged on your hand, leading you to an ice cream stand that he insisted was one of the best in the city.

You had to admit, once you were seated on a park bench, swirled ice cream cone in hand, Jongdae might have been onto something. And he knew it.

“It’s good, right?” he asked, watching you with an almost cheshire-like smile as you tasted your ice cream and made a show of thinking about it.

“Hmm.” You forced yourself to keep a straight face as you scrutinized your ice cream. “I’m not quite convinced yet,” you teased.

“Yah, Y/N! Don’t pretend that you don’t like it!” he whined. He wrapped an arm around your waist and leaned against you. “It’s perfect! And if you don’t like yours, then you can try mine!”

This time, your skepticism was real as you looked at his ice cream.

“Jongdae, didn’t we get the same flavor? Why would yours taste any different?”

He just shrugged and made a show of taking a bite of his ice cream.

“You never know how these things work until you give them a try, Y/N.” He suddenly leaned further into your space, face softening into a more sincere expression. “So let me give you a taste.”

Your heart hammered in your chest as he leaned forward to press his lips against yours. They were lightly cool from the ice cream, but you immediately felt warmed by the kiss. It was slow, unhurried as the summer afternoon around you, and when you pulled away, you felt almost sluggish as if you’ve been basking in warm sunlight. Warm, comfortable, right.

His face hovered close to yours, his eyes watching your face as if it held all the answers. You slowly licked your lips, chasing the feeling of the kiss, and you were surprised to find that the ice cream somehow tasted sweeter than before.

Yeah, Jongdae was onto something here.

Here’s what you saw: tree leaves casting mottled shadows across an expanse of skin. Eyes dancing and crinkling at the edges in laughter. A smear of ice cream decorating a shining face. A fierce grin softening around the edges as if to say, “I love you. I love you.”

Click.

Months later, things settled into something steady and comfortable and warm between you. It was this warmth that reminded you of the spring day when you met, even now in the dead of winter.

Unfortunately, that was just a metaphorical warmth. In reality, you were sitting bundled up on Jongdae’s couch, wearing old sweats and two pairs of fuzzy socks to keep your toes from freezing off. Really, the only thing keeping you going at this point was your personal space heater, who had taken to draping himself across your legs while you two spent a lazy afternoon watching an episode of the latest drama.

“Yah, Jongdae,” you whined when he got up from the couch, taking the heat with him.

He tossed a quick smile over his shoulder as he disappeared into his bedroom.

“Wait right there, Y/N. I promise it’ll be worth it!”

You pouted, bundling your blanket tighter around you while you waited for him to do whatever it was he was doing. After a moment, however, your face melted into a curious expression as you listened to him rummage around in his room.

He came back soon after, hands behind his back and smile bright and contagious as ever.

“I got something the other day,” he sing-songed. You were still confused, but you couldn’t help but grin back as you craned your neck to see behind his back.

“What is it?” you asked, trying to catch a glimpse.

“Ta-dah!” With flourish, Jongdae showed you the camera he was holding. It was an old polaroid in surprisingly good condition, and you were sure your puzzlement showed on your face.

“I know you’re the photographer and all,” Jongdae said, “but I thought it would be nice for me to have my own camera! That way, I can have pictures of you for once.” Your heart swelled with affection.

“Oh, Jongdae,” you sighed, voice halfway between teasing and dreamy.

Jongdae tilted your face up to be level with his, eyes dancing.

“I love you, you know,” he said, just before kissing you.

It was as slow and sweet as your first kiss, and you sighed softly as he pulled away, far too soon for your liking. You had barely opened your eyes to look at him again when you heard the click of a camera shutter.

You gasped, your shocked expression making Jongdae snicker as he waited for the instant film to finish exiting the camera. He held it up victoriously, and you grumbled a bit even as you pressed against his side, waiting for the film to develop.

As you watched your form slowly materialized in the photograph, you felt more keenly than ever the love you held for this man.

Here’s what he saw: wisps of hair falling softly against a sweet face. Cheeks flushing with warmth and affection. Lips parting as if to call after someone. Half-lidded eyes confessing without fear, “You are my moment. You are my forever.”

Click.

#exo #exo one shot #exo imagines #exo scenarios #kpop one shot #kpop imagimes #kpop scenarios #chen #exo chen #jongdae #kim jongdae #exo jongdae #chen one shot #jongdae one shot #my writing

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cha0ticmimzy · 6 years ago

Text

Chapter IV: Work

Author’s Notes: A little reprieve, and a peek into Propmto’s personal life. Plus, a small shock, and a connection is made. Word Count: 2391 Warnings: None for this chapter. Rating: Teen for this chapter.

“We live in an age where everything is staged.”-Jon Bellion, Woke The F*ck Up

“So, listen…” Dino began, making Prompto freeze and look down at his keyboard, suddenly overwhelm with guilt. “Look, I ain’t mad at ya or anythin’, but… I gotta know, did ya manage to get any pictures? I know you were all cooped up in a hospital room an’ all but…” Dino trailed off, leaning his hip against Prompto’s desk. Dino wasn’t a really imposing man, not really, but he could be unnerving when he wanted to be. Especially with how light his eyes were. They were almost unearthly, if he were being honest.

Oh, right. Photographs.

“Yeah! Yeah, I got some- hang on…” Pushing his glasses up his nose, he quickly turned his attention to his computer, pulling up the file with a nervous grin. He hadn’t even had the time to look through the photographs yet, let alone retouch any of them. In fact, ever since his accidental meeting with Regis and then being threatened by Gladiolus, all he’d done was sleep. Then again, considering how he had still been healing, that wasn’t very shocking.

“Lemme just…” Tongue poking out from between his lips, he double clicked and brought up the first picture of the cars arriving before the Citadel. The next was a close-up shot of the bodyguard whose name he knew now to be Nyx Ulric- actually, the next few shots were of him. He could hear Dino whistling softly in surprise behind him, making him sit up straighter, pride swelling up within his chest. “Told ya I’d get them,” he teased, looking up at his boss as the next picture came up, this one of Sylva, Lunafreya, Ravus, and his fiancée, Aurora. “The girl’s name is Aurora; family’s upper class Tenebraen, fiancée to Ravus Nox Fleuret.”

“Ya did good, kid. I’m impressed. Go in and retouch some of ‘em, and then send t’me.” Dino praised with a grin, reaching down to ruffle Prompto’s hair before leaving Prompto’s office, pulling his phone out. Prompto leaned back in his chair, a bright grin on his face as he nodded to himself.

“Hell yes I did good. There ain’t a better photographer in Insomnia than me!” He whispered, doing a little dance in his chair before accidentally pushing his chair back, prompting a squeak to escape him as he spun quickly. “NONONONO- Aw, man. I just got those magazines organized!” He whined, watching as the pile fell to the floor.

“Aurora’s her name. Didn’t get much else outta him, but I’ve got pictures. That is, if you got money…”

“Don’t you worry, you’ll get your money. As soon as I have those pictures…”

“Right, right. Whattya want wit’ him anyways? He ain’t no one, not that I can tell. Family ain’t rich and he ain’t a looker…”

“Don’t worry yourself with what I want. You just send those images along to me, pet.”

“Yessir.” Dino sighed, ending the call with a frown as he pocketed his phone. He rubbed the back of his neck, looking over his shoulder at the blond. Oh, well. It wasn’t his problem. Not now, anyways. Maybe later. Maybe not. He’d decide when he got his money.

“So, then I sort of… Fumbled my words? And it was just- they were so intense, Cindy! So. Fricken. Intense.” Prompto whined, collapsing down onto the red leather couch beside the mechanic, who let out a soft laugh.

“Well, whaddya expect? They ain’t your run of the mill folk, now.” She replied with a shrug as she reached over, grabbing a container of fried rice. “But I’on want you t’go near ‘em anymore, y’hear? Vamps and shifters- they ain’t good news, Prom.” Sighing, she shrugged, reaching over Prompto’s leg to grab hold of a separate container containing lamb in black pepper sauce. “I’m jus’ tryin’ ta look out for you, you know that.”

“I know, I know…” Prompto muttered, grabbing a container of Chow Fun and dumping the contents of his own General Tsao’s Chicken and ginger beef into, quickly mixing the contents together. “But- Cindy, you wouldn’t believe the way these guys look! Like, ho my god. Noctis’ eyes are so… Pretty? And the girl- Aurora- was so nice and gentle! She even petted my head, Cindy!” He whined, leaning over to all but rest majority of his weight on the blond.

“Buddy, I ain’t gonna argue with you. They are very pretty, even I can’t deny that. But I still want you t’be careful.” Sighing, she leaned over and pressed a kiss to his temple, making Prompto freeze up, cheeks flushing as he quickly sat up and reached for the remote. “Oh, oh! My favorite show is on! Amber’s Anatomy!” She squealed, hunkering down into the couch with a bright grin. “I wanna know if Amber White is gonna go with McDreary or if she gonna leave him behind!”

“I have no idea what you just said but okay,” Prompto shrugged, stuffing his face with noodles and chicken and beef, groaning at the taste. Gods above, he loved takeout more than anything. Though, Galahdian takeout was far better, he’d settle for classic Insomnian. “Okay, so who’s who?”

“Okay, so, Amber is the lead character, righ’? And she’s a doctor who gets all tangled up in a messy love triangle with Doctor Terrier and this other lady, and her mother was a doctor, too! And then there’s…”

He’d ended up crashing on Cindy’s couch, Cindy falling asleep in the recliner, the sounds of Amber’s Anatomy in the background. By the time morning came, Cindy was already in the shower singing along to some old country song, and Prompto was left to throw out all their trash from the night before. They’d fallen asleep before they could manage to save any of the takeout, sadly.

Humming, he went to work cleaning, picking up the boxes and tossing them into the trash bag. The sound of the bathroom door opening made him look up, only to catch Cindy shuffling out in a bright blue, fuzzy robe, her hair hanging in damp ringlets around her face. Wow, she looked like an angel…

“Aw, shuga! You don’ gotta go an’ clean up all this by yourself!” Cindy cooed, a grin spreading across her lips as she leaned against the bathroom door. “But it is most definitely a welcome gesture.” Yawning, she made her way over to her bedroom the door falling shut behind her. “I can whip us up some grub after I get dressed!” She hollered, making Prompto pause, box of rice almost tipping over.

“Sure, sounds great!” He yelled back, going back to his job of lifting the trash bag out of the trash and tying it closed. Lifting it up with a grunt, he walked over to the trash chute and let it fall down before turning and leaning against the wall with a yawn. Normally, he’d go for a run now, but the promise of Cindy’s cooking kept him here. A skip day wouldn’t hurt, right? Right. At least, that was his reasoning.

“Now, what’re we feelin’ this mornin’? Personally, I wanna scarf down some omlettes…”

Breakfast done, kitchen cleaned, Prompto was about to head out when a knock on the door made him pause. “C’n ya get that?” Cindy called from her bedroom. “I would but I got half a face of makeup on and I don’ wanna scare no ones!” Snorting, the blond rolled his eyes and set his bag down, walking over to the front door. He looked through the peephole, only to be greeted with the sight of a red and black sweater. And a rather… Ample. Chest. Coughing, he quickly unlatched the lock and swung the door open, cornflower blue hues widening at the sight.

“Is Cindy home?” The woman asked, jade hues sizing him up. Prompto suddenly felt incredibly small compared to this woman- her piercing gaze, the silver hair that was tied up in a high pony tail, the menacing motorcycle boots… “Hey, kid. If Cindy isn’t home, just tell me instead of staring at me like you’ve never seen a woman before.”

Startling, Prompto quickly took a step back. “Ye-yeah, she’s in her room…” He trailed off, watching as the woman stepped past him with a smirk, throwing a wink in his direction. Squeaking in a rather unmanly way, he quickly shut the door and watched her poke her head into Cindy’s bedroom, prompting a squeal of delight.

“Aranea! I didn’t know you’d be in today!” Cindy exclaimed, and threw her arms around Aranea’s shoulders. Oh. Oh. So this was Cindy’s girlfriend- the motorcycle girl. The one who worked as a battlefield photographer. The one that Prompto may or may not have been extremely jealous over when he first found out that Cindy wasn’t interested in men at all. “Prompto, c’mere! I wan’ ya t’meet Aranea!” Cindy yelled, and without realizing it, he was moving towards the pair.

“Aranea, meet Prompto! He’s my buddy- I’ve known him for over six years now!” Cindy introduced with a grin, winking at Prompto. “Prompto, meet Aranea. Y’know we’ve been dating for over a year now- the light of my life.” She flushed, leaning into Aranea. “I’ve been wantin’ y’all to meet for a while now! But with Aranea’s crazy schedulin’ and yer crazy schedulin’… At least y’all getta meet now!”

Prompto shifted, flashing a small smile before holding his hand out. “Nice to meet you!” He managed to get out before Aranea took hold of his hand in a strong grip.

“Like wise.” She replied in a smooth voice that sent chills across his skin. Something seemed… Familiar about her. He couldn’t place it, though. Oh, well. It wasn’t important. “Anyway, I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d drop by to see my favorite girl.” She explained, leaning over to peck Cindy’s cheek.

Clearing his throat, Prompto rubbed the back of his head and began backing away. “I’ll just leave you guys alone…” With that, he quickly grabbed his bag and quickly left the apartment, the sound of Cindy hollering ‘bye’ echoing in the hallway. He couldn’t shake the feeling of familiarity from his conscience- that woman, Aranea… He knew he had seen her before. Her voice, her eyes… They were so familiar.

Maybe he was just imagining things. Maybe he’d seen her in a crowd once, or maybe at a party. Yeah, that was it.

… Hopefully.

The rest of his day was uneventful, what with it being Saturday and all, he hadn’t needed to go into work. Though, he could have spent it going through all the pictures he’d taken before the accident, but… Nah. Instead, he’d gone out and treated himself to a sushi dinner, making sure to stop by the market on the way home to pick up food for breakfast (and some spare fish for the cats at the apartment complex).

Being home now, with Insolo curled up against him, was comforting. To be surrounded with familiarity. He was warm, and comfortable, and his bed was comfortable and the rain hitting against the glass of his window was perfect…

He fell asleep.

Or, at least, he thought he was asleep. But he was… Outside? And there was snow on the ground, and all around him. This wasn’t the park- or, well, anywhere he was familiar with. At least, not personally. Was this Niflheim? The layout looked the same form the pictures he’d seen in high school. But he wasn’t cold- shouldn’t he be cold? It was snowy, the wind was blowing- he could hear it howling.

Wait…

That wasn’t the wind.

Spinning around, he came face to face with a large black wolf, eyes as black as it’s fur. He tried to scream, but no noise came out. No noise, even as the light began to fade and the wolf began to lurk closer and closer. He fell to his knees, ready to accept his fate when a new sound ripped through the air. A cry. A baby’s cry. He pushed himself up, spinning around, looking for the wolf but not finding him. Brows furrowing, he turned, and stilled. Two babies, swaddled up, were left on a large flat stone.

He walked closer to them, snow crunching beneath his feet, a hand outstretched. But something wasn’t right- they weren’t moving. They weren’t making any noise. It wasn’t right. When he reached them, he leaned closer, and quickly moved back, eyes widening in surprise. They were babies, yes- but their throats were… Their throats were ripped out. Blood stained their blankets, and the stone around them. A growl sounded over his shoulder, making him turn. “You were never supposed to leave.” The jaws came down, closing around his throat-

Prompto jolted awake, sitting up in bed with the remnants of a yell leaving his lips. He quickly slipped from his head and ran to the bathroom, doubling over the toilet to dry heave. His heart was pounding in his chest- was he having a heart attack? Or just an anxiety attack? He didn’t know, he didn’t care. But it hurt.

Pushing up from the toilet, he stepped over to the sink and ran the tap cold, cupping the water in his hands and splashing his face with it. Looking up at his reflection, he startled, surprised at the… Lilac? Hues that stared back at him. Blinking, he leaned forward, only to see that his eyes were back to their normal blue…

Shaking his head, he shuffled back to his bed, calling Insolo back to cuddle. Maybe he was just… Sleep deprived. Yeah. That would make sense- people started to hallucinate when they were sleep deprived! That’s what was wrong.

“It’s him. I’m certain of it.” The woman spoke into the phone quietly, black coat pulled tight around her, cloaking her in the shadows. “Blond hair, blue eyes, freckles… What do you want me to do?”

“Nothing. Do nothing. Raise no suspicion. We got what we wanted.” The voice replied, sounding relieved and stressed at the same time. The woman nodded and ended the call, slipping her phone back into a pocket in her coat.

“Come back to bed,” the voice of her lover called, pulling her back into the apartment with a smile curling her lips, jade hues dancing in amusement.

#final fantasy xv #ffxv #final fantasy xv fanfiction #prompto argentum #cindy aurum #aranea highwind #dino ghiranze #bis vivit qui bene vivit #bvqbv #my writing

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