#ironically i'm most proud of the plastic stand

[pepperly]

Had some nasty artblock for a while (maybe I still have it, we'll see about artfight warming me back up, among other things >:3c ) so I explored a little bit with 3D work and coding as my creative outputs.

[silantryoo]

ENCHANTED [ WRITTEN ] — in my dreams

y/n's first recital.

WARNINGS ; absent parents, implied paparazzi (1.8k)

y/n loved her grandparents.

she dreamt of them often. from the fine china on their walls, the real gold against the porcelain, to the smile lines they'd get when they talked to her, delighted as she performed for them. her childhood home smelt like home cooked meals, and the absence of mom.

her awards littered the staircase wall, ascending up to her room, locked with all the memories

they always told her how eerily similar she was to her mother, how she was meant to perform, to be on stage. each note she belted, each verse she'd utter, they'd be the first in the stands to cheer. y/n could hear them from the darkness, from the other side of the curtain.

and in her dreams, her mother would be there too.

no one would ask why her parents were so old, and she wouldn't have to explain that they weren't her parents. she'd be free of hearing 'i'm so sorry' or 'i didn't know'. y/n could finally have peace of mind, not waiting near the entrance of the auditorium just in hopes that her mother would show up, to prove to them (and herself) that her mom did exist.

her mother show up, walking up to her and kissing her forehead in the middle of the crowd where everyone could see them, neither of them wearing masks, and no camera pointed at the idol.

and after each recital, each play, her mother could finally be proud of her.

her mom would hold her hand, bring her the roses that she'd leave her child for, and y/n would feel like she wasn't an accident.

(sometimes, y/n wished her mother didn't try to do the best she could. that way, she could blame someone, someone that wasn't herself.)

y/n had always thought - known - that her mom was the most beautiful and most talented person in the world.

when she was younger, when her mother still had the time to be around, y/n was enthralled with everything that she did. the warmth of her embrace, the soft humming of the young idol lulling her to sleep. the way her mom seemed to smile at her like she cared enough to stay, that her work wasn't precedent to her daughter.

and to y/n, her mom was her world. she wanted to make her mom proud, to keep her smile - her focus - on her. she wanted her mom to brag about her to her coworkers, to show them pictures of her, to tell them that she was her 'mini-me'.

but her mother liked to keep secrets, and y/n was her biggest.

y/n was four-years-old the first time her mother had made an empty promise.

she had asked her grandma to iron her outfit, a gold dress embezzled with fake diamonds, the skirt extra puffed up to look as fancy as possible. her grandpa helped her buff her dance shoes, and although the fumes made her dizzy, it was worth it to see her reflection staring back at her.

her mom was coming tomorrow, and y/n needed to perform just like her, as perfectly as her mother on screen.

it was hard on the young girl most days. all of her interactions - although, one could barely call them interactions - were her sitting in front of a tv screen, playing reruns of her mom's performances. four months of listening to her mom's voice through the radio, of sneaking behind her grandparents' backs to watch recordings of her mother's interviews.

and finally, finally, tomorrow y/n could show her mom just how great she had gotten, how similar they were.

her bedside alarm rang, a high pitched ringing filling her tiny room.

y/n rushed out of her room as if her feet were blazing, the soles burning every step she took. her mom was finally off work, her last day of recordings and promotions finally finished.

"woah, wait a second."

she squealed as her grandfather picked her up, refusing to let her go despite y/n's thrashing and squirming.

"mommy's done!" her voice was urgent, her body thrumming with excitement. "i need to talk to her now!"

her eyes were locked onto the phone, and from a couple feet away, she could feel it mocking her. the sleek black plastic gleamed against the light, and y/n felt her desperation multiply as the seconds went by.

"that's past your bedtime, princess." her grandfather scolded her softly just as her grandmother walked into the living room. "your mommy's gonna be very mad at us if we let you."

"she doesn't have to know." y/n reasoned, still squirming. the kwon's are persistent, after all. "and you're her mommy and daddy, so she can't get mad at you."

her grandparents looked at each other, silently noting how similar y/n was to their own daughter. if not for her looks, she was terrifyingly identical to her mother.

"that's not how that works, y/n." her grandmother pinched her cheek. "good try."

y/n looked at the older kwon, her grandmother's short cut hair and her warm kind eyes both stern and understanding.

she knew not to try to push any further, especially this late into the night. y/n had asked so much from them today, and she didn't wanna tire them out.

her friends at pre-school always talked about how tired their grandparents were, how soft-spoken and lenient they had become. she had even seen some of them up close, their hair grey, the smile lines visible on their eyes.

y/n sometimes wondered why her grandparents were different, why they looked so young and had so much energy.

"can mommy pick me up tomorrow after she comes back then?" y/n practically bounced in her seat, the thought of finally seeing her mother making her shake. "i wanna show her my dress before we go."

y/n stared at her grandparents, the only response echoing throughout the room being the hum of the ac. she watched as their eyes met, her grandmother shaking her head.

it was rare to see her grandma so upset. in fact, the only time y/n remembered her like that was when her uncle broke his hand before his recital.

"princess..."

she felt the soft touch of her grandmother's kiss on the side of her head, right where her mom used to place her lips while they watched tv.

y/n could almost feel like her mom was beside her...

almost.

"she's staying there for a bit."

her mother tried everything she could to be there. she knew it back then, her mom seemingly exhausted time after time, eyebags hanging from the twenty-two-year-old's eyes. y/n didn't want to be selfish. she knew her mom needed time to herself, to focus on work, to rest.

but all she wanted was her mom.

"oh." y/n's mom had always worried that her daughter was too naive, too much like her. "but she's still coming for my dance tomorrow, right? it's at night time, so mommy can."

her grandmother stared into her eyes.

that look, the one that her grandma rarely used, was back. it was different, however. it was angrier, filled with hurt. it was laced with every emotion that y/n should've felt right then - the disappointment, the betrayal.

y/n could never hate her mom no matter how hard she tried to.

"call her."

"youngja-"

"call. her."

her grandfather grabbed the phone, and y/n watched as he dialed her mom's phone number. she muttered out each number, reciting it like she had months ago when her mother said she'd be away for a while. it was tattooed in the forefront of her mind, sitting idly, ready for the day that y/n decided to use it.

it was only for emergencies, her mother said.

"here you go, princess."

her grandfather handed her the phone, y/n pressing it against her ear. it rung and rung, like a clock ticking away, counting down the moments she could finally hug her mom again.

"mom? why are you calling late? is everything okay with y/n?"

y/n smiled. "hi, mommy!"

"baby, hey." she closed her eyes, listening to the soothing sound of her mom's voice. "it's late. why are you still awake?"

she glanced at the clock. 11pm. she was supposed to be asleep two hours ago.

"um, i was gonna go sleep now." y/n wasn't exactly lying. she was, after she'd call her mom, obviously.

"good. you need to sleep lots to grow."

"i know." y/n fiddled with the phone in her hand, her mind drifting to the dress in her room, and the shoes in her bag. "can you come early tomorrow and pick me up from school?"

the line went quiet, and for the first time, y/n felt her mom hesitate to choose her. it was the first time that ugly feeling appeared in her gut, but the young girl didn't know what it was. all she felt was the heaviness of her breath, and suddenly, her lungs felt smaller than before.

"baby..."

the four-year-old felt like she was drowning on air.

"please?" her voice was tiny, and if she wasn't so distressed, y/n would've seen the look on her grandparents' faces. "i practiced my dance and everything! plus, you could finally tell them that you're my real mommy, not grandma."

the buzzing through the line, the sign that the connection was still there, echoed into y/n's ear.

it felt harder to breathe, harder to believe that everything would work out like it always did.

"baby..." it was a tone that y/n heard for the first time that day, but one she'd learn to get used to as the years passed. "i can't go tomorrow."

her gold dress hung high against her door, her hard work fluttering in the soft breeze of the ac, forgotten just like her. her shoes, snuggly placed in her bag, polished with her sweat and tears, provided no sense of pride anymore.

y/n just wanted her mom.

"oh." the young kwon didn't recognize her own voice, her mind buzzing. "are you okay?"

"i'm okay. just super busy."

she wished her mother wasn't 'super busy' all the time, that she could be just her mom just this once.

"i'm sorry, princess."

she was sorry too, sometimes. she was sorry that she was the reason her grandma was mad at her mom a lot. she felt horrible how her uncles looked at her in pity, and how her grandparents were just fill-ins for the person who should've been there.

"it's okay." y/n felt tears stream down her cheeks, the corners of her eyes stinging. "i love you."

"i love you too." her mother always kept those words sincere in tone, but not in action. "sleep well, princess."

y/n wasn't gonna sleep tonight, not even a single blink.

"bye bye."

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[mintmatcha]

"Why do you even have that? You don't smoke."

Fukunaga looks up to meet your eyes, flicking the wheel of the lighter over and over again. The flame never catches; the shimmer of sparks lighting his face for a flash every couple of seconds, shining so bright against his wide, wide eyes. Usually, there's a hint of humor on his face -some quirk of his brow or turn of his lips- but here, in the back alley behind your apartment building, he looks sullen.

"Maybe I do now." Flick, flick, flick. The planes of his face seem more severe in dark. "You don't know me."

"You've never smoked in your life because your grandma had an oxygen tank and the sound scared you as a kid." you wedge yourself on to the step new to him. The dumpster is ripe from the summer heat, but underneath you can smell Shohei's 'cologne' - a Bath and Bodyworks spray you found last year for 75% off. "I know you good enough to know something's wrong."

He purses his lips tight enough their pink almost disappears.

"My standup routine flopped last night. Like, really badly." he clicks his tongue against his teeth, "Pa-splash- just like a clumsy kid in a pool. Big old belly flop."

You just nod. It's not the first time. Probably won't be the last.

"And its stupid, 'cause I've failed so many times before, but this time just-" he laughs, then crumples forward until his head hangs between his knees. "I think I'm giving up comedy."

You rub his back slowly, dragging your nails across the fabric. The hairs in the back of his neck stand at the sensation and he shivers despite the heat. You both sit in silence for a while- waiting for nothing and everything.

"I think you're being a bit dramatic." you whisper.

"I failed, baby." Fukunaga sighs, "I played the game and I lost."

You pull your hand away and he makes a pathetic sound; you almost chuckle before starting to scratch again.

"Well, congrats. Losing is something a lot of people can't do."

He finally peeks up with a deadpan glare. "Usually I love a joke, but this isn't the right time-"

"I'm serious! Losing means that you tried- and I lot of people won't even try." you say, "Persuing your dreams is hard. Really fucking hard. Like, so hard most people just day dream about it their whole lives. Be upset, mope and lick your wounds or whatever-"

You nudge him with your elbow. "But don't quit because you 'failed' one time. Be proud of it."

Your boyfriend blinks slowly as he processes this. "Are you going to be proud of me if I keep failing? What if I never make it big? What if I'm always a part time chef at a shitty restaurant?"

"First off, you're never going to succeed if you quit." you nudge him with your elbow and he nudges back a bit harder, the corner of his lips curling into their usually feline smile, "Secondly, I'm always proud of you. No matter what. Thirdly- I love your shitty restaurant and their shitty fries."

Fukunaga sighs, lighter this time, before nuzzling into your side. "I-- Thanks."

You lean into him, reaching for his hand. He grips you around the thin piece of plastic.

"Where'd you get the lighter, Sho?" you ask after a moment.

He grins wide. "Oh, it was sitting out here next to the dumpster. Thought it'd be some nice dramatic ironic story device or something."

"Ew, Shohei, put that down." you gag, quickly pulling your hand away, "I take it back- maybe I'm not always proud of you."

"Nope! Too late!" Fukunaga says, "I'll never forget you said that for the rest of my life!"

[getdownkyh]

Not Hurt (m) | Young K | smut, gang member!Young K | 2.2k words

tw : mentions of blood

The metallic smell of blood and rust forced a sigh out of your hollow chest, and though the bedroom lights were dim, his outline was clear. Tall, broad shoulders making his way across the room. Tapping his toes impatiently while he sent a quick text, before throwing his phone on the bed and peeling his shirt off, you thought to yourself maybe he too, was starting to get bothered by the iron-like stench.

He left the bathroom door slightly ajar, the sound of hot water and his groans making you roll your eyes, but it was your cue. Your cue to pull out the white box stashed in the bedside drawer, walking inside the bathroom and pushing yourself up the counter, legs swinging as you waited for him to finish showering.

Your mind wandered as you observed the intensity of the red in the water flowing into the drain gradually decreasing, until the water was almost clear. He shot you a wink through the foggy glass separating the both of you and you wanted nothing more than to wipe off the smug expression he had on his face. His stupidly handsome face, even when it was littered with cuts and bruises threatening to form.

Wrapping his towel securely around his hips, he walked out, water dripping through the ends of his jet black bangs. His face lit up as he walked closer towards you, holding one hand out to touch your face, only for you to slap a cold pack into his hand, looking at him threateningly.

“Babe..”

You held his wrist and pushed the cold pack towards his bruised left cheek. “Hold still.”

Parting your legs, you tugged him closer towards you by the biceps, wiping the stray droplets of water on his face with a small towel, flinching when he winced as you dabbed on an open cut above his left brow, the crimson stain seeping through the handkerchief in your hand. A heavy, exasperated sigh left your mouth, an expression of disappointment but also done on purpose to ignite a feeling of guilt inside him.

You didn’t know if he was capable of feeling guilty, but at this point you didn’t have much choice.

Fishing a cotton swab out of the plastic packaging, you mumbled curse words as you squeezed the ointment onto the tip. Your face was stern, but your heart was thumping in worry as you delicately applied the medication across the cut, eyes flitting nervously towards his. You worked in silence, hoping the tension would rid him with guilt, your hands skillfully replacing the cotton swabs, tracing every cut on his face, one across the cheekbone, one across the jaw, another, particularly larger one at the junction where his shoulder and neck met. You shivered thinking of the what ifs, if the cut was deeper, if it was closer to his vein; you shook your head to rid the bitter taste in your mouth.

When you took his hand in yours, to nurse the bruised and cut knuckles, he was quick to press a kiss on your hand, grinning at you. You sighed again, ignoring him as you taped the gauze, before struggling with the bandage for a short while, though muscle memory kicked in and soon you were wrapping his knuckles safely inside the white fabric.

He flicked his wrist a few times, admiring the bandage like one would on freshly manicured nails, “Thanks. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

His words were sincere but you felt like you were being made fun of.

“Is this fun for you?” Your first words of the night caused him to furrow his eyebrows at you.

“Babe..”

“Don’t babe me now, Younghyun.” Cradling his face in your hands, you tilted his jaw upwards to look at you, both your pupils shaking at the eye contact. “Every night I feel like I really need to take one last good look at you.. Before you lose yourself or you lose me.”

“Don’t say that..”

“I’m serious. I do not know how to make it clearer to you that this," you let your thumb ghost over a nick, "it doesn't hurt just you, it hurts me.”

Slowly, ever so carefully, his arms found their way around your waist, and you wished you had the willpower to push him away, but his gentle, comforting hold was just what you needed, a temporary bandaid for your emotional distress. Although the irony of it all was him being the source of the distress.

Tucking your chin on his shoulder, you blinked your tears away, "I wish things were different."

There was a slight offended tone in voice as he replied, "Different how?"

"I don't know. But I can't keep doing this."

He pulled back, studying your eyes with his, thumb delicately wiping your moist cheek and tucking your hair behind your ear. "Are you going to leave me?"

"Can't you leave them instead? We'll figure something out. I'll talk to Sungjin, we both know he has a soft spot for me."

"Babe, you know that's not how things work.. Sungjin,-" he linked his hand with yours as he continued saying things you already knew he would say, "-has a soft spot for you because he considers you family. And that means if anything happens to me-"

"Don't."

"-if anything happens to me, I know the gang will take care of you."

"If it's not you, I don't want it."

He laughed. "Wow, you're so obsessed with me."

"Younghyun, I'm serious."

"Okay, fine. But I am, too. You can't do this to me, especially not tonight, when things aren't even that bad. You've seen me in worse states."

And maybe it was the sincere look in his eyes, or the way his hands were gently roaming over your skin, or the way he was leaning closer and closer towards you, but it got you realizing you may not be able to live like this, but you definitely wouldn't be able to live without him.

Cradling his face in your hands, being wary of where you place your fingers as to not press on any wound, your eyes roamed over his face, finding yourself smiling softly, involuntarily, as if on reflex. Leaning in, tilting your head to the side, you kissed him as delicately as you could.

There was no urgency in the kiss, just your lips lazily moving across each other's, movements restrained, as if one of you was going to break if you kissed harder.

"I won't let you go to sleep hurting."

The first grunt that left his mouth signalled the beginning of him breaking. Fingers now digging deeper into the skin of your waist, and you gasped, stomach tensing when you felt him pulling you closer towards him, your clothed core brushing against his lower abdomen. You didn't realise when he lost the towel, but his bare skin felt so warm against your centre and you found yourself clenching around nothing, eliciting a chuckle from him at your not so subtle squirming.

His hand made quick work of pushing your panties to the side, his fingers finding your slit as his thumb stroked your bundle of nerves teasingly slow. He slid his middle finger up and down your slit, pressing harder every time your body trembled.

"You get wet so fast for me, it's cute."

If your face wasn't already burning up from the teasing, that definitely would've made you inappropriately warm in a second. It felt like you were getting molten lava poured over you at the moment. All you could do was hum to suppress your moan, head and hands shaking to find something to hold on to, to ground yourself as best as you could before losing it all to him that night.

Wrapping your hands around his wrist, you carefully leaned backwards, creating space between your torsos and pushing your core closer towards him. The promise of an orgasm was making you desperately compliant, but who wouldn't, when his finger was sliding in and out of your slick hole, pace so unhurried you could feel him pushing deeper and deeper, occasionally flicking his wrist to open you up at a different angle.

Your grip on his wrist was getting tighter, but it didn't seem to faze him as he inserted another finger in, your eyes entranced at the sight of his fingers moving in and out of you, getting coated with the glistening release over time, his eyes fixed on your face, licking his bottom lip and groaning to hold himself in place, fighting the urge to push you down and fuck you senselessly on the bathroom counter.

At least not until you cummed first.

As his pace got faster and faster and your cunt got tighter and tighter around his fingers, he pushed deeper, stilling for a short second before rubbing the delicious spot inside with the tip of his fingers, pushing his palm to pulse against your clit simultaneously.

The cries of pleasure weaved into curse words and failed attempts at vocalising the full syllables of his name indicated your first high of the night. Your chest heaved as you felt him pulling out, almost thanking him for sparing you from the overstimulation. But your relief didn't last long as you felt him attaching his lips to your swollen clit, licking and sucking on the reddened bud.

Squirming in discomfort, you whined and begged, although it was probably counterproductive on your part, as all your whines did was rile him up even more, pressing his face deeper into your sopping centre, tongue licking through your slit, moving upwards before reclaiming your most sensitive nub into his mouth again.

Your flailing arms knocked some of the products off the counter, but none of you seemed to care. For obvious reasons. The moment the words "Fuck, Younghyun-" left your lips, he was quick to insert and pump two fingers inside your hole again, finger fucking and eating you out as you orgasmed over his face.

There was an exact 3 seconds where you blacked out on the counter as he kissed your inner thighs before standing up and tugging you off the counter. The way your legs were barely supporting your own body and your blanked out state of mind barely registering what was happening worked in his favor as he easily manhandled and spun you around to face the mirror.

You were slightly embarrassed at how disoriented you looked but the way Younghyun was looking at your reflection, grin proud but eyes full of love, it made you didn't really mind of the way you looked.

When the head of his member breached your entrance, Younghyun stilled for a moment, eyes wary of your expression. "More," you whined, pushing your hips closer towards him to take him deeper.

Fully sheathed inside you, he brought his lips close to your ear, gazes meeting on the reflection in the mirror.

"How do you want it tonight? Do you want me to go slow?" He pressed a kiss to your temple before continuing, "Or fast?"

The verbal answer never left your mouth, but the way you clenched around him at the latter choice got him chuckling. "Got it."

Bringing both hands to hold you by the hips, he wasted no time as he started pounding into you. Your arms shook as you tried to stabilise yourself on the counter, and your legs losing their strength over the minute was making it even harder for you.

Younghyun took a step forward, pushing your body towards the counter, your clit rubbing the hard surface with every thrust and -you didnt know it was possible- increased his pace.

"Fuck, how are you still this tight even after 2 orgasms?"

The involuntary flutter of your walls at his dirty words got him grunting, wrapping an arm around your waist, as the other went to hold you by the jaw, forcing you to look at your own reflection.

Eyelids heavy, you begged, "I'm close, please Younghyun."

The friction on your clit by the piece of furniture pressing against it, the girth of his member sliding in and out of you, and the faint sting from his nails digging into your skin were pushing you closer and closer towards your release.

"Do it. Let me see you cum."

Knees buckling and body trembling, you fell apart in his hold, nails clawing at his arm. The intense orgasm caused your walls to clamp even tighter around him, and right when you were a quivering mess in his arms, he reached his release too, burying his nails even deeper into your skin as he climaxed inside of you.

Both of you were bent forward and panting, still joined as one, his arms slowly sliding down to join yours by the counter. "Shit, Younghyun, your bandage fell off." You twisted under him, reaching out to fix the damage.

He softened at how despite it all, your love and care for him was real. Grunting heavily from above you, he chose to point out the other obvious instead, "Babe, you were a literal trembling mess when you orgasmed around my dick minutes ago. You have time to worry about that?"

The way you subtly clenched around him again got him chuckling as he pressed another kiss to your shoulder. "No, don't do that. I can go all night but I'd rather not overwork you tonight."