#its acting or barista-ing

[unclefungusthegoat]

Someday I will go to an admin job interview and NOT talk about my career as an actor and life as a drama student and then have to be reminded by the panellists that this isn't a creative job, but apparently that day is not today

[inf3ct3dd]

HOT TO GO!

warnings: gay ppl (ewwww omg 🙄🙄)

authors note: im a sucker for a barista au, what can i say 😕 also im obsessed w this song rn

5,6,5-6-7-8!

you started prepping the coffee beans, pouring them into a large class container while you moved your head back and forth, music blasting through your headphones.

you loved working the opening shift. most people definitely would not, but giving that you had an insane sleep schedule and were already awake at 4am, you decided to take it.

your favorite part? you worked by yourself.

you had always loved doing weird shit in your room. acting out fake scenarios, having fake concerts, dancing around to music, girly shit!!! but having a roommate, a very reserved quiet girl named amy who went to sleep at 9pm every night (weirdoooo…) you didn’t have very much…freedom.

but the opening shift? you could be as weird as you wanted to. it was basically like your room, if your room was a coffee shop.

you walked into the supply room, still dancing around to your music. you were grabbing random milks and flavorings to bring back to the front, when you started singing into one of the milk containers as you walked back.

you set it down in its proper place, now spinning yourself around and checking that everything was in its place. you bounced on your feet, music still blaring in your ears.

“H-O-T-T-O-G-O U CAN TAKE ME HOT TO GO!”

you suddenly had a background in cheer, singing along to the chant in the song and shaping your arms into the letters, adding in your own random choreography you made up.

you look at the clock, reading [4:45 AM], indicating you’ll be opening soon.

most people didn’t show up til at least 5:30, so you knew you had nothing to worry about, deciding to make yourself a drink.

well, what you cant see cant hurt you, right?

a girl approached the glass entrance of the coffee shop, stopping to read the hours.

you were still lost in your own world, mixing your chai latte while dancing and singing behind the counter. you were very into it, committing to the fake choreo you made yourself for the chorus. you mixed your chai and oat milk together, shaking them in the mixing cup while moving your hips back and forth and switching sides with the cup you were shaking.

the girl quickly noticed you, and a smile crept onto her face as she watched you move around. you didn’t notice her at all, still lost in your musical barista-ing.

you effortlessly scooped some ice into your cup, pouring the latte over it and putting a cap on. you’re moving in an almost perfect rhythm, your movements matching the beats of the song. a cheesy smile is plastered as you finish, drawing a smiley-face on your cup before taking a sip.

you look up to the clock, seeing its now 5:00, and you have to move the “open” sign. you take a sip of your drink first, closing your eyes in contentment as you taste it.

“perfect!”

the girl is still looking at you through the glass, enamored by how happy you are at 5 in the morning. you completely contrasted her. your bright sweater under your overalls, curls pulled up into a high ponytail, and glasses now sitting low on your nose seemed to fit your personality (or her rough impression of it from staring at you for five minutes) perfectly. she almost wishes you don’t notice her, you seem so in your element.

her wishes are not obeyed, as you look over at the door and lock eyes with her almost immediately, slightly jumping at her sudden presence and the fact that she was most definitely staring at you.

how long has she been there….

you lower your headphones onto your neck, music still leaking through.

you look at the girl for a second, taking in her features (or what you can see from across the cafe), and the main note you got was gay.

and kinda hot.

she had redish-brown hair, cut into a mullet stopping at the bottom of her neck. her jade-green eyes were staring right at you, and they perfectly complimented the brown freckles adorning her face. she had layered a dark grey long sleeve with a black band tee, with a pair of greyish-blue jeans and some seriously fucked up converse.

you quickly snap out of your daze, setting your drink down and walking over to the door. you flip the open sign over so it reveals the “open” side to the people entering, and unlock the door for the girl.

“sorry for the uh…wait? i dunno how long you were out there.”

she lightly giggles before walking into the store.

“yeah, you seemed like you were having a good time.”

you offer a laugh in response, walking behind the order counter.

she definitely saw me.

“you know what you want?”

you slightly wince at your words, feeling not very customer-service-y. your nerves were getting the best of you.

“hm…i dunno, whats that?”

ellie gestures towards your drink.

“my favorite! its just a chai latte, but i put oat milk and brown sugar syrup!”

you smile, content with your reply. it clearly rubs off on the brunette, as she smiles back at you.

“does it come with a performance?”

you roll your eyes at her response, laughing slightly.

“nah, gotta pay extra for that.”

you type her order into the cashier, still smiling.

“how much?” she jokingly asks, making the both of you giggle.

you look down at her hands on the counter , fingers slightly tapping it, the sound of her silver rings hitting it quietly repeating.

those are some homosexual hands.

“can i get that hot though? my professors classroom’s fuckin freezing.”

you laugh again, giving her a nod and changing the order in the system.

“is that it, window stalker?”

she chuckles at you.

“should be, twinkle toes.”

you roll your eyes at her, grabbing a cup and your pen.

“you got a real name, or should i just put that?”

“ellie. do you have a real name?”

you give her your name, writing hers down on the cup, along with a heart and some sparkles.

she repeats your name, nodding before paying and leaning on the counter of the pickup area.

you make her drink, still moving around a bit as you make it. you cant help it!!! you’re happyyyy :))

ellies really taking the stalker thing to heart, trying her hardest not to stare. but she CANT, you just look too perfect to not admire. shes never seen someone this giddy at work.

you decide to make a simple heart design with the milk, expertly pouring it into a perfect shape.

you proudly walk over to the pickup area, setting the drink down in front of you.

“here.”

you slide the drink in front of her, a proud smile plastered on your face.

she stares at the drink, face practically lighting up.

“wow, all this for me?”

she says, fake shocked.

a heart? is this how baristas flirt?

“cute drink for a cute girl.”

you look back at her, and see her features overcome by a slight red tint.

she smiles back at you, taking the cup into her hands and turning it over to see her name on the side, adorned with hearts and sparkles. adorable.

without a second thought you walk over to your cashier station. ellies shocked by your sudden disappearance, and slightly disappointed. but she cheers up when she sees you’re writing something down.

you walk back over to her, number in hand, and a cheesy grin on your face.

“here. so you don’t have to sit outside and stare at me anymore.”

she graciously accepts the paper, putting it in her pocket.

“who said this is gonna stop me? i enjoyed the show.”

[starryseo]

phone number. | yang jeongin

pairing ↠ jeongin x gender neutral!reader

genre ↠ just a fluffy barista au!!

wc ↠ 3229

summary ↠ jeongin likes you a latte.

warnings ↠ just jeongin being cute and in loooove. its cringey.

a/n ↠ barista!jeongin bc who doesn’t love cafe aus?

cafe glow is well-known around these parts of town bc it has such!! great!! food and drinks!

it has a real homely feel so a lot of student from the nearby schools/ unis come here

and it’s a pretty big cafe so there’s a lot of space for ppl to come in and chill, whether that be large study groups or just individuals trying to cram for upcoming tests

that homely feel?? it’s bc of all the youngsters that basically run the cafe

it’s officially owned by mr and mrs bang, but their son, chan, manages this cafe a lot since they’ve got a few other places in town to run

chan loves recruiting teens to work bc, despite their hyperactivity (esp the lot that are currently there), they’re a lot less work to deal with than grumpy adults complaining abt wages

so!!

just a few months ago, jeongin started looking around for places to work at

let’s get that bread bro

he spoke to a lot of the nearby businesses like the florist, library and pizzeria but as soon as he entered glow and saw a blond guy downing shots of black coffee as he made different drinks, he Knew he wanted to work here

he headed straight to the counter (ok ofc he waited in line first but who cares abt that)

“welcome to glow, what can i get ya?”

“hi, i was wondering if you were hiring?”

“so,” the guy - nametag reading Felix - began, leaning forwards on the counter, “you wanna join the glow gang, huh? have you got what it takes??”

maybe he should’ve thought more clearly abt this-

“felix are u creeping out kids again?? i swear this is the last time i leave you on counter duty” the black-coffee-drinking blond huffed, wiping his hands on his apron as he left the coffee machines. he nudged felix out of the way, pushing him to the machines before he turned to jeongin. “i’m sorry abt him, i don’t know why i still keep him around”

“i heard that!”

 “anyway,” the blond - nametag with Chan printed on it - grinned, “what can i get for you?”

“a job here would be great”

“you really wanna work here,,,, with that?” he pointed over to felix who looked back with a frown

“yeah, it seems pretty fun!”

“you got a cv on you?”

jeongin is a Prepared Boi. before his job hunting run he printed off multiple copies of his cv so he handed it over to chan who briefly looked over it

“when can you start working?”

“when do you need me to?”

chan let out a chuckle at that, pocketing jeongin’s cv, “swing by tomorrow at 4 and we’ll work that out, yeah?”

jeongin went home a Happy Boy and the next day at exactly 4:37 he had landed himself a sweet job at cafe glow

ever since that day a few months ago, jeongin had been learning the ins and outs of the cafe

he’s learnt all about where felix hides his ‘secret’ stash of sweets, where to kick if the machines ever go down and jisung’s ability to not stop talking

jisung’s the guy in charge of training jeongin bc chan doesn’t trust felix with another human’s life and minho, an older uni student that works here part time, is way too busy flirting with customers to get more tips those uni fees won’t pay themselves u go bby

and chan himself already has a lot to deal with since he mainly works in the kitchens

so jisung has taken jeongin under his wing and taught him how to make all drinks (despite there being a manual for this) and how to deal with the customers

and even tho jisung is only 5 months older than jeongin, he n e v e r misses an opportunity to baby the hecc out of him

“what are the different cup sizes we have?”

“uh,, small,, medium and large??”

“goSH jeonGIN you’re so smART!!!! ily!!! what cAN’T you do???”

jisung’s overdramatic as hell but he means well

and it’s always funny when jeongin teams up with felix (still a pretty rare occassion) to prank jisung

one day jeongin had a test after school so he couldn’t come by

and ofc he let chan know this in advance but he and felix decided not to tell jisung

jisung was waiting around for jeongin to come and he literally almost started crying when felix told him an hour later that jeongin wasn’t gonna come

“,,m,y bab y ? jeonginnie??? wh at do u me an,, he won’t com,e??? felix you a s s don’t l i e to m,e,, :((((”

they even got minho to record the whole thing not for free ofc, and minho’s services are n o t cheap, but it was totally worth it

felix screenshot jisung’s crying face and it’s now the display picture of their glow gang group chat

which btw never shuts up bc: during the day (and work hours) felix, jisung and jeongin will be spamming it, during the evening minho will complain abt all the uni work he’s got to do, after dinner time the youngsters are back on it sending memes until like 2am, and then by 4am chan finally gets on and complains abt the boys killing his storage with their dumb memes & he gives any updates abt the next day’s schedule if need be

it’s a great system, hella wild and random, but jeongin loves it nonetheless

now for the part where u, dear reader, come in!!

it’s just an ordinary day, a bit quieter than usual but jeongin’s not complaining bc it gives him time to finish off some of his hw while he’s at the till

he looks up when the door chime rings and

(°ロ°) ! 

he’s vvv obviously staring at u as u walk in, his pen drops on the counter and his mouth is :0

damn yn you’ve broken jeongin

but does he care???

yes

is he stopping?????

also yes but you’ve already seen his dumbstruck face and he realises he was caught just staring at u when u walk up to him with a shy smile on your face

he doesn’t know what’s come over him

and he doesn’t mean to be some typical teenage boi straight out of a high school drama

but u just look so pretty he couldn’t help but?? go heart eyes??

he’s trying not to lose his cool when u finally reach the counter

“hi!” he grins, “welcome to cafe glow, what can i get for you?”

you order your drink and watch as jeongin types away at the computer

he’s rlly hoping the screen blocks his blush bc he’s still (´♡‿♡`)’ing and he’s pretty sure he can feel his blush at this point

“is there anything else i can get you?”

your number

he finds your thinking face so cute!! the way u bite ur lip a little as your eyes glaze over the sweet treats they have on display

he d i e s when u look back up at him and ask, “anything you’d recommend?”

he keeps his cool as he says some of his fave desserts, and you choose the cheesecake

“alright! will you be eating in or is that to-glow go”

his heart swells when u laugh at his pun but he’s highkey dYinG inside bc he wants u to stay for just a little longer

he almost cries when u say you’re eating in bc !!! yes!!!!!! yay!!!!!!!!!! maybe he could try talking to you!!!!!

“sweet! take a seat anywhere, your food will be made shortly!”

when u go to pay for ur food he’s internally hating felix bc he swears all these mushy feelings he’s experiencing are bc felix made him watch back-to-back romance films

he’s taken money from a lot of customers but he’s never, n e v e r, wanted to just hold their hand and he’s honestly so close to just never letting go of yours rn but he mentally slaps himself

pull it together jeongin u dumbass

when u tell him to keep the change he’s just

s i g h can u get any more perfect

he yeets felix out of the way from the coffee machines and towards the till

“role change, i’m bored!”

“but chan banned me from the tills, he’s gonna kill me!”

“i’ll get jisung on you”

“uGHhgHGHghhhhh”

he’s halfway thru making ur drink when minho sliiiides next to him and slings an arm around his shoulders

“so, innie, who’s the cutie you’re serving?” ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

from his short time working here he knows that minho is in love with any kind of gossip and there’s no point in lying to him

esp not with this massive blush on jeongin’s face that’S STILL thERe bc jeongin peeked over and saw you taking out textbooks which means you’re gonna stay here for lo n g er than he thought

and he’s got this huge grin on his face :D

and no one’s ever that happy making coffee

esp not when felix is right next to them singing along to the twice song playing in the cafe

god knows who put felix in charge of the cafe playlist

an y w ay

“does our baby innie have a,,, crushhh on a certain someone???”

“noooooookay maybe? idk i just met them!!”

“:0!!!! our baby’s iN LOVE!!!”

minho said that so loudly!!! jeongin peered over minho’s shoulder and saw that y o u had looked up at the exclamation and he let out a sheepish laugh to try and make the scene look normal

u just grinned at him and he almost swooned

minho’s shouting alerted jisung who deadass ran from the other side of the cafe

jisung, out of breath: wh-what do u mean,, in love,,,??? you’re too young for that ://

even chan popped out from the kitchen. “jeongin loves someone?? how cute, who is it- felix, what the hell are u doing there, didn’t i ban u from the tills??”

“blame loverboy!”

“gUYsss :((( let me wORk!!”

“u do u, innie, go get ‘em tiger!” minho said, smirking as he took a step back

the other boys stayed quiet as well, chan filling up the front display with the baked goods he freshly made

jeongin quietly got to finishing off ur drink and grabbed a cheesecake slice to carry over to you

“h-hey,” he started, placing the plate and drink beside your textbook, “sorry it took so long,,,”

“that’s alright,” you smiled and all his worries literally washed away, “was everything okay back there?”

“yeah,” he rubbed the back of his neck, smiling shyly, “minho’s just easily excited and nosy, a terrible combination really”

u laughed at that and he grinned, his nerves easing away

“u guys seem really close,” when he saw u quickly look over to the counters he turned as well, just in time to see all four of them rush to try and act natural (altho jisung just dropped to the ground so he’s really a lost cause)

“they’re really crazy, but they do mean well,” he grinned, “except felix, avoid him at all costs”

“i’ll keep that in mind,” you chuckled when jeongin pointed out who felix was and felix just glared back at him, as tho he knew jeongin was talking shit abt him

“well,” he started, realising he should go bc a big group of customers had just entered, “i’ll leave u to it, i hope u enjoy ur food. let me know if u need anything else!”

he headed back to the counter, a HUGE grin on his face, he’s so glad his back is to u bc he’d be so embarassed if u saw

it’s bad enough minho saw and is non-stop teasing him abt it now

throughout his shift minho was just taunting him, cooing “innie’s in love~”

as he was dealing with other customers and running around the cafe, he’d make quick eye contact with u and each time he did, u let out the softest smiles, he’s pretty sure he’s never smiled this much

abt an hour later when the rush had died down, jeongin looked over to see that!!! u were still there!!!!!

he fixed up a quick mango smoothie, smth he always found super refreshing, and headed over to your table

“h-hey?” he tapped your shoulder when he noticed u had your headphones in

“oh, hey! i, uh, i didn’t order this?”

“yeah, it’s,, it’s on the house, thought you might need a pick-me-up, you’ve been working rly hard”

“ahh thank you!!!” u grinned at him so cutely, “would u like to sit down?”

he nodded too enthusiastically but he hopes u didn’t pick up on that ((u did)) as he sat down opposite you

for the next 30 mins? hour?? neither of u know

u guys just talked

he’s thanking god that there was no rush in customers bc he enjoyed spending time just talking to u

the conversation seemed to flow so?? naturally???

he found out ur name and that u go to a nearby school sadly not the same one as him

and u were taking the scenic route home instead of ur normal walking path or using the bus which is why he’d never seen u before

he’s so glad that fate brought u here today tho!!!! eternally grateful that u made that wise choice!!!

when ur phone buzzed with a message from ur family he finally realised that it was getting late

he watched almost in tears as u packed ur stuff up, thanking him for the drinks and snacks that he definitely didn’t steal from felix’s hidden stash

he went back to the counter, stars in his eyes as he leaned against the counter, opposite minho who was chilling by the till

“so, how’d it go? did u get their number??”

jeongin: (❤ω❤) 

jeongin, 0.02 secs later: ヽ(°〇°)ﾉ

felix, jumping in: “pls don’t tell me u spent all that time,,,,, and u didn’t get their number-”

minho: “loverboi was too busy making moves, eh?”

jeongin’s mood instantly dropped and he was so close to just headbutting the counter then and there

what if u never come back????

what if u came back when he wasn’t there?????

what if you’re on ur way here but then u see another cafe and u go there instead and fall in love with a barista there???????

jeongin’s 2 seconds away from pouting for all eternity when chan comes over and pats him on the back, “i’m sure they’ll come back!”

jeongin’s praying the old man’s right

and he is!!!!!!! cliche ik

u didn’t come back the next day which broke jeongin’s heart and he was honestly so close to losing all hope bc he’s incredibly dramatic like that

but u come back the day after!!!

jeongin’s wiping down a table when u enter and u spot him instantly and wave

he waves back but the cloth he’s holding slips from his hand onto the ground

and he rushes to pick it up but hits his head on the table when he tries standing up again

and he’s in so much pain but he just nervously laughs it away esp when he sees ur half worried, half trying-not-to-laugh-aloud face

when he sees u walking to him -- not the counter -- he’s counting to 100 in 3 seconds to try and calm himself down to not look like even more of a fool

“is the table okay?”

“yeah, i’m alri- hey, rude!” he pouts, faking a sniffle and rubbing his head

“i’m kidding, jeongin” (he had to bite his lip to not squEAL when u said his name) “are you okay? that looked painful :((”

“i’ll live,” he fake sobbed, rubbing away imaginary tears with the cloth in his hand before he realised what he’d just done and dropped it on the table in disgust (he highkey dieddd when u laughed at him again) “ew, i’m sorry you had to see all this”

“it’s fine,” you grinned, scrunching ur nose when u saw the wet smears on his face, “but u got a lil smth there” u pointed to ur own cheek

jeongin wanted to CRY

he knows he’s a cute boi (he uses this to his advantage whenever he can)

but rn??

he knows he looks like the epitome of a grade A DumbassTM

he just let out the longest s i g h

“i’ll be right back!”

he rushed off to the back and sorted himself out (and quickly iced his head)

he came back out to see u sitting down at the same table as last time

as soon as he came thru the doors u looked up and held out thumb, an eyebrow raised

and he reciprocated the gesture, telling u he’s all okay now!

he found it so cute that u cared!!! his heart: on fire!!

felix walked right to him, pulling him along to the coffee machines as he told him ur order

“u owe me one now loverboi!”

jeongin prepped ur food and took it to u like last time

but this time u initiated the conversation

“felix isn’t all that bad, y’know?” you said, holding onto your hot drink as it warmed ur hands up

“for now,” jeongin started, “trust me, if u ever have the misfortune of seeing him act cute, you’ll regret ever saying that.”

your nose scrunched as you imagined that -- jeongin gasped when he saw and then prayed you didn’t see that -- before you let out the cutest laugh he’s ever heard, “yeah, i can’t imagine that looking nice”

you two talked for a bit more until jeongin had to get back to the counter and take orders

he popped up at your table when he could, offering felix’s sweets and a refill

“do you treat all your customers like this? free drinks isn’t good for business, y’know?”

he went bright red at your teasing bc “nope, you’re special!” -- his eyes went w i d e when he said that and, if it was possible, his cheeks went redder -- but god, was it worth it bc your eyes sparkled and your blooming blush was so pretty he was starstruck

he cleared his throat, let out the most nervous chuckle ever, put the lemonade on your table before diving behind the counter

he could practically hear minho’s smirk from all the way over here

great.

it took a little while longer for him to psych himself up to go over to you again after that disaster

but seeing you pack up your bag made him forget everything and run up to you

“hey, you’re done already?” he asked, pouting as you put your last book away

“yeah, i’ve gotta help make dinner soon,” you replied, fixing your bag over your shoulder, “thanks for the drink, it was great!”

“y-yeah, no problem!” you loved his drink!! score!!!! “come again soon, yeah?”

“definitely,” you winked -- you winked, god his heart was weak -- before waving and taking your leave

felix slid up next to him, throwing his arm around jeongin’s shoulders

“pls tell me you got their number this time”

shit.

the top gif is jeongin’s face right now

[dvp95]

quiet on widow’s peak (11)

pairing: dan howell/phil lester, pj liguori/sophie newton/chris kendall rating: teen & up tags: paranormal investigator, mystery, online friendship, slow burn, strangers to lovers, nonbinary character, trans character, background poly, phil does some buzzfeed unsolved shit and dan is a fan word count: 3.1k (this chapter), 35.5k (total) summary: Phil’s got a list of paranormal experiences a mile long that he likes to share with the world. Abandoned buildings, cemeteries, and ghost stories have always called his name, and a particular fan of his has a really, really good ghost story.

read this chapter on ao3 or here!

Phil hates taking public transit anywhere that he hasn't memorized a route and the inevitable issues with it, but he's not about to ask his parents for a ride to the city. In fact, he ducks out of the house with nothing but a 'be back later' tossed over his shoulder. His stomach is making unhappy noises the entire ride to the Rusholme area, and he regrets not putting a cereal bar or something in his bag after his parents went to sleep. He supposes that he could have braved breakfast and his parents' disappointment, but he desperately did not want to deal with that so early in the morning.

He's grumpy from lack of caffeine and food by the time he tumbles into the coffee shop, but he can't help his mouth from curving upwards when he sees Dan behind the counter. They're handling a customer, but their face lights up when they make eye contact with him, like they thought he wouldn't show. Phil gives them a little wave and drops his stuff on an armchair by the cozy fireplace. He's planning on being here for a while, he might as well stake his claim on the good seat now.

The fact that the chair has an unobstructed view of the counter isn't on purpose, but Phil can't pretend he isn't happy about it. He takes his jacket and scarf off, waiting for the stranger to go away so he doesn't have to hem and haw over his breakfast choice with an audience.

Phil should probably be using this time to look at the drinks on the chalkboard menu or the fresh pastries in the case, but he's too distracted.

It's been a day. A single day. Less, even, since it hasn't been a full 24 hours. And yet his eyes keep drifting back to Dan like it's been ages since he's seen them. Their eyes are lined thickly with what looks like black ink and their lips are shiny, but their face is otherwise bare. Phil wouldn't be able to clock the lack of makeup at all if he hadn't woken up beside Dan's clean face and accidentally memorized it.

Finally, the customer leaves, and Phil is free to approach the bar without feeling like an idiot. He gives Dan a sheepish sort of grin as he sidles up, only now looking at his options.

"Morning," says Dan, in that vaguely cheerful customer service voice. They push their sleeves up to their elbows like they need to be doing something with their hands, and Phil gets distracted again by the new shade on their nails and the shape of their forearms. "What can I get you?"

"Uh," Phil says eloquently. "Coffee. And food?"

Dan's smile twists into a smirk and they look like they're barely holding back laughter. "Funnily enough, we do those things here. Do you know what kind of, uh, coffee and food you want?"

It takes all of Phil's self control not to flip Dan off or tease them right back. He wouldn't bother holding back, normally, but there's a man with a 'manager' nametag working the espresso machine and the last thing he wants is to get Dan in trouble. Phil turns his attention to the menu again. He's retaining just as much nothing as he was before. "Uh," he says again. After a moment of thought that lasts far too long, Phil ends up shrugging. "Surprise me?"

"Sure," says Dan. Their eyes are sparkling, and Phil finds that just as hard to look away from as the glitter that had been on their face before.

"I'm kinda lactose intolerant," Phil informs them, just for something to say that he doesn't have to think too hard about. "And I like sugar. Like a lot."

"I can work with that." Dan shoos him away with their big hands, still smirking. "Go on, go sit down. If we get busy back here I'll call for you, but I can probably just bring it over."

Phil glances at the manager. "You sure?"

Dan follows his gaze, brow furrowed in slight confusion, and then rolls their eyes. "Yes, I'm sure. Gabe doesn't give a shit if we talk to our friends as long as we get our work done. Right, Gabe?"

"Whatever," Gabe says, almost monotone in how little he seems to care.

"It's fine," says Dan. "Go. Sit."

Phil doesn't have much of a choice but to go take up camp by the fireplace. He takes out his phone and checks in with his friends to make sure they got home alright and to subtly see if any of them are mad at him. He doesn't like the idea of them feeling like the whole weekend was a bust - even if it kind of was - and he likes the idea of them being irritated with him even less. He's having enough trouble with the reality of his parents being unhappy with his choices.

The last thing he needs is for the other important people in his life to be feeling the same way. He fields PJ's concern and Chris' flirting and Sophie's helpful links to sleep paralysis theories with relative ease. He doesn't care about his own problems with the Wilkins place or the situation he's put himself in as much as he cares about what his best friends think.

The fact of the matter is, Phil knows he can't do this forever. He doesn't need his parents telling him that. He likes what he does, more often than not, but it's getting harder and harder to keep pushing himself into a routine that he might have outgrown by now.

He has so many ideas. There are so many stories he wants to tell and far too many different ways he could be telling them. He wonders if he keeps going back to other peoples' ghost stories because it's easier, safer, than putting innermost parts of himself out there for public consumption. Luckily, his friends aren't pushing him yet. He imagines it's only a matter of time before they notice that he's just going through the motions.

Even so, he doesn't like hearing things from his parents about his wasted potential. He doesn't need them to say what he's already thinking about all the time.

"Hey, you still on Earth?"

Phil starts a bit and almost drops his phone. Dan is standing there, setting a steaming mug and a cinnamon roll on the rickety end table at Phil's elbow. They smile at him and he smiles back, just a little embarrassed about zoning out so drastically.

"Sorry," he says, immediately reaching for the mug. "Haven't had coffee yet."

"What a tragedy," says Dan.

"It is," Phil insists. He takes a big gulp of the drink, ignoring Dan's protests that it's too hot. The mix of chocolate and cocoa hit his tongue and probably scald it, but Phil isn't about to start waiting for his drinks to cool down now. He hums happily and fits both hands around the mug to leech its warmth. "Oh, this is good."

He doesn't think he's imagining how pleased Dan looks by the compliment, but he manages to half convince himself that they're just proud of their barista-ing skills.

"Thanks," Dan says happily. They shift their weight from one foot to the other and pull their sleeves back down. Phil wonders if they're actually getting warm and then cold again, or if they just don't know how to act when their hands aren't busy with something. Phil notices that the shop is more or less dead - there's a trio of students with earphones in and textbooks open by the window and Gabe obviously continues to exist behind the counter, but it's not at all the same vibe as spending a late morning in a Brighton Starbucks. Phil has done that many times, and all it ever manages to do is make his anxiety worse.

He doesn't feel like that here, like he's taking up space and not moving fast enough. He feels like he's allowed to loiter here as long as he wants to, as long as he keeps buying coffee and doesn't distract Dan too much. It's nice.

"Are you just gonna stand there?" Phil asks.

Dan's cheeks flush a bit, more obvious without the glitter and skin-like paste - Sophie might have called it foundation, once, but Phil thinks that's probably a house term and not a face term and he hadn't actually been listening closely.

"Well, yeah," they say with a tiny shrug. "I can only sit down for a bit at a time until my breaks, but Gabe doesn't care if I hang out over here. I just gotta look busy."

"Okay," says Phil. He waits for another couple of seconds before he gently adds, "You don't look busy."

Something in Phil's stomach twists when Dan blushes deeper and starts pretending to organize the trinkets on the mantle. He wonders how much of Dan's insistence on moving around is because of where they are and how much of it is their inability to sit still. It's unfortunate how cute Phil finds them. He really shouldn't.

He decides to put off this line of thought, again, because he's got a cinnamon roll and an unfortunately-cute person to focus on. He's not going to think about how many times he's already procrastinated this budding crush. He eats and drinks and makes idle comments about where certain things should be and generally winds Dan up a bit. They only manage to sit still for a couple minutes at a time, even though they need to help a total of customers twice more before Phil needs a refill.

The drink Dan brings over this time is a different colour than the mocha, and Phil sniffs at it suspiciously before taking a sip. He was raised well, so he doesn't spit it out, but it's a close call. Dan seems to see something on his face, because they throw back their head and cackle a bit.

"Okay, not a dark roast guy," they tease, reaching for the mug like they intend to give Phil something else entirely. Phil pulls it out of their reach and shakes his head.

"No, hey, I'll drink it," he huffs. "Just point me to the sugar. I need a gallon of it."

--

Phil doesn't actually get much opportunity to talk to Dan in the handful of hours he sits around the coffee shop, but that doesn't surprise him very much. He gets comfortable with his laptop, legs tucked up under him in increasingly pretzel-like ways, and passes the time by editing the footage they do have. It isn't much, and that almost frustrates him enough to walk out and get the soonest train south, but every time he reaches that point, Dan is there with their big smile and another experimental drink in hand.

He's never really considered himself picky when it comes to hot drinks, since he likes his coffee instant and his tea weak, but Dan is quickly changing his mind about that. Most of the things Dan brings him are gross or just not something Phil would ever voluntarily order again, and Phil starts to think that he's probably the problem here.

"No more," Phil whines when he sees Dan making another mug of something indistinguishable.

The students in the corner have left, although Phil can't remember when, and Gabe is in the back doing... something, so he doesn't feel self-conscious talking across the small shop. At this point in the day, it's just him and Dan.

Dan laughs loudly and shakes their head. "This is for me, you big baby," they say. "My shift is done. I figured I could have a drink, if that's quite alright with you."

"I suppose that's fine," Phil grins. He saves all his work and shuts down his laptop, stretching his legs out for the first time in ages. He's gotten up to pee enough times that Dan probably thinks there's something wrong with him, but he's been in a bit of a research vortex. "Thanks. For, y'know, letting me come hang out here."

"Sure, anytime," Dan says. They sound sincere about it, not like they're just saying so.

"What do I owe you?" Phil asks, digging around in his bag for his wallet. He doesn't have all his equipment with him or anything, but his laptop bag is still cluttered with a bunch of nonsense he doesn't actually need to carry around.

Dan rattles off a number that doesn't sound correct at all, so Phil adds another bill to the pile before heading to the counter. Dan opens their mouth like they're going to protest. Phil isn't exactly in the mood to argue, so he just walks back to his chair without a word. He hears a loud, exasperated sort of sigh behind him, but then the sound of the cash drawer opening. Dan ducks into the back room for a couple of minutes and when they come back they're out of uniform and holding a travel mug with Pokémon all over it.

They're dressed more comfortably than Phil has seen them before. A dark hoodie that's clearly a couple sizes too big is hanging off their frame, falling somewhere around their thighs. It's a different shade of black than their leggings, but Phil doesn't think it matters to them. Their curls are a bit ruffled from being under a cap - still looking as soft as Phil remembers, though.

"Hi," Dan says, grinning a bit hesitantly as they sit in the armchair across from Phil. They hold their travel mug close to their face like it's a shield, but it's no use. Phil already saw the pink tinge of their cheeks and won't be fooled into thinking it's from the heat.

"Hey," Phil says, resisting the urge to hide his own smile behind his hand. "That hoodie looks so comfy."

Dan looks down, as if they'd already forgotten what they threw on. "Oh, yeah, it really is. I basically need pyjamas for this lecture or I'll be grouchy all day."

"What class was it?" Phil asks. He realises that he doesn't actually know what Dan is studying. Then his brain tumbles further down that rabbithole, because there's a lot he doesn't actually know about Dan. They've spent so much of their new friendship just talking about Phil's job and all the nonsense that comes with it.

"Human Impacts on the Biosphere," Dan says with a wry smile, like they know exactly how little Phil knows about the topic.

"You're studying biology?" Phil asks. Dan shakes their head, but they don't laugh or anything like Phil's question is a stupid one. He feels like it probably was.

"Environmental science," Dan corrects him. "But it's a biology class, so you're not far off."

"That's really cool," Phil says sincerely.

Dan blinks a few times in quick succession, and the fluttering of their long lashes is hypnotizing. They seem surprised that Phil is taking an interest, or maybe that Phil finds science cool. He doesn't know anything about it, really, but that's never stopped him from being interested in a topic. Especially when someone who actually knows what they're talking about is walking him through it - like Sophie with her experiments or PJ with his junkyard sculptures. Phil doesn't have to have a working knowledge of something to enjoy talking about it.

"Really?" Dan says, that familiar skepticism behind their sparkling eyes.

"Save the planet and all that, right?" Phil guesses. He must have guessed right, because Dan gives him a smile brighter than the fire beside them. "Yeah, I don't know much about it, but it sounds cool. What year are you in?"

"Third year, ready to be done with it."

Phil remembers what that was like. He also remembers all over again that Dan is twenty-one, like the fact had been simmering just under the surface until now. It isn't that Phil is drastically older than them or anything - more like he's nostalgic for an age he didn't even like all that much when he was experiencing it.

Things were their own kind of screwed up in Phil's third year of uni, but at least he still had... hope. Hope that his parents would come around to the hobby that was slowly starting to make him money, hope that he'd find a guy who liked his particular brand of weirdness, hope that he'd be able to do something with his life that he enjoyed. One by one, those hopes started to feel further and further away until he was here, turning twenty-six in two months and with nothing but a moderate-to-severe anxiety disorder and a couple thousand quid in his savings to show for it. He never even found a guy who'd put up with him for longer than two dates. He wonders what sort of hopes Dan has right now. He tries not to wonder how long it's going to be before they, too, start to feel like it's useless.

"Are you okay?"

Phil shakes himself out of his own thoughts, meeting Dan's eyes again. They're so warm and lovely that Phil feels a bit better just looking at them.

"Yeah," he lies, starting to pack up his stuff. "Just hungry, y'know. Teatime."

"Oh, right," says Dan. They look a bit startled, but whether that's from Phil's abruptness or the time of day, Phil has no way of knowing. "That makes sense. Want me to walk you to the bus stop?"

That sounds nice. Then Phil remembers what's waiting for him at the other end of the bus ride, and he shakes his head. "No, uh. I was thinking about getting dinner in town." He looks down so he doesn't have to see whatever Dan's expression does when he adds, "And I'd love company, if you... want."

"Do I want to have dinner with you?" Dan repeats, like they aren't quite sure if that's what Phil actually said. Before Phil can answer, though, they're already talking again. "Obviously, yes. There's a great sushi place down the street if you like sushi, and if you don't like sushi there's other good restaurants all over the place, like there's -"

"I love sushi," Phil interrupts before Dan settles into yet another ramble. He's too nervous to look Dan in the eye again, even with the positive reaction. "Let's go. My treat."

[caiuscassiuss]

Muse | Painter AU! Taeyong (M)

Description: “You are the apple of my eye, the stars in my sky; you are my muse, and most importantly, you are mine.”

Safe: In all ways, you have always played it safe, never taking risks. However, your stagnant world is shaken up when abstract painter Lee Taeyong propositions to you in the middle of an art galley.

Genre: angst | fluff | humor WC: 18.8k Warnings: graphic smut (virginity loss, rough sex, oral sex, unprotected, 69, etc), profanity

    (A/N: I’m so sorry painter taeyong lowkey turned into pseudo sugar daddy taeyong. Also, there is a detailed notations list at the end noting my references.)

   You scrutinized the lines of various lengths and curvatures that made up the design of your organic building. Your trained eye could pick out the angles were all correct, every detail arithmetically precise, but the building simply didn’t invoke any sort of passion in you. The lines were exactly just that; lines. None of the functional utility of the drawing gave way to any sort of creativity. It was like staring at a paper you’ve written on for hours with invisible ink, only to realize that you’ve forgotten the point and nothing made sense because you didn’t have any way of reading it.    A sigh escapes your lips as you stand up from your stool, a satisfying “crack” resounding throughout the empty room when you stretch your poor back. You roll your head back in a circle, refreshing your eyes from the hours spent on staring at a piece of blue paper hung up on the angled drawing board. 1, 2, 3, you count as you extend your arms out to relieve the muscles from the lack of exertion of a few hours.    Panting after the stretch, you stare at the drawing again. No matter how hard you stared, the drawing desk could not turn into a dirt-stained pottery wheel, nor could the many rulers suddenly morph into chisels, worn with constant use. It was hopeless really, as hopeless as you actually managing to put together a comprehensive design for your architecture final.    Your phone vibrated on the side table and your eyes dart over to the screen. It lay in a halo of rulers and pencils, erasers dotting the surface of the table like water droplets while pencil sketches were interspersed haphazardly. A messy desk was the sign of a messy mind, after all; you just hoped it didn’t reflect in your work.    Olivia, one of your friends at the private arts college you both attended, informed you to “hurry the fuck up” and meet her at the quad. You frowned, not recalling the reason why, but ah-ing when the reason came to you. A famous artist, whom with Olivia was absolutely enamored, was delivering a speech in one of the lecture halls on campus and she wanted you to come along. It escaped your reasoning on why your presence was needed (You were an architect major. What use was an abstract painter’s advice to you?) but you agreed anyway, even if she was acting like some silly teenage girl attending a concert.    Sighing, you did your best to organize the pathetic mess on your workshop table and gave up as soon as you started. What was the point anyway? It was going to be a quick trip, after all. You gathered your essential things in your bag and strode determinedly out of the workshop and into the maze of hallways that made up the famed Parsons School of Design. The midday sun that greeted you outside was a welcome replacement for the fluorescent lighting in the workshop.    Your friend, in her signature monochrome ensemble, was tapping her foot impatiently as she shielded her eyes from the sun. A surge of envy and sadness rose up at the sight of her paint-splattered tote bag and her stained fingers. You admired Olivia for her braveness at pursuing her passion, but also grew green-eyed at the sort of tired joy in her eyes when she recounted her brush technique class. Sighing, you continued walking through the quad, feeling the sunlight warming your skin and melting away your worries. Her disgruntled expression turned even more sour when she caught sight of you moseying along, admiring the the greenery and architecture.    “This is no time for you to enjoy nature! We’ve got to get there soon and grab some front row seats before half of the damn campus floods in!” she lectures grabs your arm. You roll your eyes and increase your pace to keep up, and you both speed walk to the lecture hall.    The lecture hall of Parsons School of Design was the pride and joy of its students and alumni. Designed by one of the alumni of the architecture department, it was a huge, intimidating structure made out of glass and metal in the spirit of postmodern design. A dome made completely out of glass soared over the amphitheater-style seating surrounding a central stage, the signature blood-red banners of your college hanging in this way and that way. Usually used for special occasions, this hall wasn’t your run of the mill lecture hall but a bold statement of creativity.    Even after having attended the venue multiple times, you couldn’t help but be amazed at its sheer size and impressive design. However, the room was filled with loud chatter and buzz, teeming with students and staff.    “Look! Over there!” Olivia exclaimed and tugged you in the direction of the inner ring of seats. You were surprised she could even see over the mass of people with her short stature, and that there happened to be seats available in the huge crowd.    As soon as the pair of you took your seats, a hush swept over the audience. Chitchat is smothered with the blanket of silence and the echoes of conversation no longer reverb across the hall, only a sort of nervous buzz signifying anticipation.    “Good afternoon, everyone. Today is-” your headmaster droned on in a monotone voice.    “This old man needs to hurry the fuck up, my god!” Olivia grumbled, resting her chin on her palm.    You roll your eyes and your thoughts drift to other trivial things. Did you water your plants? Did you save the latest design model in your hard drive? Was the hot barista still working at-    Applause resounds around the lecture hall as your headmaster steps down from the stage and hands the microphone over to a man with sunset orange-red hair and a slender build. His stage presence was immediately more noticeable than your headmaster’s. Him in his black slacks and oxford shirt rolled to the sleeves attracted the crowd’s attention like bees to honey.    “Ehem.”    Olivia, beside you, squeals in delight while you slightly lean forward, intrigued by this man.    “As you may know, I am Lee Taeyong, an artist and alumni of Parsons,” he bows slightly and your classmates murmur about his Korean heritage.    “Today, I would like to talk about inspiration.”    He started pacing the stage, making rounds to address each part of the circular auditorium.    “Inspiration is something easy to find, yet rather hard to grasp. It’s difficult to wrestle with something you see or feel onto a canvas or block of clay that makes sense. But this is basic knowledge to all of you, right?” he grins and the crowd laughs.    As the speech continues, you can never take your eyes off the painter. Lee Taeyong seemed to embody the abstract art he was so famous for, his presence departing independently from the reality around him. It was almost like there was the crowd, the stage, and then him. He cut an alternate shape in the fabric of reality and somehow, and that drew your attention.    “However, inspiration is more than what helps me pick up my paintbrush at 2 am and to pay the bills; it is an energy that I have to constantly grapple with. Inspiration will drive you to your limits or bog you down like an anchor, it can either eat at your mind or push you towards your boundaries. It can consume you or it will be the one that feeds you.”    “Inspiration cannot be underestimated; it is just as much as an energy as the electricity that lights up this building and the kinetic energy in physics. Do not take it for granted; you are under its spell, after all.”    Taeyong’s lecture comes to an end and he bows, which shakes the whole hall out of its trance and into thunderous applause. Your classmates and many staff actually stand up to give this man a standing ovation, which rarely happens. Olivia, by your side, is still starstruck and tugged at your arm in excitement while you suddenly snap out of your daze. Even though you feel like the floor has been taken from beneath your feet, you regain the use of your limbs and get up to applaud.

   The air conditioning hits you in the face like a wrecking ball, and you shiver at the temperature change from outside to inside. You clutch the handles of your tote bag harder. No matter; the cold was endearing and you wouldn’t have it any other way. The art gallery on 18th street was your home away from home, a moment of reprieve from the stressful world of college. A usual college student’s hangout spot would be the coffee shop or even at the library but no; your place of rest and relaxation was within the walls of an art gallery.    You strolled through the various galleries, greeting each piece like an old friend. In a way, they were; when you moved out from your comfy suburbs, the only thing that reprieved you from your homesickness was the paintings on the wall or the sculptures on display.    When you crossover into another exhibition room, you pause momentarily in surprise. While you were expecting to see overhanging metal mobiles by Calder (1), instead, you were greeted by paintings of various sizes in gilded frames. They were painted with a muted color palette, drab and horribly realistic. There were landscapes of wheat or empty, desolate rooms, all of them showcased in moody lighting. The banner above you proclaimed these were the works of Andrew Wyeth, a larger than life black and white photo of him hanging imposingly over the installations.    A central piece draws your eyes to its canvas. It is a rather intimate piece; a woman in full nude sitting on a stool near a barn window, her bright skin contrasted by the darkness of the background surrounding her (2). It was gorgeous and you admire the mastery of detail put into the piece. As you continued to inspect the painting, a presence sidles closely beside you. You pay no mind to the person.    “Was he in love with her?” Your intense concentration on the painting in front of you is broken, and you turn your head towards the sound of the noise. The man on your left is not looking at you, rather, in the position, you were occupying a few seconds ago: transfixed by the painting. His glasses reflect in the studio lights and they highlight his unusually sharp features. He gives off an aura you couldn’t quite identify but are somehow familiar with.    “You are to assume I know of such artistic critique?” you ask bemusedly, cocking an eyebrow at this intriguing man.    He turns towards you, and your memory suddenly clicks together. You didn’t recognize him with the glasses, but the sharp jawline and distinct cheekbones, the ruffled hair and aristocratic nose- Lee Taeyong.    Taeyong’s mouth half pulls into a grin but he motions at your emblazoned tote bag.    “Parson’s?”    “Lee Taeyong! Oh, my, I certainly didn’t expect this.” The lights feel too bright and too warm when he scrutinizes your face with his intense, coal black eyes.    “Pleasure. And you are…?”    “Y/N L/N.”    His mouth pulls into some kind of half-smile for you and he turned back towards the painting.    “So?”    “I’m part of the architecture department,” you explain, bitterness seeping into your tone.    He raises his eyebrows.    “Either way; was Wyeth in love with his muse?”    Your brows furrow at this question. You think for a few seconds before carefully deciding on an answer. There was no telling what this man wanted anyway.    “I feel it was more of an aesthetic appreciation if anything. Nudity is not inherently sexual- Wyeth wanted to just invoke vulnerability through her nude body,” you speak decisively.    “Is there not some sort of love involved in spending time painting and scrutinizing every crevice of her body?” you shiver at the almost seductive tone in his voice, passionate and fiery. His tenor was the stuff of dark rooms and rumpled sheets, dying sunlight and lingering kisses.    Nevertheless, you huff and roll your eyes. “If you see it that way, sure. She was probably just a hired model.” (3)    Taeyong stays silent for a few seconds.    “Interesting,” he hummed.    You both stand, side by side looking at the dark painting.    “I hate to inform you, but my intentions on coming over here were not... purely to ask you about your interpretation of Wyeth.” Taeyong broke the silence.    “What were they, then?” you ask, intrigued,    “Your eyes are wonderful, you know,” Taeyong says abruptly.    “What.” you deadpan, confused at his sudden shift in tone.    “Your eyes are wonderful; I should love to paint them,” he speaks absentmindedly as if he were speaking to himself and not in conversation with another.    “Will you let me paint you?” He turns his smoldering eyes to you, boring into yours like a sucker-punch to the gut.    “I… excuse me?” you sputter, secretly wondering if this esteemed artist your friend so admired was high off of his ass.    “Will you let me paint you?” he draws out as if you were lacking in brain cells.    “Um… no? I don’t pose nude. Nor do I fancy myself a model.”    “You wouldn’t have to pose nude, y/n. You would serve more as… inspiration, rather than a real-life reference. You would be paid, if that helps,” Taeyong spoke quietly, beseeching you to heed his words.    “I’m afraid I don’t have much knowledge with this sort of thing, you know?”    Taeyongs sighs, and reaches into the inner coat pocket to retrieve something white and small. He offers the object, a vellum calling card, to your perusal. His name and contact information are engraved with silver ink and you hesitantly reach up to grab the card.    “Well, if you change your mind… you can contact me.” He brushes his thumb over your knuckles as he hands you the card, the way a cool breeze brushes upon your skin to refresh you from the hot summer air. His touch would seem unintentional if not for the suggestive smirk on his face. You blush slightly at the contact, and he retracts his hands and put them into his pockets.    “I bid you adieu.”    With a final grin, he sweeps out of the room, his presence still lingering like a miasma in the air.

   You slouch into the headboard of the rickety bed of your dorm room, cuddled up with blankets and hot chocolate. It was time to do some research because you were going to be safe.    You typed in “artist model”. All that came up with was a definition, so you decided to go another route. “Artist’s inspiration” brings about nothing relevant, and you pout, frustrated at the lack of information available. You ponder for a moment, the thunderstorm pounding at your window pane. Were you going to be his “muse”? You knew, vaguely, that the term was a loaded concept, subject to controversy and misconceptions. The way Taeyong described, you were acting more like a base for his artwork, something of an anchor for his creativity; a jumping board.    A crack of thunder jump-scares you, and you almost spill your hot chocolate onto your bedsheets. Sighing, you relinquish your grip on the mug and put it on your nightstand.    Throwing your hands up in exasperation, you power off your laptop and set aside on your desk. Today was simply not that day where you would come to a definite conclusion.

   “Say, Olivia, if you were suddenly propositioned by a man to be his model, would you accept?”    “Come again?!”    Her head of blonde hair whips back as she snaps her head towards you. The brushes she is washing in the sink are quickly discarded in favor of her freezing in shock, an amusingly shaken look on her face. You, however, are unperturbed and sit on the couch, staring at the TV display nonchalantly.    You look back at her, an eyebrow raised as her mouth gapes open stupidly in your direction.    “I’m not repeating that.”    Olivia unfreezes and turns off the tap, wiping her hands hurriedly on her jeans as she strides towards the living room of her apartment. Her pretty countenance is marred by furrowed brows, a mixture of confusion and impending alarm in her eyes. She settles into the couch, and unlike usual, she does not flop into it ungracefully but sits into it cautiously with her back ramrod straight.    “Y/n can you please explain?!” she asks.    You sigh and switch off the blaring TV and turn to her.    “An artist I recently met at a gallery asked me to “serve as inspiration for him”.”    At the sight of the doubt on her face, you explain more.    “No! Not like that. I’m not posing nude for him or anything like that, more like… inspiration of sorts.”    Olivia leans her chin onto her palm, deep in thought.    “Okay, who is it?”    You cringe. You knew this question was going to come up.    “... Lee Taeyong,” you whisper.    Olivia actually physically jumps off the couch and stands up.    “WHAT?!”     You cower away from her enthusiasm. Her hair crackles with excitement and her eyes are wide, but you are not surprised by her overzealous reaction.    “Erm… yeah?” you offer hesitantly.    “Oh my god, yes! You should totally do it! This is great, y/n! Do you know how many people would kill for this opportunity?” she ranted as she threw her hands up in the air. She paced the room in barely contained excitement, while you could only stare.    She calmed down after a while and sat back down. She exhaled then drew a palm over her face, and her face was fine.    “Okay, in all seriousness, I think it would be a great opportunity for you. Y/n… I love you so much, sweetheart, but you always play it so safe in your life.”    You frown and turn your head to the side. While you have known this practically all your life, it still hurts for it be said so raw and out in the open, like a cut wound exposed to the air.    “You never want to go out clubbing with the girls or flirt with some guys. Hell, you didn't even want to pursue scul-”    She shuts up when you cut your eyes towards her, a warning and angry gaze contained in them.    “...sorry. However, you get my point: you need to take risks more. Have fun, take a breather, and get out more! I think… I think this modeling opportunity might get you out of your shell, you know? You should go for it and… just be careful.”    You stay quiet for a while, contemplating over her words. Olivia was right, as much as you hated to admit it. It loathed you to go out of the apartment, no matter how much you yearned for excitement and the vibrancy of city life. Any romantic interest or advance was clinically clipped at the bud, because what if you got hurt? What if you couldn't concentrate on your studies? Safety meant no boys, no parties, no risky decisions. Safe was always...safe for you. But was “safe” good for you?    “... alright. I'll give it a try.”    Olivia squealed and dragged you off the couch, dancing you around in a bastardized version of the waltz. Peals of laughter rang out throughout the apartment as she dragged you into her excitement.

   The numbers of Taeyong’s number glow up from your screen, all ready to be dialed. You, on the other hand, were NOT ready and instead, eyed your phone like it was some sort of bomb that might explode.    Even if Olivia had convinced you at least try and see where it took you, you could not uphold to those promises when it came down to be. The effects of pressing the red little call icon on your phone screen would be… astronomical.     Would things change? Would they be the same? Would you still be the college student struggling to make ends meet? Or would you be something else entirely, something you couldn’t even fathom in your imagination? What would happen?    You know what? Fuck it.    You could do this.    A shiver of nervous anticipation wracked your body as the dialing tone rang through your empty apartment.    “Hello?” a husky tone spoke.    “Hi,” you whisper.    “Who is this?” Taeyong asks disinterestedly.    “It’s… it’s y/n. The girl you met at the gallery on 18th street?”    “Ah, y/n! Hello!” He exclaims, a complete roundabout from the cool detachment apparent in his tone earlier.    “Have you thought about my offer yet?” He asks.    “Erm, yes. I decided I… I’d like to take you up on it.”    There are a few moments of silence until Taeyong breathes out, “Delightful.” You unconsciously let out a breath you didn't know you were holding in. Your posture slumps back into the chair behind you from your hunched position over the table.    “Um… yeah.” You don't know quite what to say now.    He laughs, a rich delightful sound that rumbles through the phone line and stirs something in the pit of your stomach. You gulp as his amused chuckle does down.    “You are so cute. I'll text you the details of where we should meet up, alright?”    “Yes, of course.”    “I will see you later. Have a nice night.”    “You too. Goodbye.”    The line clicks off and it is almost like the aftermath of an explosion. You stare, dazed and shell-shocked, at the dark screen of your cell phone.    You really don’t know what you have gotten yourself into.

   Muted jazz music plays softly over the speakers of the cafe you are currently sitting at, and combined with the ambient lighting makes the place attractive indeed. It is one of the classier coffee cafes in New York, one slightly out of the price range of broke college students, so it is an oddity to see one sitting in one of the plush booths that the cafe provides; hence, why you probably stuck out like a sore thumb.    Your fingers fumble with the handle of the coffee mug in front of you as you check your phone repeatedly. You tug nervously at the collar of your shirt and look around the cafe discreetly.    Taeyong had texted you the address of this cafe with no explanation, except a time and a date. It was rather confusing at first; why did he want to meet up with your cafe? You’d think you’d be brought to some sort of studio or informal workplace, but here you were, humming along with the saxophone in a dimly lit cafe.    The display on your phone read 6:40, 10 minutes after when Taeyong had said he would meet you. Normally, you would just wait patiently, but the importance of whom you were meeting with and why had you on edge with anticipation, butterflies wreaking havoc in your stomach. You glanced down at your coffee mug; it was ¼ full, which meant you have been guzzling it down pretty quickly in nervousness. A sigh escapes your lips as you turn your attention towards the window.    You were on the fifth floor, so you had a bird’s-eye view of the pedestrians outside. People-watching was a habit of yours, albeit barely explored; it intrigued you to ponder what sort of lives the people passing you had. A woman near the corner caught your eye; she had perfectly coiffed hair and strode confidently through the mess of people with a briefcase and light overcoat. She looked like she might be a working woman, you mused, a yuppie; the sort of person your father dreamt for you to become.    A man with dyed orange hair ensnared your attention next, carrying a skateboard. While you could not see it from your vantage point, you knew he probably had some sort of Supreme-branded clothing on because of the neon yellow of his shirt and the flaming red color of his pants. People around him, particularly of the older generation, stared at him in disdain as he seemed to brush it off, not even acknowledging the world around him. You wished you could be like that; doing what you wanted, not caring about anyone wanted around you.    “Y/n?” a voice broke you out of your thoughts.    You turned your head and there was the man of the hour: Lee Taeyong.    He looked particularly dashing today, although unusually dressed. He wore a loose linen shirt tucked into some skinny jeans, his sunset red-orange hair kept in by a silk green bandana. The picture of a well-dressed, in-style millennial. Taeyong smiled a crooked grin at you and slid into the booth in the seat in front of you.    “How are you?” he asked.    “I’m doing fine myself, and you?”     “Rather well.”    The pair of you sat in silence for a few moments before he broke it.    “You must be wondering why I’ve summoned you to a cafe of all places, right? I can see it in your eyes,” he intoned.    You nod slowly.     “What I have found is that you can’t find the essence of a person while they are contorted on a podium in a studio. You can better express emotions and get a feel for the person better when you can explore all facets of them. What better to do that than to observe them in a natural environment?” Taeyong stares out the window into the crowded street.    He turns his gaze to you.    “Can I know more about you?”    “Erm, sure. What would you like to know?” you ask, unsure.    “Your social security number,” he deadpans, a cloying glint in his dark eyes.     You frown and then see the look in his eyes. Your countenance asks him: really?    Taeyong bursts out in laughter and you giggle along with him, discomfort at least a little bit gone.    “I’m joking, I’m joking. Hmm… perhaps the basic stuff?”    “That’s alright. Like what?”    “What do you like to do in your free time?”    “I… I like to watch Netflix. Um… I like to… cook? Yeah, I like to cook stuff like teriyaki chicken or stir-fry. Perhaps play around with clay or stone, if I have it on hand,” you list out.    “Sculpting? That’s rather fun. I used to do a bit of it before myself before I really got into painting. What do you like to sculpt?”    “People,” you reply immediately. “People.”    “Same as me then, hm? Are you trying to use me as a stepping stone for your career?” he asks playfully.    You laugh while he stares at you intensely as if he’s trying to commit the planes of your face to memory. Perhaps that’s what he meant by “observing”.    “Maybe I’m trying to secretly sabotage your art, so I can get a leg up. What about then, Taeyong, hm?” you tease.     He stares at you in surprise before he laughs, the sound carrying around the cafe and imprinting in your brain.    “Oh, you’re a delight, Y/n. Truly.”

   These meet-ups go along for a few more months, all in different locations. Taeyong never asks to meet up at a location you have already been to before. He takes you through the paths of Central Park, to the bustling chaos of Times Square, even taking you, in a rather memorable trip, to a show on Broadway. Every time you met up, he’s given you fifty dollars for your time. You accept it gratefully, albeit awkwardly.    You’ve exposed a lot of yourself to him now; he knows everything from where you were born, when you were born (he’s 6 years older than you), to your favorite type of frosting and even your hatred of small holes.     You often wonder what he is doing with this knowledge. He has never mentioned to you the progress of his artwork but you can see the paint smudges on his fingers or the rare smudge on his trousers when he visits you in a rush from his studio.    Taeyong, you think, is more artist than scientist; he adds different variables and he observes how you react. You are the proverbial rat in a glass box.    However, as bare as you are to him, he is as closed off to you.    Besides the basic knowledge of his occupation and age and whatnot, you never really got a read on him. Taeyong was like one of those Hanamaya puzzles you struggled with as a child, frustrated at the lack of progress unlocking the intertwined metal structures. Enigmatic, closed off; your regular Sherlock Holmes.     These thoughts ran through your head as you strolled along Battery Park. It was rather warm spring day, and you enjoyed the warm sunlight against your skin. The park was also surprisingly quiet, on such a nice day, but you weren’t complaining; comfortable silence was more conducive to stimulating conversation anyway.    Taeyong had bought you an ice cream that you had been ready to pay for despite your protests, citing “I remember when I was a broke college student. Just take the money, okay?”.    As ate your ice cream, you walked in slowly through the tree-lined path. You grew anxious and wanted to ask him a question, but your voice couldn’t formulate any sort of sound.    “Taeyong… I feel as if you know the bare fabric of me but I… know nothing of you,” you ask, uncharacteristically bold.    He pauses and looks at you, hands still stuffed in his pockets, an unreadable expression on his face.    “I’m Lee Taeyong, I paint, I like strawberry macaroons, and I hate dirty rooms. There’s not much to know about me, you see,” he says shortly as he walks ahead.    I don’t think that’s true, Mr. Lee.

   Taeyong doesn’t text you for a few weeks.  As hard as you try, you cannot be unaffected.    You never really expected how much he has inserted himself into your daily life. He is in your thoughts when you sketch out the facade of an apartment building, and he is with you when you see the strawberry macaroons made in the bakery you always pass by when going to campus.    Did your words… scare him off? Were you perhaps… too forward with him? Did you cross some unspoken boundary as the subject of artistic inspiration? You look down to see that you have traced the same line over 3 times on your architectural sketch. A groan escapes your lips and you lean back in your chair, tossing the pencil haphazardly on the desk. Concentration escaped your grasp like a sand, pouring out of every crack and crevice even when you did your best to capture it. Evasive.    Like Lee Taeyong.    An even louder groan, a gross hybrid between a scream and a groan, escapes your lips and echoes around the empty room. There you go again, thinking about Lee fucking Taeyong.    The display of your phone lights up.    Meet me in the quad ~ TY    See. You were even hallucinating text messages from him.    You shake your head as you rub your temples back and for—    Wait, TY?    You scramble for your phone, which was (as usual) buried under a pile of pencil shavings and protractors. Fishing it out, you unlock the screen and hurriedly scroll through the messages.    It really was Lee Taeyong.    You stared helplessly at your uncompleted project and then back at your phone. Since you couldn’t concentrate anyway, you might as well try to relieve it by going to the source of your distraction.    You pick up your bag and wave goodbye to your very focused classmates, who merely grunt before going back to their boards. A quick walk led you to the square of carefully cultivated trees and flowers, all intentionally grown to create a relaxed and peaceful atmosphere. It also created a visual centerpiece for the school, the flora exploding in vibrant colors to create a gardener’s paradise.    You spot Taeyong’s languid posture draped in one of the many wrought-iron benches, a book held up in one hand and the other resting upon the armrest. You were surprised no one had recognized him, even with his conservatively-dyed black hair that he was sporting recently. Taeyong was one of the rare people whose presence was immediately palpable when you were in his vicinity, magnetic yet jarring.    “Phaedrus? (4) I should’ve known that’s the sort of philosophical nonsense you artists love to read.”    Taeyong turns his head towards you and mock-pouts.    “I’ll have you know that this here book was inspiration for one of my best pieces,” he defends, closing the book with a snap and straightening up.    “Ah, yes, let’s deify our inspiration if it makes money,” you reply sarcastically as you settle into the seat beside him.    “Indeed.”    He stands up and extends a hand towards you, at which you stare at as if he were offering you radioactive waste.    “Well, come on. You didn’t expect me to not do anything for a month, did you? I have something to show you.”     You take his hand hesitantly (surprisingly calloused for a painter) and allow him to pull yourself up. He places a hand upon the small of your back as he leads you to the iron gates of the entrance of the school. After a few short blocks, he guides you to the entrance of a covered entrance way of an imposing skyscraper. A doorman greets him imperiously and opens the glass door with a glove-covered hand and Taeyong nods at him as he steps through. You merely follow, confused as hell, but trusting enough of Taeyong to guide you through.    After going through the elevator, he unlocks a door on the 23rd floor and enters the room.    “Even though I am an abstract artist, the very definition of postmodernism, I still find I have a penchant for carved mahogany bookshelves and gilded mirrors. Irony at its best, hm?”    If you were to describe Lee Taeyong, it would not be ironic. Enigmatic, yes, but not dramatically ironic.    The large suite you stepped into did, indeed, contrast him very greatly. It smelled like old books and cologne, and the dark wood paneling gleamed in the warm lamplight. Rich jewel tones tastefully complimented the decorations, in the furniture or weaved into the carpet. It was like the backdrop of one of those period dramas you saw on TV, in the age where women wore corsets and men, cravats.    However, you only caught a glimpse of the apartment as he ushered you into a room. It was pitch black until he flicked on the lights.    The room you were in was an artist’s dream. There were shelves and displays full of brushes and paints, all organized except for a little part in the corner. Half-finished canvases were slumped like dolls in a dollhouse against the walls, some covered in sheets and some not.    What drew your attention, however, were the 3 easels proudly standing in the middle of the room. The triplet of them was covered in heavy sheets, containing mystery and intrigue.    “As you might’ve guessed, these things make up the “something” I wanted to show you,” Taeyong’s voice rang out from behind you as he shut the door. He led you to the middle and brushed past you to stand next to the paintings. He pulled the sheet off.    You couldn’t contain your gasp as you take in the masterpieces before you.    The leftmost painting was of a barely perceptible outline of a woman, painted in warm yellows, browns, and red. While very comfy, it gave off an almost confused quality, like it was as if the painter were given the face of a person to memorize in 30 seconds and then asked to paint what they remembered. There were details that were hazy, but the areas that weren't were well fleshed-out.    The one in the middle was a clearer impression of the woman, her laughing in the midst of yellows, dark blues, and forest greens. It was a little bit less distorted than the previous, at least her crinkled eyes and open mouth apparent but the rest… not so much.    The one on the right was immediately your favorite. The face of the woman was only defined by the lights of neon signs, painted roughly in haphazard strokes. It contrasted against a totally black background. The placement of strokes was so masterful, however, that you could perceive the glow of amazement in the woman’s eyes and the childish nativity that emanated from her delicate features.    “These… these are beautiful, Taeyong. Absolutely gorgeous. Wow.”    “You know these are of you, right?”    You shake out of your trance and turn quickly towards him.    “What?!”    He smiles his crooked little grin at you and motions to the paintings.    “The first one is at the cafe we first met at, remember? The second was you in Central Park on that wonderful day where I slipped into the dewy grass, leaving a sort of weird bodyprint on it. The third was at the Broadway show… where you took a million photos of the posters. Remember?”    “Of course I do,” you breathe out in amazement.    “I can’t believe such beautiful things were painted because of plain, old, ugly me. Wow, you must’ve had a lot work on your palette,” you laugh suddenly.    “Don’t say that,” he cuts in sharply, his tone dark and ominous. It causes a mysterious heat to rise over your skin and a shiver to race through your nerves, the hairs at the nape of your neck to stand on end.    “You should give yourself more credit, y/n. You are a beautiful girl and no one can tell you less.”    You stand on your tippy toes to engulf the painter into a tight embrace.    “Thank you,” you whisper into his shoulder.    He merely chuckles while rubbing your back with a tender hand, blazing a trail of heated nerves along the way.

   “2.5 million! Holy shit! Y/n, this is fucking crazy!” Olivia screamed at you while holding a tablet in her hands.    “I fucking know!” you scream back, huddled into a ball at the end of the couch.    Undecipherable screaming filled the apartment as Olivia shouted in amazement of the selling price of the 3 abstract portraits, while you just screamed in disbelief.    The 3 portraits of you had been put on the market last week, and it had already sold to an anonymous buyer for 2.5 million US dollars. Pictures of Taeyong looking dashing in a suit flashed across your news feed, him looking extremely proud as the auctioneer banged his gavel for the ostentatiously high closing bid.    At least you weren’t his failed inspiration, that was sure.

   “Congratulations on your piece, Taeyong. I’m honored to have been part of the creative process,” you smile shyly at him behind your wine glass.    The pair of you were sharing a nice dinner on the expansive balcony of his apartment in celebration of his grand success. The New York skyline was set against a haze of sunlight and dusk, a truly beautiful sight to consume along with the seafood noodles Taeyong had whipped up. It seemed that along with being a marvelous painter, he was a marvelous cook as well. Another facet in the gem that was Lee Taeyong.    “I couldn’t have done it without you, of course. You’re my muse now,” he chuckles as he wipes his mouth with a napkin.    You exhale heavily and stare into the contents of your wine glass. You sloshed the red liquid around, and it stained the sides of the cup momentarily before disappearing. You remember what your father had told you; if the wine stains the side of the glass, you know that it is a good vintage. Of course, Lee Taeyong would have the best.    “What’s the matter, y/n? Does something not agree with you? I can always make something else if you’d like—”    “No, no, it’s quite alright. It’s fantastic actually. It’s just some thoughts that are buzzing around in my head,” you wave off.    “Would you mind sharing?” Taeyong prods.    You smile bittersweetly at him.    “I’m actually quite jealous of you, you know.”    You push out from your seat, the soft satin of your evening dress brushing against your thighs like the caress of a lover when you walked towards the railing.    “What?”    “Jealous, Taeyong. Jealous. Like the green-eyed monster,” you reply, resting your elbows against the railing and staring at the skyline.    “Explain.”    You hear the clink of a glass being set down upon a table and him getting up.    “You were able to take the risk to pursue your dreams. I… was too cowardly.”    “What are your dreams, y/n?” Taeyong whispers into the breeze.    “Sculpting,” you laugh bitterly.    “My father— he was a doctor, you know — absolutely abhorred the idea of the fine arts. A very left-minded man, if you will. When he saw paintings or sculptures, he always scoffed at them. “How are these worth 1 million?” he said, “I wouldn’t pay a cent for these works of kindergarten art!”. As you can imagine, it didn’t endear him to the owners of the local art gallery. However I… I was his complete opposite. When I first got my hands on Play-doh… god. I wasn’t able to be separated from it! My mother told me I always cried when the can was taken away from me. Then I discovered clay and stone and so many other things to make my imagination become reality.”    “Of course, Dad knew of my hobby, but never considered it more than what he thought it was; merely a hobby. He expected me to put down my chisels in favor of books and math problems. I never wanted to.” You look down at your hands momentarily, which were tapping a random beat against the railing.    “When it came time to decide a career, I mustered up my courage and told him I wanted to be an artist. He took one look at me and laughed. “Stop joking, sweetheart. A career like engineering or IT would suit you better.” I… was devastated. But, surprisingly, he brought up the idea of being an architect. I agreed immediately, knowing it would bring me to Parson’s, the school I dreamed of attending ever since I knew what college was.”    You laughed again, bitterly, the sound being absorbed in the night air. “It’s torture here, really; I don’t know why I continue to tantalize myself with what I have wanted since I was 5, but am never really able to have. Call me sadistic, I guess.”    You can feel his heavy gaze on your back as you stare stoically off into the distance. He steps closer and closer until you can smell his musky cologne and aftershave. His hands wrap around your waist and bury his head in your hair.    He didn’t say anything.    You appreciated that.

   Soon enough, brief hugs turn into cheek and forehead kisses, lingering touches into hand-holding and affectionate cuddles. Taeyong can never seem to separate his hands from your waist nowadays, and you are always pressed into his side like a leech. No one says anything because no one sees anything.    Actually, you didn’t quite know what you were now. If you were to really put a label on it, it was a messy blur between a friendship and relationship. A kind of romantic purgatory. Even when he gave you kisses and held you affectionately, Taeyong never asked you to be his girlfriend. Not even a hint of a label or definition.    However, you wanted to be his. You wanted to be the one, his darling that he wined and dined. You wanted to be the one to relax him from the stress of life with soothing words and calming touches. You wanted to be the one that he woke up next morning in bed. You wanted to be his everything.    Alas, like some tragic Greek romance, it was probably never meant to be.    Even in the midst of this confusing haze of a relationship, Taeyong produced more and more phenomenal art inspired by you. You sometimes watched him paint each painting lovingly, stroke by stroke, on those rare days he let you into his art room. The mood of his art was... changing. You could see his abstract style shifting closer and closer into what was semi-impressionism until his portfolio was an eclectic mix of both. Of course, this subtle shift led to some outcry from critics, but his artistic reputation was still on the rise.    Today was one of those rare days Taeyong brought you to his studio. Darkening sunlight shone through the huge industrial windows, juxtaposed by the mahogany paneling and gold light fixtures. You sat in a chaise in the corner with his back to you as he stood, slathering hues of paint over a large canvas. He was painting the background first, it looked like, setting up the stage for a grandiose and show-stopping centerpiece that was sure to come around.    “Y/n? Can you come here for a moment?”    “Yes?” you said, padding across the floorboards in your socks.    He steps back from his painting and comes slightly behind you. “Can you look closer and tell me if you see any dark grey streaks on the background? I’m afraid some of my brushes were contaminated, as it’s supposed to be completely oil black.”    You frown but nonetheless, bent over a bit to inspect the painting. “No? Honestly, I don’t know how you expect me to see slight color variations, you’re the artist here—”    You are cut off as his arms wrap around your waist and bury his head in the crook of your neck. You jump a bit, surprised from the sudden embrace, but quickly adapt and melt back into him. The pads of his thumb attach itself to the slightly exposed skin of your belly, running smooth circles into your skin. Your hands come over the top of his and just stay there, while you close your eyes.    “I lied. I just wanted you to come over here so I could just hug you,” he whispered roughly yet mischievously in your ear, his breath causing the back of your neck to stand up.    “How utterly rude, you nefarious villain,” You murmur as a slight smile tugs at your lips.    He hums in agreement and the two of you bask in each other’s presences for a while before he breaks the silence.    “Man, have I been getting a lot of feedback about my art style for the past few weeks,” he chuckles and lifts his head off your shoulder. “To be honest, you make me want to… want to take my head out of the clouds. Why is imagination needed when you exist, when you are so human yet flawless? I’ve always loved painting the world the way it’s not, but you... you are the way it is, and it is perfect.”        You twist slightly in his hold with wide eyes. Did Taeyong really feel this way about you? Did he see you this way when he put brush to canvas? Were you his sane anchor of reality in his flighty imagination?    Even with these tumultuous thoughts bubbling around in your consciousness, you simply reached up and gave him a peck on his lips. Unexpectedly, he captured your lips with his a tiny bit roughly, causing you to jerk back a bit. He runs his tongue across the seam of your lips and you open it for him, unable to stop him. Taeyong isn’t rough, per say, but he was very persistent in his quest of kissing you, invading your mouth with his tongue and showing his complete dominance. You moan a bit into his kiss and you feel his lips curl up into a smirk.    Taeyong’s right hand cups your chin while his left one lands on your waist, pulling you closer into his hard body. You feel the taut muscles of his chest against your breasts and his warmth completely enveloping you, intoxicating you and making you all the more pliable to his ministrations. His hand moves up while his mouth moves down, his plump lips trailing open-mouthed kisses against your neck leaving a trail of goosebumps. His calloused hands lift up your tank top slightly and rub circles into your hips makes you shiver with delight while you press more insistently against him and thread your hands into his hair.    His lips trail down into the neckline of your top and suddenly top. Instead, Taeyong moves back up to hover his lips around your ear.    “Will you let me have you?” his voice whispers, a rough texture detectable in his voice.    You can’t respond, too caught up in the way his breath caresses your skin and how his hand has moved up to just below your bra cups.    “Say yes, please,” he whispers.    “Please,” he begs as his nimble fingertips play with the edge of your bra.    “Yes,” you breath out as you lean up into him and press his lips to yours.    Taeyong is not hesitant nor gentle when he kisses you now, it is demanding and powerful and dominant. His hands slip below your bra cups and rub your nipples with his thumbs, causing your eyes to flutter shut and as you whine pitifully into his mouth. He drops his hands and scoops you up, a surprised squeal leaving your lips as he strides powerfully down the hall.    He kicks his door open and carefully maneuvers you through the door frame, all the while still attacking your neck with nips and bites. The painter drops you into his bed and climbs in after you. You hurriedly remove your tank top so you could feel his touch and went to unclip your bra, but his hands suddenly tighten over yours and keep them in place. He forces eye contact with you, his eyes burning with a lusty smolder as you can only stare up at him with pleading eyes.    “Taey-- “    He shushes you with a finger against your lips. “I want to savor you.” One of his hands makes you release your bra clasp and replace it with his, unclasping it gently and helping you get it off your breasts.    Your shamelessness retracts for a moment in front of him and you cover your naked breasts with your arms, head turned away in embarrassment. Taeyong’s thumb and forefinger lift your embarrassed gaze to his.    “I want to see you,” Taeyong whispers gently.    Your arms lift slowly from your breasts to bare them to his piercing gaze.    “Absolutely gorgeous,” he whispers reverently, as if in awe.    One of his hands cup your right breasts and a small whine escapes your mouth, not used to man’s hand on such a covered area. He weighs it in his palm briefly and then dives in.    You feel his hot tongue laving over the sensitive skin, leaving traces everywhere but your areola.    “Taeyong,” you whine piteously.    “Say please, darling.” He says. You can feel the vibrations against your chests, your nipples hardening to a point where it is almost painful.    “Please.”    “Of course.” His tongue dives in right in and a burst of pleasure rack your body, causing you to rub your core against his thigh wantonly.    “Patience, darling, I said I would savor you.”    After heaping a sizeable amount of attention to your breasts, his mouth trails down your stomach and to the edge of your shorts. He roughly gets up and pulls off his loose linen shirt, revealing a surprisingly well-built body. Your eyes rake over his sharp collarbones to his defined pectorals and to his chiseled Apollo’s belt. You see a fine dusting of hairs working in tandem with his v-line to bring your eyes down to his bulge, which is pressing against the confines of his trousers. Moisture oozes out of your core as you slip off his belt while he takes off your shorts and panties.    Taeyong forces your legs apart until you are spread out for him to see. Breathing heavily, you see him fixated on the spot between your legs, his lips parted a little. He licks his lips and his right-hand reaches out to prod your entrance. You jump a little, not used to a man touching you tenderly in such a private spot. He prods, even more, pinching your folds and holding them apart while inserting a long finger.    Your head throws back while your spine bends backward, a long groan leaving your lips and filling the room. You don’t see him smirk, but you certainly feel him descend and settle his head between your legs.    The moment his tongue pokes at your clit, you yell out. It prods even more insistently and plays your core like a flute, his touches making you scream.    You can feel yourself reaching an orgasm when he inserts his fingers back in again into your pussy and when the pad of his index fingers hit a spot, ecstasy shoots through your body like a drug and juices flow out of your vagina like a flood.    Taeyong leans back up and he takes his liquid-soaked fingers to his mouth, sucking each one clean while smirking, causing your core to clench tightly. He takes off his trousers and his boxers, his erection popping out. It is a nice pink color but a bit red from strain and arousal, the tip oozing precum.    You lean a bit forward to grasp his manhood, your thumb stroking over his head. His head throws back in ecstasy while his grips on your soft thighs tighten to the point you think there will be bruises the next morning. He rips your hands off his cock while breathing heavily.    “There’s a time for everything, just not now, darling.”    You pout but retract your hands to your sides. He takes his cock and strokes it a bit, but pulls you up and sits you in his lap. You can feel his manhood pressing insistently against your thigh, so close to your entrance yet so far. You move his dick over your pussy, not quite putting it in, but grind down on it, twisting your hips back and forth. Taeyong grits his teeth and grips your hips hard, his hips bucking in pleasure at the contact with your pussy. You can feel the veined skin of his cock slide over your well-lubed folds, his head slightly pressing against your clit as your close your eyes in bliss. This goes on for a while, you moving back and forth while he rolls his hips into your vagina. Taeyong looks you straight in the eyes while he positions his cock slightly into your entrance.   “Do you want to go on?” he asks. You nod while biting your lips.   “I’m… I’m a-" you swallow and avert your eyes, "-virgin. Please… please be gentle, Tae,” you whisper, embarrassed at your lack of experience.   His eyes widen a bit, but a new light enters them, predatorial and hunger extremely apparent even to your inexperienced gaze.   “You can stop whenever you want, okay? Just tell me.”   Psh. Why would you want this little slice of heaven to end?   You slip your pussy over his dick and bottom out on his lap, both of you groaning into the silence of Taeyong’s bedroom. You rose up, left his tip in and then slowly dropped down. You rolled your hips over him while he left harsh hickeys all over your neck, little bursts of pain and pleasure to add to the all-consuming flame.   Taeyong ripped his lips away from your chest and shoves you down roughly into the bed.   “I said I would savor this, darling, but I can’t be patient any longer,” he growls as he looms imposingly over you. He spreads your legs even wider, and thrusts in powerfully, louder groans escaping your mouth. You wrap his legs around his waist and continues in the missionary position. He pistons in and out like a machine, every part of your vagina stimulated by his moving cock, and you can feel his buttocks flex powerfully.   He muffles your moans with his lips and roughly invades your mouth, tongue, and teeth everywhere. He pounds into you even harder, the headboard shaking and creaking under his powerful thrusts. His hips slam into your thighs producing a lewd noise of flesh on flesh throughout his bedroom. You can feel a wave of pleasure rising within you, and you moan even louder.   “Louder, darling,” he growls and then his cock hits the spot.   The wave of pleasure crests and then crashes back down and you nearly scream, you head bent heavenward while your back arches off the bed. Your walls contract around his dick sporadically while lifts you into a new position, never disconnecting from you, and fucks you through your orgasm, heightening the whole experience.   “Taeyong!” you scream, the new position allowing him to thrust deeper. Your mind is in a fog of pleasure and you can feel the pleasurable sting of overstimulation overtake you.   “Taeyong, fuck! I can’t take anymore!’ you cry as tears gather at the edge of your eyes, the bliss too much for your weak body.   “Hold on for me, darling, I’m nearly there.” Taeyong grits out as he thrusts harder and quicker.   Warm cum fills your pussy when you orgasm nearly at the same time, and he groans your name while you scream out his, writhing beneath his erratic thrusts. You can feel the cum dripping out of your pussy and onto his silk bed sheets. He slows down and collapses onto your chest, and the both of you breathe heavily.   Taeyong takes his cock out of your vagina, a stream of cum oozing out as he does so. You open your eyes to see him not tired, but eyes alight with lust as he grins ominously at you. His cock rubs against your entrance, while the aftershocks of pleasure rack your body.   “Get ready darling, you’re in for this all night.”

   Bright sunlight greets you when you wake up, tangled naked beneath silk sheets. You can feel that the spot beneath your legs is sore, but your muscles are relaxed and your mind is satisfied. Taeyong had certainly had it in for you all night, taking you in so many positions and bringing you to release countless times.    It was a good night.    Unfortunately, the man who made it so wasn’t snoring on the bed covers beside you, only rumpled sheets left in his wake. You can smell his cologne in the air and on your skin, but also the stench of sex and lust.    You stretch and get up from the bed, putting on your tank and bra, slipping on your underwear and shorts as you open the door. There is a faint strain of music emanating from one of the rooms down the hall, so you follow the tune. As you get closer, you can decipher a woman warbling sweetly with a roughness from an old-fashioned gramophone.    You silently click open the cold gold handle and peek in through the door. You see Taeyong with his back turned to you, a palette stained with the colors of the rainbow in his left hand and a scrubber brush in his right. He is clad in loose beige trousers and a coal black shirt hanging from his shoulders, while completely focused on the painting in front of him.    You sidle in beside him and speak up.    “I should’ve known you’d be painting, even after such a… late night.”    He jumps a bit but then turns to you. You can now see his black shirt is half unbuttoned, his chest bared out for the world (mostly you and the walls) to see.    Taeyong sighs, sets down his tools and wraps his arms around your waist. He buries his head in your honest-to-god rat nest of hair, and stays there for a few moments, savoring your presence.    “When passion meets inspiration, obsession is born,” he murmurs.    “Where did you get that quote from?” you ask curiously.    “Heard it from… somewhere, I forget,” Taeyong says.    “Probably from one of your artsy-fartsy philosophy books” you shoot back.    Taeyong snorts. “How ironic, hm? I preach and lecture masses people how inspiration can easily become your obsession, only for me to become the heretic to my word. Only for you, darling. Only for you.”    Taeyong rests his chin on your head while you lean back into his arms. You take the time to observe the piece he implies is his obsession, the thing that stomped on his beliefs and scattered them to the wind. You instantly recognize it is startlingly different from his previous works of art.    Of course, there is his dark background and signature jewel tones but it is a lot less jarring than you are used to. That being said there is no lack of passion or skill in this piece, but it is noticeably less abstract and a bit more... realistic?    There is a shoulders-up shot of a woman with her eyes closed, her head leaning into a palm while she is (presumably) naked.  The woman is fleshed out in full detail with a jumbled haze of colors surrounding her, making her the central point in the painting. Your eyes travel from her wispy eyelashes to the tilted nose, to the curve in her slightly parted tinted lips—    Wait a minute.    Your eyebrows knit together as you recognize the arched brows and cheekbones, the lip corners and hell, even the slight mole on the collarbone.    That woman is you.    Your head snaps towards Taeyong in surprise, whom you find is gently smiling at you.    “What do you think?”    You detach yourself from his warm embrace and step closer to the painting.    “You may hear this way too much, but it’s beautiful,” you whisper reverently in awe. Your hand comes up to brush over the surface of the painting, but stops and falls back to your side, afraid that you could mess up the painting.    “Art imitates life, darling,” Taeyong purred.    A blush effused into your cheeks like a dye. Vivid memories flash in your mind’s eye of beads of sweat rolling down the bridge of Taeyong’s aristocratic nose and jawline, eyes closed in ecstasy, and pleasure pleasure pleasure—    You snap back to reality before you could get any more caught up from last night’s tryst, but unfortunately, Taeyong has noticed and wore a shit-eating grin on his chiseled features. The painter stepped closer to you and you could faintly smell his cologne and something that was all too masculine, and he stared down with you with those intense eyes that pulled you in in the first place.    “Would you like me to show you where?”

   17 million ~ TY    You stare at your bright phone screen with bleary eyes, lids half-opened and trying to stay up. You had forgotten to turn off your phone for the night and the text notification startled you into consciousness at 2am. Your pleasant dreams about passing the architecture final were interrupted crudely.    17 million? What does he mean— wait, holy shit!    Your eyes, now completely free of fatigue, widen in surprise as you sit up and unlock your phone. The search engine you used quickly brings up a multitude of articles, but the some of the top headlines read “Lee Taeyong Sells Painting For $17 Million” and “You Won’t Believe What This Simplistic Painting Sold For!” You click on the Art Newspaper article and scroll through the click bait ads and epilepsy-inducing graphics to get to the main article.

  Lee Taeyong, 27 years-old Korean painter, is smiling in the midst of thunderous applause as the final bang of the auctioneer’s gavel signifies his astounding sale. This morning, 12 am EST, his recent portrait of a woman dubbed “Sense and Sensuality” sold for a whopping $17 million USD at the New York Sotheby’s Auction House (5). This is his highest-ever sale yet, and the future is looking bright for this talented young man.

   Congratulations! You type with a growing smile on your face.    Coming over in 10 to celebrate ~ TY    What?    The sheets tangle around your feet as you nearly trip out of your bed in order to get ready. A muffled thump resounds around your bedroom as you heavily land on the floor. You cringe, hoping the grumpy couple downstairs don’t wake up from it.        You should’ve expected this, as eccentric as Taeyong was. It was no surprise he was spontaneous.    You flick the lights on and grab a bra from your drawer. You snap it on while impressively combing your hair, then change into some leggings and old t-shirt because, hell, if Taeyong wanted to see you at 2am when he had to deal with 2am Y/N.    The bronze knocker pounds on your door and you bolt out of your bedroom to get it. A quick look into the peephole shows you gleaming black hair, reminding you of the way ink looked in a bottle.    Taeyong, still in his crisp black-tie suit, is standing in your dimly-lit hallway beaming holding a bouquet of flowers in his right hand.    “Hey.” His eyes look tired but are sparkling with vitality.    You leap into his arms and he holds you tightly, rocking you back and fourth. You murmur congratulations into his shoulder and he hums back, content in your cuddling. The pair of you stay in the dim light of your apartment hallway, your door half open and probably wasting your valuable air conditioner, however, you couldn’t care less: all that mattered was the man in your arms.    “Taeyong… I’m so proud of you. You deserved this so much,” you lean back and look into his eyes, a smile tugging at your lips.    The painter smiled his usual enigmatic twitch of the lips that you loved so much and leaned forward into to pull you into a deep kiss. His hands pulled you in closer to his body and the smell of his cologne was more prevalent than ever, intoxicating your senses to the point that if there were a fire alarm in the hallway, you would still be kissing his delicious lips.    “I couldn’t have done it without you, you know,” he whispers against your lips.    You roll your eyes and swat him on the shoulder.    “Oh, psh! It was 100 percent you, I was just kinda... there. A spectator to greatness and all. You don’t have to butter me up, you know?” you laugh as you lead him into the apartment.    He mumbles something you can’t hear as you are locking the door, and you turn around to face him.    “What?”    “Nothing, nothing. Just remembering something.” Taeyong casually deflects, as he tosses his suit jacket onto your kitchen chairs.    “You wanna celebrate? I can put on a movie and make food,” you ask as you clean the mess of your room.    “I’d love to.” The artist loosens his tie and chucks it in the general direction of his suit jacket, then partly unbuttons his oxford shirt until you can see the chiseled expanse of his chest.    “Cool beans.”

   The movie ended, and the credits rolled, leaving your living room blanketed in darkness and the two of you sit in silence.    “Hey… y/n?” Taeyong sounds unusually hesitant, unlike his normally suave and composed persona. You can feel his hands finger with the buttons on his shirt while he strokes your side unconsciously.    “Mmm?” you mumble, half-asleep.    “You… Do you wanna move in with me?”    This completely unexpected statement jolts you into awareness, and you look at his face in shock. Your eyes scan his face in the poor light of your living room, and of what you can see, he is dead serious.    “I- What?”    “Do you want to move in with me? Like, stay in my house?” he enunciates slowly, so alike to your first face-to-face encounter with him, like he was speaking to an idiot. However, you can see his face slightly turning red and his eyes averting downwards to his lap.    A moment lapsed in complete silence while you tried to process the implications of his statement and he tried to calm the butterflies in his stomach.    It was a stupid idea, he thought to himself sourly, too much, too soon, I should just apolo—    “Sure,” you contemplate thoughtfully.    “Yes? You want to move in with me? Live with me? If it’s too soon for you, you don’t have to—”    “I wouldn’t have said yes if I didn’t mean it Tae. Yes, I want to move in with you and live with you. I don’t think it’s too fast.” You stroked his cheek.    “Good,” Taeyong huffs. After a beat, his lips crack into a smirk and he leans in closer.    “I think we can celebrate even more now, no?” he whispers while fumbling with the waistband of your shorts.    You giggled in delight while swooping into to kiss him.

   The two of you collapse in bed, a few weeks later, exhausted from your activities. This particular round was initiated after he caught you trying on lingerie in his bathroom when you thought he wouldn’t be home for a while. He fucked you against the counter, the full-length mirror in your closet, and then finally ending up on his bed. You sighed in delight. What this man could do with his hips was heavenly.    You looked up at the ceiling of his bedroom, where he had decorated it with murals of beautiful angels and clouds. It was just like the Vatican, where the murals had lent an ethereal feeling to the church and made you think you were in a plane above reality. The few weeks in Taeyong’s company had been absolute bliss.  You had moved out of your apartment, moved your stuff into Taeyong’s apartment, and you stayed. He would’ve let you stay for free, but you insisted on paying at least a set fraction of the rent. He gave you the price of the rent to calculate upon, but you think he had lied and lowered it deliberately. Either way: it was heaven, like the murals painted on his ceilings.    “That… That was great, Taeyong,” you pant, naked chest heaving up and down in exhaustion.    “Mmm, yeah. I loved it,” he said, voice muffled by burying his head into the valley of your chest.    “Night, Tae,” you whisper as you doze off.    “Night, y/n,” he says quietly, and you can hear that he has one foot in fairyland right now.    As you consciousness dims and fades, you can still here Taeyong mumbling something. You listen closer.    “I love your body, Y/N.”    Somehow, that doesn’t sit well in your stomach. At all.

   A notification from one of the news sites you followed popped up on your phone.    Who is Lee Taeyong’s Muse?     You raise a brow at the message but quickly opened it up. Who is Lee Taeyong’s Muse? It said in bright blue, bold letters. A picture of the painting he created the morning the two of you first had sex was below the painting.

   Lee Taeyong, 27, recently has been finding major success among the cutthroat world of fine art. His most recent painting selling for 17 million USD, his artworks have been plastered on every major news site (including this one!) and has been the point of critical acclaim for their intimacy, skill, and emotion. Even after his shocking change of artistic style from completely abstract to pseudo-traditionalist, critics alike have been clamoring for his work. However, each one of his most recent paintings from the past year or so has had one thing in common: a beautiful, doe-eyed lady.

   Yes, most might be able to dismiss as an insignificant part but dear reader, it is the most important. From the painting “Broadway” to “Sense”, a similar lady has been depicted in all of them. She has been the center point of all his works. His earliest paintings of her were a triplet of paintings, her countenance growing more and more detailed with each successive work. The latest painting of her with her eyes closed and half-naked has been by far the most sensual one.

   We, at this site, have suspected from the intimate nature of his works that Taeyong has a muse: a person or personified force who is the source of inspiration for a creative artist. While there has been no reports of an official girlfriend or lover, the editors of this site figure the mysterious Korean painter has a significant other. Each painting of her in successive order has been noticed to have showed the progress of their relationship from friends to intimate lovers. His lauded attention to detail and depiction of emotion definitely comes from the heart, his heavy attraction to his lover.

   However, the subject of muses have been a long and controversial one. Cries of abused and neglected muses have been major headlines in the art world, and acclaimed artists being accused of sexually and emotionally mistreating their muses. Alas, many muses have had terrible ends like the beautiful Camille Claudel and the famous sculptor Auguste Rodin (6), in which Rodin dumped Camille and Camille went insane. Will Taeyong’s muse be his Gala to his Dalí (7), his Floge to his Klimt (8)? One thing’s for certain: this mystery muse will either make or break his career.

   You stared numbly at the lit screen, which grew dark and powered off as you stopped interacting with the screen.    Was... was Taeyong using you?    A range of emotions besieged your tired mind.    Doubt was the first wave, followed by a cavalry of Worry charging through your rather pathetic moat of logic. Hurt came up hard and quick to your flank and mercilessly attacked your mental stronghold, puncturing holes in your defense and riddling your conscious.    Heart pounding, you typed in the password quickly and searched up “muse”. Countless articles popped up before you. You adjusted your searches accordingly and therein, you found your grail. However, with each passing article, you grew more horrified. Nobuyoshi Araki and Kaori (9), Picasso and Gilot (10), Bertolucci and Schneider (11)— each one more terrifying than the last. While you were not sexually abused or beaten like some of the poor victims of the past few centuries, the message was clear: Taeyong was using you for his art, and his art only.

   The tea kettle whistled as you busy yourself making your breakfast on the beautiful marble countertops of Taeyong’s kitchen. The late morning sun was out and about, the birds were chirping, and you were all alone.    It wasn’t as if this were an unusual occurrence; for the past few weeks, you rarely woke to see Taeyong sleeping next to you. He came back for a night, fucked you, and left in the morning. Sometimes the empty side of his bed was warm to the touch, and others, his lingering warmth was lone gone- either way, you were left to get ready for class alone, eat breakfast alone, and leave the house alone.    You fully understood why, though. The price of Taeyong’s explosive popularity led to him having to be out and about, whether for interviews or exhibition openings or banquets. It was better than having no work at all, at least, yet Taeyong’s face was plastered everywhere, and sometimes you thought the tabloids knew more about his life than you, his… whatever you were.    A jolt of pain jerks you out of your thoughts, and you yelp and jump back. Your finger had touched the end of your frying pan, and imprinted on the tip of your index fingertip was a bright red mark.    A hiss of pain escapes your mouth which quickly sucked at the tip of your finger, while you turned off the burner. Damn, it stung like hell!    Well, at least the eggs were done.    The plush, mahogany chair of the breakfast table squeaked as you pulled it back, and plopped you in your oversized t-shirt in the chair. The sencha tea bag, which had been steeped in the cup for a few minutes, was quickly retracted and you took a long sip of it.    You dialed up Olivia on facetime, who was sure to already be at school and in some secluded corner painting. A few rings led to Olivia, in newly dyed blue and purple hair, answering her phone with the camera angle at an awkward position.    “I don’t think I really want to see the inside of your nostrils, Livy. No one does, really.”    She stuck out her tongue and snorted.    “Bitch, the boys be paying to see my face, much less my nostrils. No one wants to see your ugly ass face!” Olivia drawled while she turned her attention to her painting.    “Taeyong does. In fact, people pay millions to get a piece!” you snark back.    Olivia drops her paintbrush into a water cup and pouts at her phone screen.    “...fine. Speaking of, how is Mister Big D--”    “OLIVIA!” you shout, almost choking on your eggs.    “Oh fine, fine! Either way, how is he?”    “We’re… we’re doing fine,” you happy smile slowly turns into a frown, and you look down into your tea. You stir the tea a bit and see the minuscule tea leaves swirl around like a  mini tornado.    “It doesn’t sound fine, though,” Olivia raises an eyebrow.    “I… you’re right. I really don’t know anymore, Olivia,” you sigh and look away from the phone screen. Your eyes catch sight of the pristine living room, the late morning sun streaming beautiful rays through the floor-to-ceiling windows. The TV was as pitch black as the night, the comforter you brought in, untouched, and the pillows, fluffed. All lifeless.    “Oh, sweetie. I’ve been suspecting this for weeks,” Olivia says sympathetically as she dabbles some oil onto the canvas. She sets down the sponge and turns her full attention to you, her brows furrowed.    “It’s just that… Taeyong isn’t around here anymore. When he’s gone, I’m here, and when he’s here, I’m gone. I haven’t seen him in weeks!” you shout, and your fork clatters down on your plate.    “Wow, okay, chill. Y/n. Breathe. Have you at least tried to meet up with him for a date or whatever?”    You pout. “Yes, but he’s always busy or has to cancel. Sometimes, we do manage to make our schedules fit together and everything’s fine, but still!”    “ I really wish I could help, y/n. Really.” Olivia says sympathetically.    You burrow your face into your hands while tears sting at your eyes. Muffled sobs escape your lips while tears finally escape from your eyes. Your breakfast lay beside you cold and uneaten.    “I-I don’t k-know anymore. I-I saw a news article this morning and my mind went crazy and maybe I’m being paranoid or a butthurt bitch but I think he’s using me and-” you sob.    “Oh, sweetie,” all playful insults and snarky wit were gone from Olivia’s tone as she tried to keep you company from miles away in a cold, dark, and dusty penthouse.

   You couldn’t do this anymore.    Gone were the days Taeyong and you would wake up and bed and have another round and eat breakfast together, the days he would take you out to the city and watch an indie band in the local coffee shop, or the days he would bring to art openings. It just stopped.    There were days you woke up in bed alone, after Taeyong pounded you into the mattress the night before, feeling used. Like some dime and dozen whore out of the red light district. Who were you, anymore? What use were you anymore? What did you mean to Taeyong?    School went by, albeit slowly. You passed your architecture final and were in your 2nd year of college. You did pretty decently in the class at least, but the course and the rigor made you more miserable as the months went by. The novelty of your compliance to your father’s wishes wore off and made you wish to escape.    Taeyong, your degree, and emotional distress just made you break down one day. Right in the middle Taeyong’s hallway after class ended. No warning whatsoever. After piecing yourself back together and getting your fatigued and pathetic self into the bed, you started to think.    This was hell.    Olivia warned you weeks and weeks ago, begging you to let go of the artist no matter how much he admired him. She had lost all respect for him and quickly threw away the posters of his paintings she had had before Taeyong met you, completely ignored him when you were with him and her, and ripped up her thesis paper about his artwork. She even offered you refuge from the older man, pleading for you to stay in her apartment to get away from him.    You were done.

   Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.    The keypad clicked open and in walked Lee Taeyong into his apartment. Still clad in a suit, the artist had returned back to his apartment from his negotiations with a famous gallery to display his artwork. A long and arduous meeting, it had lasted way longer than the handsome man expected, and he had finally wrangled out a successful deal. His works would be displayed for a year at the famed Gagosian Gallery in Chelsea.    It was his dream since he was a young, starving art student living paycheck to paycheck in a studio apartment, who could barely speak English and was 7000 miles away from his family.    But why was he so unhappy?    He shut the door and sighed. He loosened his necktie and threw his wine-red blazer onto the coat rack, then ruffled his hair as he walked through the foyer.       He felt bad for leaving you constantly like this. He just kept getting called on and pulled away constantly to the point where he sometimes forgot that there was a woman waiting for him back home. He tried to make it up with nights of passionate sex, pounding you into the mattress and making you cum several times in succession. He couldn’t remember the last time he had taken you out somewhere… was it a month ago? A month and a half?    “Y/n?”    No response.    “...Y/n?”    He walked through the halls but there was something... off about his house. He couldn’t smell your scent of peaches of cream strongly, only faintly, like you were long gone. It looked… emptier. Dustier.    Darker.    “Y/N!”    A rising sense of panic surged up and seized Taeyong’s heart beating back and forth. Ba-bump ba bump ba bump. In vain, he tried to calm his mind, his rationale fruitlessly trying to withhold judgment, yet it seemed his heart was going to beat right out of his chest.    It isn’t true, it isn’t true, it isn’t true—    His vision narrowed as he ripped through his house. Every room in the vast apartment suite is empty. He threw open the kitchen cupboard. Your handmade coffee mug from one of the pottery students in Pearson’s isn’t there. He nearly tripped over the ottoman. Your ridiculous throw blanket with cartoon corgis plastered all over it is absent from his leather sectional. He pounds against the floorboards of the hallway, Your subway pass isn’t in the bowl in the hall.    It seems like his loosened tie was choking him as he ran to the end of the hall, your bedroom. He slammed open the door, the doorstop only barely preventing it from hitting and damaging the wood-paneled walls. Taeyong’s carpet muffled his frantic footsteps. The french doors with its billowing curtains were thrown open, but you weren’t on the balcony, lounging on the patio chair or couch reading a book.    The marble bathroom he loved to fuck you in and take long baths in while sipping decades-old wine was deserted. Your combs and products were gone, and the J’Adore Dior perfume he bought you when you were passing by Neiman Marcus sat on the counter, lonely.    Incoherent nonsense escaped his lips as he slid open the large, walk-in closet doors. The other half of the closet you and him had organized together, him grumbling when he had to push his clothes back, was simply abandoned. Wire hangers hanging on the pole, absent of the soft clothes that smelled like peaches and cream.    He clutched his chest through his shirt, and leaned on the dressing table in the middle of the closet, his breaths coming out in staccato, short and sharp. She couldn’t do this, she couldn’t do this, she couldn’t do this to me—    A scrap of paper caught his attention out of his peripheral vision. With trembling hands, he scooped it up and held it to his pale face.    I don’t think I can do this anymore, Taeyong. Thank you.

   You pulled the corgi patterned blanket around you and sipped some hot chocolate, while Olivia was retrieving the cheese Pringles from her pantry. You clicked on the television and scrolled what to watch on Netflix.    “Hey, Livy!”    “What!” she shouted from the back of the kitchen.    “Can we watch the Purge?!” you yelled as you read through the description.    “The fuck! NO!” Olivia said as she walked back in her penguin onesie into the living room.    “I’m the one who’s suffering from a break-up, bitch! I get to choose the movie and I want to scream my ass off!”    “Y/n, I don’t think that’s what you’re supposed to do after a breakup? Aren’t you supposed to watch the Notebook while in tears and a tub of ice cream in your hands?” she questions as she plops down on the couch.    You look around exaggeratedly. “The Notebook? Nope, watching the Purge. Tears? Already cried out. Ice cream? I think fuck not, I want cheesy Pringles.” “Fine, fine. Whatever.” Olivia grumbles as she stuffs several cheese pringles into her mouth.    The day you had turned up on Olivia’s doorstep, bags in hand and tears streaming from red-rimmed eyes, she had graciously allowed you to stay with her. Days and days were spent with you crying in her arms, probably going through 3 tissue boxes and ice cream tubs. You were absolutely devastated after packing up and abandoning Taeyong, wondering if it was the right thing to do and if you were a horrible person for doing so.    Olivia dismissed your worries, stating you were totally in the rights and proclaimed “good riddance!” while stomping on a Polaroid of you and Taeyong at Hyde Park.    You were still devastated of course, even after several weeks. The ache in your heart wouldn’t go away no matter how many tubs of ice cream you stuffed down your throat, and a permanent frown was always fixed in place. You missed the red-haired man with all your soul, even if you abandoned him with no warning and quite callously. You blocked his number, his email, his social media, everything you could think of to completely cut him out of your life. Photos of him were trashed and the gifts given to you by him were still in the apartment.    But at the very least, from this complete purge and detox of your life, came something that you had always wanted to do but never could do.    You switched degrees.   You woke up one day and said, fuck it, and went to the administration to completely switch departments.    Yes, it was extremely sudden. Uncharacteristically sudden of you, the girl who was afraid to go out with her friends on a school night. Too sudden of the girl that was afraid to skip class and skive off with her friends. Maybe it wasn’t the best decision to make such an important decision on the fly, but at this point, you didn’t care. You wanted to live the way you wanted, the way you needed, and all fucks that were given were thrown carelessly to the wind.   Soon enough, you were transferred into the appropriate classes to obtain a degree in Fine Arts, even taking some classes with Olivia. Your parents were understandably furious, shouting at you over the phone for wasting their money and wrecking your future. Your father, after a long rant that lasted almost 30 minutes, spitefully told you he wasn’t going to support this “destructive behavior” and wouldn’t pay for your next semesters. While you were sad that you and your parent’s relationship would probably be strained for the next few years, you were the happiest you could remember being. The royalties from Taeyong’s paintings you earned could pay your tuition a few times over, so you were stable. You finally could do what you wanted.    But Taeyong.    Your thoughts drifted to the letter you had received from a professor that afternoon previous.

   “Y/n! Could you stay back for a moment?” Professor Andrews called out as the rest of the class shuffled out of the classroom.    You head popped up like a deer in headlights, eyes wide.    “Uh, yes?”    You removed the hood from your head and navigated through your fellow classmates to the teaching podium, where your art history professor was standing imperiously.    Was something wrong? Were your papers not good enough, because you transferred in so late?    Your hands patted down your errant hair and straightened your sweatpants. You swallowed nervously. Professor Andrew was notorious for her strict grading, many people failing and flunking out of the class because of the numerous red marks all over their papers and tests.    “Professor Andrews?” you hesitantly ask as you stand in front of the podium.    “Y/n, just the girl I wanted to see.”    She stepped down from the podium in impossible sky-high heels to stand before you. She smiled, her black hair streaked with gray pulled back in a tight bun and it softened her face. You nervously smiled back.    “A prized former student of mine asked me to give this to you. He begged many of his contacts at Parsons to deliver this directly into your hands but alas, I was the only contact who had you in my class.”        She produced a white envelope from her desk and put it in your hands. From the feel of the paper, it was soft; made of vellum.    Vellum.    The material of the calling card offered to you by… that man was vellum, and who else would deliver you a card made from the expensive material?    “Uh, professor, I’m afraid— “    Professor Andrews grasped my hands with her wrinkled palms and look me directly into my eyes. Her normally piercing gaze that could bring a student to tears was soft and concerned, unfamiliar to you.    “Y/n, I am not supposed to interfere but… he looked so gaunt when he came to me. The sparkle was gone from his eyes, his bravado diminished into a shell of what it was, his tone so tired and beaten down. Especially with his indefinite hiatus—”    “What?” Your head snapped up from the envelope in shock.    Your professor furrowed her brows. “You didn’t know? He announced an indefinite hiatus around the time you first transferred in. He said that no more art would be produced until he decided to become active again.”    “I didn’t know…” you murmured as you stroked your thumb over the envelope.    “I don’t know what sort of relationship the two of you had, as it’s not my business, but whatever it was, he needed you. Desperately.”

   You had only opened it when you came home from school. A polaroid of a painting that you could barely discern placed in a dark room. One message was written on the back.    Please tell me what I did wrong.    What were you supposed to do with that?    In the movie, the doorbell was wrung by the Polite Leader beseeching the Sandins to let them release their prey to hunt.    Should you respond to him? Should you completely ignore him? Which one would be more beneficial to your health?    If you didn’t respond to him, the ache in your heart would forever be there. You would be scarred from men forever because the man who took your virginity broke your heart and used you like a toy. You would never know his side of the story.    But, if you responded to him, you would at least know his side. Have some redemption. Perhaps get in a slap. Maybe you would have a chance to stop the ache in your heart.    Well, if you were brave enough the change degrees, you sure as hell could confront your ex-... whatever he was. Lover? Boyfriend?    You would do this.    “Olivia, I’m going to do something really quickly,” you said as you removed your self from the tangle of food and pillows.    “What!” She squawked. It seemed the Purgers had broken into the house already. “Bitch, you wanted to see this stupid movie and I ain’t seeing it alone!”    “And you can survive for the full minute that I will vacate this room,” as your rushed into the guest bedroom to retrieve your phone.    You scrolled down your recents and found Taeyong’s number. With trembling fingers, you unblocked his number and texted him.    927 New Haven Apartment Complex. Apartment 507. Tuesday at 6 PM.    2 days from now, Olivia was going to be out of the apartment for Thanksgiving Break with her family in South Carolina. You, with the way things were with your father, decided it wouldn’t be the best decision to go home so you decided to stay home Within a minute, a message bubble popped up.    Thank you. I’ll be there. ~ TY

   You tapped your foot impatiently as you sat at the breakfast table of Olivia’s apartment. Looking out the window, you saw a drizzle of rain wash over the foliage below and heard the usual sounds of the city. With the weather like this, you couldn’t blame Taeyong for being at least a bit late.    5:50. It read on the electronic clock in the kitchen. The house was empty, with Olivia bidding you adieu yesterday to visit her family.    You had gotten ready an hour before, you were so nervous. At least 4 outfits were tried on, scrutinized, and then thrown to the ground before deciding the 5th outfit was adequate. The dress was too formal, the sweatshirt too casual, but the skinny jeans and t-shirt combo was perfect. See, you didn’t want to look too desperate when Taeyong came in, in fact, you were trying to be standoffish—    Knock knock knock.    Your heart beat a stamp into your ribs, while the feeling in the pit of your stomach roiled. Your hand clasped the doorknob, unlocked, and swung it open.    Taeyong, in his great glory, stood there. Just seeing the eyes that made you fall in love made your heart stutter, just a tiny bit.    However, Prof. Andrews was not wrong. Taeyong still retained his classical good looks, all sharp lines, and angles, but those lines were sharper and those angles were deeper. He looked gaunt and pale, and dressed in a black button-up it contrasted to his skin so greatly it made him look even paler. There were shadows under his eyes, but his eyes were still smoldering. Still as enigmatic as always.    “Taeyong. Come in,” you regained what little dignity you had left and graciously let him in through the door. He nodded silently and slipped off his glossy black Gucci loafers and took your lead into the kitchen.    “Do you want something to drink? Water? Tea?” you asked as you leaned against the counter and crossed your arms.    “No, I’m fine. Thank you,” Taeyong murmured as he sat uncomfortably in his chair.    An awkward silence prevailed as you stood in each other’s presence as the first time in months. Heavy, tense silence grew between the two of you as you fumbled with a knick-knack on the counter and his eyes darted nervously around. It had been far too long, but the way he sat there banished the feeling of something missing from your mind.    “I thought you were on hiatus?” you said, and waved around the Polaroid of the painting.    “I am. I just said no paintings were being released, that’s all; not that I couldn’t paint anything,” Taeyong sighed.    “Ah.”    Another heavy silence.    Annoyed by the lack of action, you harshly slammed the knick-knack onto the counter. Taeyong didn’t jump, but his eyes darted to you far too fast to be casual.    “Well, Lee Taeyong? Why are you in this apartment?” you sarcastically shot at him.    “I wanted to ask why you left me. Humor me; let me into that infuriating brain of yours, Y/n.”    “I think I already made it clear when I vacated the apartment, Lee Taeyong. I even left a note. Or were you far too busy with your obligations to remember that?” you venomously spat.    “Stop calling me that! We’re not fucking strangers!” Taeyong suddenly shouted, scooting back his chair suddenly. His fists were balled up and he had an awful look of fury on his face.    “What? Lee Taeyong? Well, I call you that because we might as well be!” you shout back.    “Damn it, Y/n! Why the fuck did you leave me, huh? Was I not good enough for you? Was I not rich enough for you? Hell, did I not fuck good enough for you?” Taeyong snapped at you, gripping the table tops so hard his knuckles turned white.    “You must one cocky son of a bitch to think I wanted you for your fucking money or your dick! I left because I know nothing about you!”    “What are you talking about?! I shared my home with you—”    “Shut up, Taeyong! I fucking trusted you with my dreams and hopes and life but you gave nothing of yourself to me! I confided in you, I told you about my past and my present, and I bared my soul and body to you! While you, always the goddamn unfathomable and ambiguous Lee Taeyong, gave me nothing of you! Zero! Zilch! Nada! I don’t know what I am to you! What was I supposed to think, y- you bastard?” you voice cracked, as you stared up at his eyes.    “Y-you” your voice broke and turned hoarse “y-you treated me like a toy. You took my virginity. You only called me over to fuck— I felt I was a whore. You gave me the best nights of my life, but you left me scarred for the rest of my nights.    His silence wrung as heavily in your ears as his shouting did. It wrung in your ears like a siren while, he could only look at you with an inscrutable expression of his face, like he couldn’t figure out whether to get angry or cry.    “Get out, Taeyong. Go use someone else to make money off of. Go be dishonest somewhere else.” You spit out and close your eyes. Your back turned to him at you stare at the textured cream wall, desperately not trying to burst out bawling.    “No.”     You spin around on your heel to yell at him some more, but Taeyong appears at your back few inches away from you, far too close for comfort. His inscrutable expression morphed into something that looked like determination, and his smoldering eyes held you in place as he wrapped his arms around your waist. Your mouth drops open in shock at his audacity before he leans his forehead to yours and sighs.    “My name is Lee Taeyong.” he started out quietly, eyes closed as if in prayer. “I am 27. I’m from Seoul, South Korea. I like to paint, I love macarons, and I hate dirty rooms. But you already know that. I am Lee Taeyong. I never really got along with my mother, perhaps that’s the reason I’m doing so bad with you.” He laughed bitterly. “She raised me to close off myself to others, not ever to trust a female. But I can’t blame her for… for my behavior. I am scared of the people who judge me, even though I am an artist and am constantly judged by the public, critics still make me want to put down my paints.”     “I came to the US when I was 19, on scholarship to Parsons. I didn’t know English very well at all, and I struggled to communicate with those around me, and I chose to delve into my craft even deeper. You… inspired me, and remember my speech at Parsons? I didn’t know how true it was until you entered my life. I didn’t know to what extent inspiration turned into obsession, how intensive it went. I’m not using you just to make money; you genuinely make my heart lighter and make me feel things I haven’t ever felt, and these things were hard to communicate. I did the best way I could, by painting you just the way I see you, but I think I didn’t get through to you.”    “I didn’t mean to make you feel like some on-call whore. I thought… I thought I could make up my absences with time spent in bed with you. That my missing days from home could be covered up by a few drawn-out orgasms. Guess it didn’t work, because you aren’t at home. With me. In my studio. In our kitchen. In our bed.” Taeyong lifted his forehead from yours and buried in your hair. He took a deep breath, comforted and saddened all at once at the familiar smell of peaches-and-cream that still plagued his memories like a ghost. The smell that he could faintly smell in the shower that he tried to scrub off until his skin turned red.    “But most importantly, the thing that you should know about me, in all my bumbling attempts to make you mine, is that I… I care for you. Fuck, I love you, and I’m so goddamn sorry I drove you away from our home. Please tell me it isn’t too late, because I’m sorry for everything I’ve done to make you feel used and unwanted. Please.”    His tone, cracked and anguished and interwoven with sadness, wrenched at your heart. He sounded so desperate, so unlike his usual suave baritone that it felt like you were listening to a song and the track skipped ahead a few beats and now all the singing was off-beat.    His mysterious nature, that you thought was permanently affixed to his character, was slowly crumbling around you. The days where you thought the gleam in his eyes was an enigmatic sparkle of that he knew something that you didn’t were gone; you could see that sparkle was of passion and affection, and a million other things in the universe that was all for you.    You didn’t realize you were crying until you could feel the wet button up of Taeyong was pressing into your cheek. Taeyong was making little shushing noises, stroking your back and whispering comforting things into your things.    “I… It’s not too late,” you whisper.    Taeyong’s head snapped up to meet your gaze, mouth partly open in shock. You smiled through your tears and stroked his cheek. You stood on your tippy-toes and gave him a kiss on his cheek, while he stood stutteringly still.    “It’s… it’s my fault too. I didn’t say anything, didn’t try to talk to you about my problems, or rather, didn’t try hard enough. I should’ve at least tried to work this out, instead of sulking about my problems like some child, before walking out of our house. I’m so sorry too, I was so rash and didn’t even let you have a chance to know what you did wrong,” you said while holding his hands.    Taeyong’s face split into a genuine smile, and dipped his head into a deep kiss, pressing you even closer to him. You missed this so much, a part of you that came together, and you responded two-fold, tilting your head to deepen the lip-lock. You gasped as his tongue entered your lips and you moaned softly, running your hands over his broad shoulders. He disengaged from lip-lock and trailed kisses all over your face. Over your brows, over your temples, over the bridge of your nose, everywhere. You giggled, ticklish from the sensation and his lips pulled up into a smirk. The hands you were using to run over his chest wandered to the lapel of his shirt, and tugged. Your hands played with the buttons before Taeyong released you suddenly.    “What?” you pouted, biting your lip and looking at him coquettishly.    His eyes darkened even further before a growl escaped his lips.    “Don’t test me Y/n, we can’t have it now. Later.”    “Why not now? Don’t you want me?”    “I do, fuck, I want to pound you until the mattress breaks, but I don’t wanna introduce sex into our relationship too soon. I don’t want to rush this like last time,” Taeyong says, stroking your fingers.    “Well, if what you said before about not wanting to fuck and chuck is true, I don’t mind it. In fact, I want it.” You take your hands out of his hold and “accidentally” brush it across his rising erection.    “Y/n,” he growls warningly, but you toss caution to the wind and push the palm of your hand into his slacks.    “Please?”    His lips curl up into a menacing smile, and he pushes you to the counter.    “If you want it, well, I live to serve,”    He tugs on your shirt, and assists in alleviating you of your shirt. You keep your lips on him, furiously making out with him. The artist pushes down your skinny jeans, his fingers brushing over your skin teasingly, soaking your panties clear through.    Once he rises up, his eyes darken even more as he scans your body, clad in just a bra and tiny panties while looking up at him with wide eyes. Licking his lips, he leans down and laves at your collarbone enticingly, while you throw your head back in ecstasy. Taeyong’s fingers pull down the cups of your bra, his thumbs rubbing circles on your aeolas making the tips of your breasts even stiffer.    “Mmph!” you moan, one hand covering your mouth while the other one is propped up to support you.    Taeyong scoops you up in his arms while you squeal.    “Which door?”    “The… the first one on the right,” you panted, barely able to talk while kissing him.    He manages to get the door open with you in his arms (an impressive feat) and throws you down on the bed. He rips off his black button up, showcasing his impressive chest that you missed, and loosens his belt.    You lean forward quickly and get back on your knees, pulling down his pants and pulling his cock out his briefs. Turgid and thick, it was exactly how you remembered. You stroked him a bit, while he threw his head back while clutching your shoulders tightly, and your mouth curled up into a cat-like grin. While rubbing the pre-cum over his head, Taeyong interrupted you.    “Y/n, I want to go down you. You can get my dick later,” Taeyong huffs as he rips your hand away from his cock.    “But I want it now, Tae. Can’t we do 69?” you asked while playing the straps of your bra.    “...fine.” Taeyong relents and helps you remove your bra and panties.    He gets down on the bed, while you climb over him and position your core directly on his face. You get eye-level with his pulsating cock and the hard tips of your breast rub his pectorals, stimulating quite nicely.    As soon as your fingers touched his cock, Taeyong sinful tongue poked at the entrance to your pussy. You unintentionally squeezed harder, and he moaned breathily, his hot breath on your vagina. Since Taeyong was rubbing his tongue over your entrance, but never entering, you decided to amp it up a notch.    You opened your lips over his dick, poking your tongue out, but only touching him slightly. He moaned, and you left little licks and kisses over his erection, fleeting touches that made his cock even harder. Taeyong seemed to get annoyed, and just fully inserted his tongue into your pussy. You whined and ground your core into his face, mouth leaving his dick momentarily and it hitting your cheeks you put your head down.    As Taeyong finally got out his hands to touch your clit, you put the length of his in his throat. You could feel the fine tremor of his thighs on your chest, and you alternated between hard and soft suction. However, you could barely think as his tongue moved in patterns on your clit, his fingers pistoning in and out. As his tongue touched your clit and his fingers touched a spot, you clenched hard and felt yourself release. You decided to speed up your handjob, and Taeyong explodes over your hand, streams of white come covering your pumping hand and slightly splattering you in the face.    The two of you rest there for a while before Taeyong’s dick rises a bit. You giggled, and you felt Taeyong lift you up from your position and putting you on your back on the bed. He loomed over you, and you clenched your thighs together to stop your juices from getting everywhere, but he wrenched them open and inserted himself between them.    “You ready, Y/n?”    “Absolutely,” you panted, a bit more wantonly than you would’ve liked.    His lips curled up in that smirk that made you fall in love with him, and he wasted no time in putting himself in.    The two of you groaned from the friction, not used to the pleasurable feelings running through your veins and in your hearts from the past few months. It felt like a homecoming, however cheesy it was, because him, here, with you, made you feel at ease.    Lubricated as you were, he set a gentle yet fast pace, slamming into you and making the bed frame rock. You didn’t know where to put your hands, one moment it was clutched tightly at sheets, and the other it was scratching down Taeyong’s back. He clenched his teeth and rocked into you faster, his biceps bulging with the effort. You every inch and crevice of his dick in your pussy, fitting perfectly with the contour of your walls.    “Taeyong!” you moan, absolutely overwhelmed by the intense pleasure and the emotional homecoming.    “Be my lover. Be my girlfriend. Be mine,” Taeyong gasped as his hips slammed into yours, creating a lewd slapping noise throughout the bedroom.    “My home… our home feels darker without you. It misses you. I miss you,” he continues.    “Say yes, darling.”    “YES!” you nearly screech out, delirious from the pleasure Taeyong was inflicting upon you. Your pussy clenched tightly around his veiny cock and released its juices. Taeyong let out an involuntarily moan and explodes, cum releases in spurts in your vagina. The two of you collapse, feeling as if a nova exploded in the room.    When your breathing as calmed down, and the aftershocks of pleasure slowly fade away, you stroke his hair.    “I think I love you,” you muse, as your fingers run through his soft black hair.    He lifts his head from your chest and smiles at you, pressing a little kiss on your collarbone.    “You’re gonna move with back in with me, right? I didn’t say that without purpose,” Taeyong murmurs, fingers drawing lines over your sensitive skin.    “I will as long as you promise me that we’ll work on communication together.”    “My darling, I would do anything for my muse.”

   The panoramic television Taeyong bought was humming softly in the background, announcing the news of Taeyong’s comeback from hiatus. The adorable corgi the two of you bought was jumping around the living room, your stupid corgi-covered throw blanket settled onto the couch once again.    You scan the small portrait of your likeness as Taeyong cradles you with his body, his head upon your shoulder and arms resting comfortably around your waist. You unconsciously lean back into him, luxuriating in his warmth and familiarity. You reluctantly break from his hold as you circle around the piece, reverent of its attention to detail and intimate vulnerability expressed in the piece. The golden plate near the base caught your eye, gleaming in the dying sunlight.    Raison D’etre.    Purpose for Existence.    Your head quickly snapped up towards his gaze and you stumbled back. 3 tiny words had the effect of a grenade, catching you off guard and leaving you in shell-shock. Just 3 tiny words made you feel like a sonic boom had swept through Taeyong’s studio and you, the unfortunate bystander, were left deafened and dazed. 3 tiny words.    “You… do you not go too far, Taeyong?”    His eyes contain a maelstrom intensive feelings. Love, passion, obsession were all rendered just as clearly with his gaze as with his oils or paints.    “Do I?”

(A/N: this a piece i have been on for a long ass time, so it is one of the best pieces i have ever written in my entire career lmao. i hope you enjoyed it as i did writing it! please like, reblog, and comment!)

Notations:

(1) Alexander Calder, an American sculptor who is best known for his innovative mobiles that embrace chance in their aesthetic and his monumental public sculptures. 

(2) Lovers- Wyeth (1981) - Part of the Helga Pictures, 240 paintings of Helga Testorf (Andrew Wyeth’s Muse and Mistress)

(3) The woman in the picture, Helga Testorf, was not a hired model. Wyeth, while married, embarked on a tempestuous affair with her and created 240 paintings.

(4) Phaedrus is a dialogue between Plato's protagonist, Socrates, and Phaedrus. The central theme of this dialogue is Eros. The problem of love serves as the provocation for the speeches, the content of the speeches and the reflection upon speech as a whole.

(5) Sotheby’s Auction House (NY)- One of the world's largest brokers of fine and decorative art, jewelry, real estate, and collectibles. It’s a big, big deal TY’s painting was sold there.

(6) Camille Claudel was the pupil of Auguste Rodin, a famous sculptor, and she eventually became his mistress. Auguste promised to leave his wife for Camille but that never happened. She went insane and was committed to a mental asylum, while Rodin went on to become an acclaimed artist. There are many doubts on how much Camille contributed to his most famous sculptures like The Thinker (because women as sculptors was unthinkable for the time).

(7) Salvador and Gala Dalí. Gala was married when she met surrealist oil painter Salvador Dalí (who painted The Persistence of Time), and immediately left her husband to be with Salvador. Gala was Salvador’s ultimate muse- he deified her in his paintings. The surrealist movement is often noted for its expression of the human subconscious and dream-state, exploring human desires and wild fantasy. For Dalí to imagine Gala in his dreams, he was extremely obsessed with her (even though she was a gold-digger and abusive).

(8) Gustav Klimt and Emilie Flöge. Gustav, who painted The Kiss, was lifelong partners with Emilie yet there was no proved romantic relationship between them. However, Gustav painted Emilie in The Kiss and many other works, leading many to believe they were romantically involved.

(6, 7, 8)- They say behind every great man is a great woman. The women mentioned above were crucial to each man’s success and artistic style. Each artist and his muse had a different sort of relationship, so that is why the newspaper mused on what type of relationship TY and Y/N had.

(9)- Nobuyoshi Araki and Kaori: Nobuyoshi Araki’s long-time model KaoRi has publicly accused the renowned Japanese photographer of misleading her into working without a contract, distributing pictures of her around the world without her knowledge or consent, and failing to compensate her fairly for her time or for her her role in Araki’s work. They weren’t lovers.

(10) Picasso and Gilot. Gilot had 2 children with Picasso and left, infuriating the famous Cubist painter who painted Guernica and The Old Guitarist.

(11) (TW) Bernado Bertolucci and Schneider. Bertolucci, an acclaimed film maker, was accused by actress Schneider for including a rape scene that wasn’t in the original script of the 1972 film Last Tango in Paris. Schneider was raped by her fellow actor Marlon Brando and the tears in the scene were real.

(9, 10 ,11)- These examples of horrible, abusive relationships between artists and their muses causes Y/N some worry, leading her to believe dear TY is using her.

[your-anxious-nightmare]

Adventures In Dad-ing (9)

Y'all ready to be crushed?? Sorry this took so long, I've been in a weird place lately but I'm sick of this sitting in my WIP's and I wanna write more again. If you have any ideas for later chapters or scenes you wanna see, hit me up.

Summary: Flashback to when and why Virgil was late that time that lead to Roman asking him out. Word Count: 1303 Relationships: ex-Virgil/OC, mentioned Remile Previous Chapters: One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight,  Tags:  @katatles-the-fish   @karma-the-tax-collector   @analogical-mess Ao3 Warnings: This deals vaguely with the beginnings of a custody battle and teh abusive ex comes back into teh picture so be careful young ones. 

It’s funny, really, how quickly your life can fall apart.

You build a foundation, create fields of flowers and design the perfect castle all for it to come crumbling down in two minutes flat.

Virgil Casey had a perfect life. He had a brilliant son, a good job, his mental health was mostly in check. Everything was going well.

Until that day.

Remember when Virgil was running late and Patton got left at school, resulting in Roman asking the cute dad out? This is why.

It was a Monday, one of the cafe’s busiest days, but the boss knew that Virgil had to be out of there by 2:30 in order to pick his son up from school. Usually, there was no problem with that, but that fateful day, someone walked in at 1 pm, just as Virgil’s mind was ticking off for the day.

Virgil’s anxiety had been acting up all day, he would flinch at louder than usual customers and knocked several of the businesses plastic mugs off the counter. So when the bell rang, his head snapped up quicker than Patton’s when cookies were mentioned.

A woman sauntered in, blonde hair falling over her shoulders in perfect ringlets, lips painted in red and stiletto heels tall enough to kill a man. Her sharp blue eyes glared over dark sunglasses, locking on the shocked man behind the counter.

“Virgil, what a surprise.” She drawls, perfectly white teeth glinting in the soft lighting of the cafe.

“Meghann.” He breathes, hands starting to shake. She struts over, leaning on the counter. Her low cut shirt exposes flesh that really should only be seen at midnight in the type of club Virgil would never step foot in.

“Oh Darling, it’s been so long.” She winks, “Tell me, how’s the little one doing? I never did get to say goodbye.”

“You were the one that left. Don’t even try that shit.” Feigning confidence, Virgil pushes away from the counter, stepping out from the staff area to stand face to chest with the woman. “I’m gonna have to ask you to leave, we don’t serve __”

“I just wanted to say hi, no need to be so rude.” She sneers, crowing her arms as the short man looks up at her. “Oh, and give you these.” She thrusts a hand out, a collection of papers hitting Virgil straight in the chest, winding him briefly. As he gets his breath back, Mayghann turns on her heel and sashays her way out of the building.

Confused, Virgil places the papers on the counter to straighten them before scanning his eyes over the first page.

Applicant: Meghann Frost Respondent: Virgil Casey

Contents: Application for change of custody regarding Patton Casey

Virgil’s heart stops.

His lungs freeze mid-breath.

If you had told him a week ago that his abusive ex would find him at his workplace to serve him a summons to court for custody of his son, he would’ve laughed and called you crazy.

But as he stares at the inked papers, tears brim in his eyes.

Virgil Casey, the strong-willed, determined, caring single father, shuts down. His mind runs a million miles an hour as he tries to process it all, his body failing to respond for a solid five minutes before someone intervenes.

A grounding hand rests on his shoulder.

His apron is removed and placed on its hook.

He’s pushed into a booth, the papers are placed in front of him on the table.

A warm mug is pressed into his hands.

It’s not until the coffee has gone half cold before Virgil snaps out of it. His head spinning and heart beating faster than ever before. His eyes scan over the mug, ignoring the papers glaring at him in favour of looking at the person that helped him over to the seat in the first place.

Remy, Virgil’s boss who barely ever actually works, sits in front of him, sunglasses pushed up so his dual coloured eyes are on full show. His white shirt is half unbuttoned and pushed up to his elbows, showing off his toned chest as he leans forward on the table.

“Remy,” Virgil breaths slowly, still adjusting to coming back to reality.

“Hey Virgil, you doin’ okay hun?” His usual smirk transforms into a soft smile. His hand waves to the young barista at the counter who smiles back, nodding in understanding.

“What am I gonna do?” Remy pushes a small plate across the table, the chocolate brownie barely making it halfway before Virgil starts picking at it. “I can’t afford a lawyer, I can barely afford our house. And I can’t put Patton through court, he doesn’t deserve that.” The barista brings over a new mug of steaming black coffee, taking the cold one just as Virgil shoves a large piece of food into his mouth.

“Virge, sweetie, you needa calm down. You’ll make yourself sick, worrying like that.” Remy moves the plate away, replacing it with the new mug.

“What am I supposed to do Rem?”

Remy and Virgil had been friends for years. When Virgil first moved into the area and was looking for a job, he came in with baby Patton in a pram and a hopeful look in his eyes. Remy had actually been working that day and was immediately in love with the chubby baby smiling up at him. He had darted around the counter, asking to pick up the child before giving him a hug and letting the boy chew on his sunglasses as he talked to the young man.

It was that same day that he offered Virgil a job. He put a crib in the staff room and cleared out the biggest locker so the man could store nappies and things, even going as far as to baby proof the whole cafe should the child get loose at some point.

They had quickly become friends, with matching sarcasm and a love for coffee, they were a match made in heaven. Had it not been for Remy’s already being engaged, he would’ve jumped the man, but neither was interested in being more than friends and Remy was very committed to his partner.

“Listen, I know a lawyer who often works in family court. He runs cheap, most often his cases are with those that can’t really afford to be there, so money won’t be too much of an issue to him. If need be, I can help,” Virgil opens his mouth but Remy twists his wrist, hushing the man quickly. “Do not, not only are you my employee, but you are also my friend, I am here to help you. Should it come to that point, I will help pay for any legal fees.”

“Remy…” The man doesn’t take no for an answer, sliding Virgil’s satchel across the table, having grabbed it while the man was zoned out, wrapping the leftover brownie in a napkin and tucking it into the pocket.

“Now, you have more than enough time to walk your perfect arse down to his office and get this sorted. I’ll give him a call and tell you’re coming.” Remy stands quickly, Virgil still sitting in surprise as he starts to tap his foot.

“Come on, Babes, I’m not paying you to sit on that cute little butt.” Virgil jumps up, swinging his bag over his shoulder and picking the papers up, making to leave. He stalls briefly, spinning on his heel to wrap his arms around the older man.

“Thank you so much, Remy, for everything.” He mumbles, running out the door before the man can even process that his little emo had shown him affection.

“Stupid emo making me feel things. Only Emi can do that.” The man mumbles, a smile creeping its way across his cheeks without permission.

[monstersandmaw]

White ermine mothman x female reader (sfw)

Edit which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.

This is a commission for @thekingsrock who asked for a super fluffy story with a female reader and an equally fluffy monster. I asked if they were ok with a mothman, and we went from there! I hope you enjoy!

___

You rolled your head, trying to ease some of the stiffness from your neck as you stood in line, waiting to order the smoothie you’d been craving for the last four hours at work. You needed something refreshing, delicious, and as packed full of neat antioxidants as you could get.

The folk in front of you were umm-ing and ahh-ing at the counter, the barista was getting super impatient but trying his hardest not to show it, and had been a hundred million degrees outside that day, only now beginning to cool off. You drew in a deep breath, trying to calm brain that was going a little ragged at the edges, and make the most of the cafe’s wonderful air-conditioning after a day in an office with AC units so ancient they might have been prototypes designed by Hephaestus himself…

As you stood there, closing your eyes for a moment, you became aware of the couple behind you talking about the ‘monsters’ who had recently begun integrating more into human society.

“I mean,” the woman said, sounding scandalised. “In my day, of course we knew about them, but you didn’t have some dirty great bat living next door! It just didn’t happen! They had the decency to take themselves off to the woods or wherever they belong, and they stayed there.”

“I know,” the man – presumably her husband – replied with equally offended gravity. “And that vile slime creature is living above us! Who knows what will ooze through the ceiling into our apartment. I don’t even want to think about it.”

“Can I help you?” the barista said, and you snapped back to the moment, realising the dithering party in front of you had finally made up their mind and ordered.

“I’m sorry,” you said. “I was miles away.”

“I’m sure it’s the heat,” he smiled. “And sorry to keep you waiting.”

You eyed the group waiting at the end of the counter for their drinks and looked back up at him. “It wasn’t your fault…” you said and he smiled. “I’ll have the ‘summer special’ smoothie to go please.”

“Anything extra with that?”

You shook your head. “Just the fruit please. I need it neat after today,” you grinned.

“Go easy on the hard stuff,” he laughed back as he put the order through. “It really packs a punch, or so I’m told.”

“I’m counting on it.” You paid, collected your fresh fruit smoothie that was really more of a work of art than a drink, and headed reluctantly back out into the evening.

It was still warm, though the sun was beginning to dip below the skyscrapers of the city. Taking a longer route home than usual, feeling the need to stretch your legs, you took a right and crossed the street, scuffing your heels and occasionally sipping on the smoothie. It was delicious but you really wanted to save it for when you were back home, and could curl up on the sofa and watch something trashy and mindless for a bit.

Emerging from the cut-through onto the street which bordered the city park, you saw a figure standing on the other side who was most definitely not human.

At first you thought it was a tall person wearing a white cape, dotted here and there with black spots, but then you noticed the thick ruffle at the neck, and the fact that there were two sets of arms reaching up to pluck ripe peaches from a tree in the park.

You had already begun crossing the deserted road when they looked around, and your lips parted in a soft gasp surprise when you saw the enormous, tapering, black eyes staring back at you. The long, dark, fluffy looking antennae twitched and those stunning wings fluttered. They shifted nervously and you saw that they had the most delicate feet imaginable; they hardly looked like they’d support the rest of the body at all.

“Hi,” you said as you approached.

The antenna gave another shiver, and then they opened their mouth to speak. “Hello,” they said shyly, voice soft and warm.

“You know,” you said, eyeing the tree, “I’ve walked along this road at least once a week for the last four years, and I’ve never noticed there’s a peach tree here.”

“Really?” they asked, antennae going stiff and the wings too. “I mean, haven’t you ever smelled it?”

You shook your head. “Nope.”

“Oh, you have to try one – here, let me get you one.”

With the delicacy of a surgeon, the moth reached up and plucked a ripe peach from a branch well out of your reach, and handed it down to you. Their hands were black, and only had two fingers and a thumb each, but as your fingers brushed their palm, you felt just how soft their skin was. The backs of their hands were covered in the same white, fluffy fur that covered the rest of their arms, shoulders, legs, and face. Their abdomen was fluffy too, but ribbed in ochre and black and white.

“There.”

“Thank you,” you said, biting into it. Juice ran down your chin and you giggled, reaching into your pocket for a tissue. “Wow, gosh, it’s delicious!”

“I’m Niall, by the way,” he said, holding out one of the lower of his two sets of hands for you to shake.

You stuck out your free hand – the one that didn’t have peach juice running down to your elbow – and shook it, managing to say your own name successfully around a mouthful of peach.

“Miss, could… could I ask you why you came over to talk to me?” he asked, his long, black antennae drooping slightly.

“Do you mind?” you asked, suddenly worried you’d intruded.

“No! Not at all!” he said, holding up all four hands and waving them anxiously. “No, I’m sorry. I just… I wondered why, that’s all.”

You laughed softly. “Honestly, I heard this older couple talking in the café just now about how in ‘their day’ non-humans wouldn’t have ‘dared show their faces’ in the city or some such bullshit, and then I saw you on my way home, and I got curious. I guess I wanted to meet someone who wasn’t human and make up my own mind. Does that make sense?”

He smiled sweetly and relaxed. “Yes,” he said. “It does. You know what?” he said, fluffing himself up slightly in a way that made you want to make a little noise; it was so cute. “I think this is the first conversation I’ve ever had with a human.” His antennae pricked up and he shuffled his wings again, making a little purring noise and immediately clamping a hand over his little mouth. “Excuse me,” he added, fidgeting his wings.

“Same for me, but the other way around,” you smiled, doing your best to ignore the unfathomably adorable noises he made. “I’m glad I did. Do you live in the city?”

He nodded. “A little garret room that’s perfect for me. Easy access to outside, with nice, cosy, warm corners to curl up in inside…”

“Sounds idyllic.” The sun finally dropped below the horizon and you yawned. “It’s been a long day. I’m going to head home through the park I think, but I’m glad I met you. Maybe I’ll spot some more things I’ve never noticed before…?”

He seemed to droop a bit again. “Would you like me to walk with you? I understand if it’s too presumptuous, but –”

“ – I’d love that,” you grinned.

He gathered up his small basket of peaches and held it in the crook of his lower elbow, and looked down at you. “May I offer you my arm?” he asked bashfully.

“You sound like you’ve been reading too many 19th century novels, Niall,” you laughed.

His wings fluttered. “Well… I don’t have much chance to talk to humans, and I do rather like literature. Forgive me if I’m… a little… out of touch…”

“You’re fine,” you giggled. “Just ease up on the Mr. Bingley act…?”

“You like Pride and Prejudice?” he chirruped as you slipped your hand into the deep fur of his arm.

“Yeah, I’ve read it,” you chuckled.

The two of you walked along the outer railing of the park for a while until you reached the entrance, and wound your way together through the gathering dusk.

You talked of this and that as you walked, and you found yourself warming more and more to the sweet figure beside you. He was tall, around six foot, and every time you passed a street light, he would pause his conversation and look up at it in fascination.

“You like the lights,” you commented as you passed a pond and the lights of the city reflected in its surface. His delicate feet stalled and he sighed wistfully at the glimmering points of light on the water.

His antennae flattened themselves to his head and he sighed. “Cliché much?” he sighed, wrenching his gaze away and letting it fall briefly on you.

“Maybe,” you said, “But you don’t have to be embarrassed about being enchanted by the lights. I like fairy lights myself – my apartment is full of them.”

“Really?” he asked. “I should like to see that. I mean –” he added, looking bashful again, “I’m not inviting myself in, I’m just… oh dear…”

“It’s alright,” you chuckled.

You left the park, and he walked you to your door. “Listen, would you like to come up?”

“I don’t want to intrude,” he said, letting go of you and stepping back gracefully.  

You held up the hardly-touched smoothie in one hand. “I was going to make some inroads into this,” you said invitingly. “Want to help me out?”

He turned his face to the smoothie cup and the very tip of his long tongue darted out, tasting the air. His antennae pricked up, his fur collar fluffed and his wings fluttered. “Is that… strawberry?”

You nodded.

“Oh gosh,” he said. “I have a horribly sweet tooth, especially for fruit…” He held up the basket of peaches as proof.

“Come on in then,” you said.

“Really?”

“Sure? Why not?”

“We just met!” he said. “I don’t want to sound ungrateful, but… Most humans are terrified of us. They definitely don’t invite us non-humans into their homes!”

You shoved the key into the lock and stepped inside, holding the door open. “Yeah, well, maybe I’m not like the humans you’ve met so far. Remember, I’ve got fairy lights…”

He laughed. “Perhaps I should be the one worrying about my safety if you’re so keen to get me inside.”

“But you’re so big!” you laughed. “I couldn’t take you down even if I tried! Look at me!”

He chuckled and fluttered his wings. “I can be intimidating if I need to, but if there’s smoothie and fairy lights, well…”

You showed him up, and he gasped as you flicked on the lights for him. Dazzled, mesmerised, he stood there, his wings slightly open, his antennae waving softly about, his hands hanging limp at his sides. Tiny fairy lights were trailed around every window-frame, glowing softly, and in a tall, ceramic vase on the floor in one corner, you’d wrapped some around some tall, straight twigs to make a display of them.

“It’s beautiful,” he smiled, turning to meet your gaze. “Truly.”

“Thanks,” you grinned. “Make yourself at home, and here,” you said as you handed him the smoothie cup. “I’ll grab you a straw.”

He paused, his long tongue a heartbeat away from dipping into the drink, and he looked at you, coiling it up again. “Of course, I’m sorry.”

You laughed again, and he looked away, embarrassed.

You shared the drink and sat on the sofa, asking about being a non-human in the city now, and where he lived, and what he did for a living – he was a painter of all things and had a gallery in the downtown area.

You yawned, discovering it was much later than you’d realised, and a second later, you nodded off, tipping sideways and landing against his soft chest. “Oh,” you gasped, jerking awake again. “I’m so sorry.”

“That’s alright,” he smiled. “You can stay there if you want. I’m nocturnal mostly, but you humans aren’t. You should sleep. You’ve had a long day.”

“I…” you started, but he hugged you close with both his right arms, and started to rake his fingers through your hair with his upper left hand.

His coat was so soft, his chest so warm and fluffy, that you snuck your arm around his slim, ochre torso, and held him tight.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this with a complete stranger,” you murmured.

“Well,” he said, leaning down and you felt something soft brush your face.

You cracked your eyes open a little and found his antennae gently searching out the contours of your face. “Well what?” you asked.

“Well, if you let me see you again, and we talk some more, then maybe I won’t be a complete stranger…”

“I’d like that,” you said as you dozed off, slipping under the barrier between waking and dreaming without another thought.

When you woke, the light of morning crept under your curtains and you blinked yourself awake. The throw that you usually kept over the armchair had been draped over you, and Niall was nowhere to be seen.

You sighed, sitting upright. Despite having slept on the sofa, that was probably the best night’s sleep you’d ever had.

You went through the motions of the morning, showering, brushing teeth, breakfasting, etc. and as you opened the door to go to work, you found a small basket of fresh peaches sitting on the threshold, along with a handmade note card.

On it was a hand-painted peach, and on the inside you read, ‘Thank you for our conversation last night. I would very much like to meet you again. If you’d like that as well, will you meet me tonight again at the peach tree? Yours, Niall.’

The end of the working day couldn’t come around quickly enough, and when you clocked off at 16.59, you raced out of the door and pelted to the corner of the park where you found a familiar, tall creature, dressed in elegant white fur, beaming at you.

“You came!” he cried, wings jittering. “I’m so glad.”

___________________________

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[finnlet]

Sans the skeleton went into a coffee shop on September 13th, 2019. He came in for a americano because it was one of the few things that warmed his cold heart. He took it black and added nothing special to it. He loved bitterness.

Then, he saw him. Kokichi Ouma. The Ultimate Supreme Leader. He felt something in his bones, an aching sensation to go meet him. He went to the barista and read his nametag.

"Hey.... Komaeda. give me a freakin' americano! no sugar, no creamer, just make it black and venti. thanks."

"um. ok. i'll get it going for you... sans"

"whatever."

Sans and Komaeda had been a couple back in 2015 but they broke up due to Komaeda cheating on him with another man named Hajime.

========

"S-SANS? IT'S NOT WHAT YOU THINK. H-HE... UM..." komaeda screamed

"OH BUDDY YOu'RE SET TO HAVE A BAD TIME NOW. PREPARE YOURSELF" sans shouted.

sans threw a lamp at hajime, who ran out screaming and crying. komaeda moved out of sans' house and went to move in with hajime. oh well.

========

Sans went over to the little purple haired man who was sitting on his macbook writing an email.

"Hey... you look kinda cute. Wanna get sansy?" sans asked.

"what the fuck lol. are you cursed. im going to send a picture of u to korekiyo lmao. maybe he knows whats happening" ouma said, taking out his phone

"wha.... what the hell are you talking about" sans asked

"korekiyo knows about weird shit so he'd probably know what you are you cursed halloween decoration"

*snap*

ouma mumbled as he typed: "hey... dude .... look at this... weird shit at starbucks"

"Im not a decoration, i'm a skeleton." sans said.

"oh. So do skeletons have dicks."

"I can show you if you come back to my place later." sans said WITH A SMIRK.

"...I think i'll take you up on your offer. i've always been curious about what happens when all the flesh falls off  lol. TIME TO SEE SKELTON DIK." ouma shouted.

the other patrons of starbucks turned and looked at him.

saihara, who was hanging out with kaede, kaito, maki, kiibo, and korekiyo, ran over.

"Ouma shut the fuck up you're so loud and annoying." saihara said

"ok" ouma said

"hey who the hell are you. im trying to hook up with this dude and you're here yelling at him" sans growled. he was rumbling like a machine. his eye went blue.

"well if you really want to know I'm... Shuichi Saihara. They call me the Ultimate Detective, but... lol. you know, you give off the same awful aura that ouma gives me. two peas in a pod i guess" saihara said, eyeing sans.

*snapchat noficiation sound*

"...korekiyo is right there but he sent me a fucking snapchat message back. what a creep." ouma sighed. opening it, he huffed a HUGE GROAN.

"are you even a real fucking anthropologist? why do you know the history of farming but not skeletons." ouma shouted across the restaurant.

"BE QIET SIMPLETON." maki shouted back angrily. she was beyond pissed off.

“Har har har!” ouma laughed heartily.

“SANS? WILL YOU PLEEEEEASE PICK UP YOUR COFFEE. IT’S BEEN DONE FOR LIKE, 10 MINUTES NOW.” komaeda shouted through the microphone.

“Fucking hell ok” sans said, walking off. He picked it up and walked back over towards Ouma.

“That guys my ex. Hes kind of weird isnt he :) i threw a lamp at his boyfriend when they tried to cuck me. LOL” sans chortled. He sounded like a wind chime when he laughed.

“Komaeda is cool, he gives me free milk and cheese samples since I told him i’m an orphan from tokyo. What a fucking idit he is for believing me am i right?! i have my macbook pro and my iphone x AND MY AIRPODS, plus my ipad pro and these cool yeezys.” ouma laughed. he was so fucking sneaky.

“what do you use the ipad for if you already have a macbook” sans asked. he had nothing but an iphone x and some air jordans :/”

“I use that to watch family guy, WHA TTH EFUCK DO YOU THINK? Do you think i don’t like the best program of our time? I love seeing Peter Griffin appear on my screen. he fills me with lust. Dare say you that you…. dislike family guy?” ouma went on monologuing.

“n-no i didnt say i hated family guy i just-”

“ANDDD YOU’RE JUST LIKE KIBOY! HAR HAR HAR! He hates family guy! He can’t stand it. nobody at that noob table likes it. the only people who like family guy at my school are me, ryoma, angie, and himiko. Tenko watches it but only because she has a crush on lois. lol” ouma sighed.

the starbucks went quiet aside from the sipping sounds and weird ass pop music. today’s playlist included: “fake love” (A/N: STREAM FAKE LOVE :]), “two trucks”, and “like a farmer.”

ouma specifically requested this because he knew everyone hated the music, but komaeda felt bad for him and kept the same three songs on.

“Ouma Kokichi. One of your little friends over there just told me that you AREN’T AN ORPHAN?” komaeda said. he was crying.

“w-WHO. WHO SAID THAT LOL. IT’S A… THEY’RE LYING.” ouma shouted. he was so scared. he knew that komaeda had kept note of how much free starbucks shit he’d gotten and it was well over 4,500 dollar.s

“idk. that one.” komaeda pointed at kiibo.

“OHHH KIBOYYYYYYYYYY. He’s a robot, Nagito. You can’t trust Robots!” ouma laughed.

“That is blatant robophobia! I will report you to the proper starbucks authorities if you keep up this act Ouma!” kiibo shouted.

“shut up you ugly bag of bolts” ouma growled aggain.

kaede, korekiyo, and saihara looked alarmed. every day kiibo and ouma fought in the bathroom and caused some type of flooding to happen. once they lined up a bunch of fruits and vegetables and flooded the bathroom and they all ended up in the hallway.

“Kaede. Saihara. It’s been… nice, but I will leave now. I do not like being around Ouma.” korekiyo said.

“w-wait man donT LEAVE YET.” saihara said. he was sweating like a pig. he knew that kiibo liked having saihara on his side and ouma always punched himb (saihara) in the ribs to give him a bruise.

“yeah you shouldn’t leave yet…😀 please” kaede begged.

“You have Maki and Kaito. I’m fairly certain they can fight better than us.” korekiyo said, already halfway to the door.

“He’s right you know.” kaede said. she and saihara said goodbye through their tears and turned to ouma and kiibo again.

“MAN I’M ALL FIRED UP, CAN’T BELIEVE THAT OUMA IS FUCKIN’ AROUND WITH KIIBO AGAIN AND IN PUBLIC THIS TIME” kaito shouted. he was so full of energy because he had accidentally gotten coffee with extra sugar.

“kaito shut up” maki said.

“CAN’T STOP ME NOW…. IM HAVIN’ A GOOD TIME DON’T WANNA STOP AT ALL” kaito said. he did not know the lyrics right.

“c-can you guys please leave” said two men sitting in a booth. it was george michael and andrew ridgeley. they were visiting japan today for their tour and decided to get some unicorn frappuccinos to drink.

sans was staring in anticipation at everyone. ouma and kiibo were glaring at each other and komaeda could only watch in horror.

“Lets take this outside man. maybe it’ll rain and you’ll get rusty and die. LOL.” ouma screamed. he was in hysterics now.

“OH. YOU’VE DONE IT NOW. YES, WE’RE GOING TO FIGHT RIGHT NOW. OUTSIDE. SAIHARA, KAEDE, KAITO, MAKI, K…. where did korekiyo go” kiibo said

“He left bc you guys are fucked up” maki said. she wanted to leave when she saw ouma but didn’t have the heart to say it to everyone. ouma always ruined the plans.

“wha…. NO?” kiibo said. he cried one tear.

“>implying you can use everyone. YOU ONLY GET TWO OF THOSE PEOPLE ON YOUR TEAM DUMBASS.” ouma shouted

“t-team?!” saihara gasped. he was 💩ing bricks.

“for the BEST TEAM, i, kokichi Ouma, pick: kaito and maki. kiboy gets saihara and kaede! lmao have fun with weaklings.” ouma said.

“can you all leave already, you’RE SCARING THE CUSTOMERS AWAY AND ITS RUINING BUSINESS.” the manager (teruteru) said angrily.

“oh fuck off you ant.” ouma said, dragging everyone out into the back lot. komaeda and sans were dumbfounded. there was virtually no rehearsal for that.

CHAPTER TWO START:::

“Ouma you have insulted me for the last time. today is a new start. kaede, saihara, and i will now proceed to defeat you.” kiibo shouted. he was fucking confident in his abilities today.

“kiboy you will lose in one minute. im sorry to say it. wait, NO IM NOT. fucking hellion. seth mcfarlane personally blessed me with family guy so i am invincible.” ouma said.

“ouma do i have to help you. i dont want to fight my sidekick OR KAEDE. o-or KIIBO :)” kaito asked.

“yes shrimp. you must fight for me because i recruited you and that’s how this bullshit works. don’t worry though! it’ll only take one pow and kiboy will be knocked out because he’s rusty and old. NEEHEEHEE.” ouma was fucking laughing his ass off.

maki and kaito looked at each other and gave the most sorry looks to kaede and saihara. they honestly didn’t Want to help ouma because they thought he was a fucking asshole but ouma could blackmail them and potentially kill them. no risks. kaede and saihara knew this but were still hurt.

“Ouma I have a doctor’s appointment in like, 15 minutes. can i leave yet” kaede said.

“wha…? w-well… you’re goign to hav eto recruit someone else to fight in your place since saihara wouldn’t win against me in a million years lol.” ouma said. he was so fucking annoyed. he just wanted to punch kiibo already.

[17mounteens]

Mobile Masterlist (fluff/angst/reactions/other)

Here you can find our masterlist for everything else than smut! 

» Masterlists for what we’ve written to celebrate hitting milestones can be found at the bottom! (Eg member + word drabbles, wild card scenarios)

S.Coups

Fireworks Long distance + Jealous + “I’m not letting you go until you stop crying.” (angst/fluff) Morning + cuddles + “Sometimes I wonder how I ended up with someone as wonderful as you.” (fluff) Cuddles + “C'mon, 5 more minutes!” (fluff) Always (fluff, childhood friends!AU)  In your dreams (fluff-ish, AU)  7 Minutes in heaven (fluff)  Best friend Seungcheol slowly falling in love with you (fluff; bullet points)  Fall fun (fluff)  Fluffy aftercare (fluff)  Late night cuddling (short ; bullet points)  Soulmate AU (fluff)  50’s diner AU - he’s in a biker gang and you’re very girly (fluff)  Jicheol fluff (fluff, no reader)  Poly relationship with Jicheol (fluff)  He’s really cheesy and cute to you at a fansign (fluff)  You’re in a LDR and Skype rarely, but you both struggle to stay awake (fluff) 

Jeonghan

Fireworks Bath + “You smell really nice…” (fluff) Period + shopping + singing (fluff) Cuddles + “Say what you want, I still love you.” + “Stop! You know I’m ticklish!” (fluff)  7 Minutes in heaven (fluff)  Love is blind(ing) (angst, soulmate AU)  Barista AU (fluff) Fall fun (fluff)  Late night cuddling (short ; bullet points)  Bubble bath (fluff) 

Joshua

Fireworks  Coffee + First date (fluff)  Cuddles + kisses + “I really have to go, darling…” (fluff)  You’ve had a bad day and hide in bed when you get home (fluff / hurt/comfort?)  You’re on a drama set and he purposely messes up your kiss scenes and ends up proposing (fluff)  Fall fun (fluff)  Late night cuddling (short ; bullet points)  7 minutes in heaven (fluff)  Hybrid AU (fluff)

Jun

Fireworks Sunset + holding hands (fluff) Jealous + kisses + dancing (sorta fluff w/ making out and all that)  You like him but he’s dating your best friend (angst) (part 2 ; fluffier than part 1!!) He grabs your ass and lifts you into a hug in front of the other members (99,9% fluff)      “Boyfriend does my make up” youtuber AU (fluff)  Fall fun (fluff)  Late night cuddling (short ; bullet points) Medieval AU (fluff-ish)  The other members come home to find you cuddled up asleep (fluff) Makeout session when you find him shirtless (steamy fluff)

Hoshi

Fireworks Dancing + “Hey! What are you doing on my phone?!” + “You’re so cheesy!” (fluff) Kisses + “I’m tired but I’m not going to bed until you come with me.” (fluff) Night + stress + “I’m tired but I’m not going to bed until you come with me.“ (fluff) Coffee + picnic + “Stay here with me?” (fluff) Sunset + rapping + “You smell really nice…” (fluff)  Dance session turns into a make-out session (suggestive fluff)  Transition from Kwon Soonyoung to Hoshi results in intense kisses (fluff with lowkey smutty hints)  Fall fun (fluff)  Late night cuddling (short ; bullet points)  You drive around all day as friends but he has a crush on you (fluff)  How would it be to date him when you’re both Shawols (fluff) First holiday alone with him (fluff)  You get into a serious argument and one day you pass out (angst ; fluffy ending) 

Wonwoo

Fireworks Rain + “Please don’t leave.” (angst) Period + “Who cares what other people think? You’re really beautiful.” + “Say what you want, I still love you.” (angst)  Confession + jealous + “Who cares what they think? You’re really beautiful.” (fluff)  College/barista!AU (fluff)  Fall fun (fluff)  Late night cuddling (short ; bullet points)  You accidentally adopt 5 kittens (fluff; bullet points)  You go on a holiday with all the members as friends, but fall in love with Wonwoo (fluff)  Wonwoo as a boyfriend (fluff) Hogwarts AU where you’re a power couple (fluff)  You confess but he rejects because he has his sights on someone else (angst to fluff, longer)

Woozi

Fireworks Confession + all nighter (fluff) Shower (fluff) Period + stress + “(S)he’s going to kill me!” (fluff) 7 minutes in heaven (fluff)  You’re his best friend and he confesses (fluff)  Fall fun (fluff)  Fluff scenario with a noona; college-ish (fluff)  Late night cuddling (short ; bullet points)  Your child asks him for a younger sibling & he brings it up with you (fluff)  Jicheol fluff (fluff, no reader)  Dorm-wide nerf gun war where you’re best friends with Woozi but betray him (fluff)  Poly relationship with Jicheol (fluff)  Soulmate AU (fluff)

DK

Fireworks  Picnic date (fluff)  You're dating and you meet Seventeen for the first time (fluff)  Fall fun (fluff)  Stop it (fluff-ish)  College AU-ish (fluff)  Splashing in puddles (fluff; bullet points)  Late night cuddling (short ; bullet points)  You’re an up and coming actress & it’s his first time acting; netizens think you look good together & turns out you like each other (fluff)  First kiss (fluff)

Mingyu

Fireworks Long distance + “I really have to go, darling…” (fluff)  Coffee + stress + “Stay here with me?” (fluff)  Everyone’s been trying to set you up for months but you’re already together (fluff)  Fall fun (fluff)  Late night cuddling (short ; bullet points)  He’s busy & stressed so you don’t see too much, accidentally tells you he doesn’t love you (angst, happy ending)  You’re a trainee at Pledis and he sees you practicing and starts liking you (fluff; also with Dino and The 8)  Cooking (fluff) He copes with a one-sided break-up (angst) 

The 8

Fireworks I only see you (fluff, high school AU) Cuddles/Kisses + “Stay here with me?” (fluff) “Say what you want, I still love you.” (angst / hurt/comfort) You’re friends with Seventeen and he develops feelings for you (fluff)  Intense make out session after his dance practice but the boys walk in (fluff) He tries to help you relax because you’re on an exam week (fluff)  Bathing together with kisses and cuddling (fluff)  Fall fun (fluff)  Number one (fluff)  Late night cuddling (short ; bullet points)  You’re a trainee at Pledis and he sees you practicing and starts liking you (fluff; also with Dino and Mingyu)  He takes care of you when you have a fever (fluff)

Seungkwan

Fireworks Crushing on you A road trip to Jeju with your 2 small children Snow + first kiss + “I really do love you. You know that, right?” (fluff) Snow + period + rapping (fluff) Ringing Memories (AU-ish, fluff?)  He sees you wearing his mother’s wedding dress (fluff)    Fall fun (fluff)  Call (fluff)  Morning fluff (fluff)  Singing a lullaby to your baby (fluff)  You cheat on him (angst)  Late night cuddling (short ; bullet points)  You sing at home without realizing the window's open, and he starts belting out with you (fluff ; bullet points)  Mini imagine: Making out (fluff, suggestive) College AU: you’re best friends, he’s stressed and you take him out for a drive (fluff)

Vernon

Fireworks Jealous + “No, she isn’t prettier than you!” + “Hey! What are you doing on my phone?!” (fluff) Song + kisses + “You’re so cheesy!” (fluff) Shower + “No, I’m not going to shower with you!” (fluff) Jealous + spring + “You’re so cheesy!” (fluff) Cuddles + kisses + “I really do love you. You know that, right?” (fluff) Make-out session (fluff) Jealous Hansol (fluff) Birthday scenario where he’s tired and you snuggle and watch a movie (fluff)  You’re Vernon’s girlfriend but he keeps seeing Mingyu and Wonwoo flirt with you (fluff) Cuddles, tickles and kisses (fluff)  Fall fun (fluff)  Late night cuddling (short ; bullet points)  Pool date (fluff)  Halloween (fluff) Vernon Supernatural AU with a soulmate twist (angst, some fluff)  You’ve nicknamed Vernon as “Sol” and sunshine etc bc he’s your sunshine and he thinks its bc of his name (fluff)

Dino

Fireworks You bringing him food to the studio (fluff) A fluffy noona scenario (fluff) Fall fun (fluff)  You’re cuddling when Jeonghan walks in and proceeds to tell the other members (fluff)  Late night date where you doze off because you're so exhausted (fluff)  He accidentally gives you a hickey, and the rest of the boys have a “serious talk” with you (fluff)  You're a year above him and use aegyo to motivate him to study (fluff)  First date (fluff)  Late night cuddling (short ; bullet points)  First kiss (fluff) You’re a trainee at Pledis and he sees you practicing and starts liking you (fluff; also with Mingyu and The 8)  You’re having a movie night and the other members come home to find you cuddled up asleep (fluff)  Zoo date (fluff)  From best friends to lovers (fluff ; bullet points)

Reactions

You break your racket while playing tennis (hip hop unit + Jun) You ask them to brush your (very) tangled hair (vocal unit) You try to kiss them with pickle breath (vocal unit) You nearly pass out from not enough food/sleep (Mingyu, Jun, Hoshi, DK and Wonwoo) Touching your incredibly soft hands (hip hop unit) Finding your sketchbook that’s full of sketches of them (performance unit) You see a cockroach on your way out of the shower and your towel slips off as you run away (Hoshi, Woozi, Joshua, Seungkwan, Mingyu) You nearly pass out from not enough food/sleep (Vernon) Their younger sibling is someone’s crush (vocal unit) You bending down in front of them in a more public place, which gives them a nice view (Mingyu, Jun, The 8, Wonwoo, S.Coups; with gifs)  They’re put in charge of a 13/14 yo trainee - how they’d treat her, act etc (Hoshi, Jun, Woozi, The 8) (reaction / bullet point scenario)  You’re very flexible (performance unit)  You’re not able to walk after a rather rough night (S.Coups, The 8, Jun, Wonwoo)  They see you in lingerie for the first time (S.Coups, The 8, Wonwoo, Mingyu, Jun)  You’re writing a song about them but they don’t realize until they see you blushing (vocal unit)  They hear you hit Jimin’s high note at the end of Let me know (vocal unit)

Others

1000 followers special: wild card scenarios  2000 followers special: Fall fun  Performance unit comforting you when you’re on your period Christmas imagines 2016  4000 followers special: member + word drabbles Seventeen and the types of ASMR they prefer 6000 followers special: fluffy bullet points

[zainab1x1s]

2 3 5 7 11 12 16 19 20 32 37 41 50 57 64 66 75 77 79 83 86 92 93 94 and then 1?? 100?? whatever the one that actually says i love you for the ship meme u asked for this im a good person

“It reminded me of you.”

Aaron held the faux leather bound journal in his hands close to his chest almost as soon as he got it, catching a peek at the gold lettering on the cover but not long enough to see what it said. “You absolute angelic, unbelievable, undeserving…” Aaron found himself smiling wider than he realized, rambling off a list of adjectives with no intention of which one he was searching for, only knowing they weren’t enough. Eventually he came to a halt and took a deep breath, only saying, “Thank you. I love it. You’re amazing” this time, kissing the top of her head before he could stop himself.

“No, no, it’s my treat.”

“No, you really don’t have to do that,” Mariella tried to say, but the words were already swallowing in her throat by the time Brooke had began paying for the coffee, and she found herself sitting back down in the uncomfortable wooden seats of the coffee shop, listening to the continuous wails of someone who just had to be the roommate of the cute girl she was trying hard not to like. Looking at Brooke, though, who was talking to the barista with a brilliant smile on her face, Mariella knew there was no use in trying. She was absolutely hopeless.

“I’ll walk you home.”

“You will?” The gesture wasn’t overly romantic - the pair had stayed late to finish a biology project, and though it was barely six, the sky was already ink black, and Noelle didn’t live too far away. Still, it was one of the first, concrete signs that showed Adam cared about her - or maybe he was just a generally good person who didn’t want a teenage girl to walk alone in the dark, but Noelle would take it. “Thank you, yes! That would be great! You’re so sweet.”

“I dreamt about you last night.”

“Oh!” Aiden jumped up at the realization of what this was, already laughing a little (though trying desperately to hold it back as best as he could). “Okay, so we’re finally doing the lame pickup line you promised. You’re only, uh, a couple months late, but, yeah, sure, I guess I could take it, you know. What was I doing in your dream?”

“You can have half.”

“What? No.” Maya looked up from her schoolbooks to an odd show of kindness, a cross between irritation and confusion sitting on her face. She began listing off reasons for the stupidity of his offer on her fingers. “You just bought it, I’m working, I can make myself my own bagel if I want one, it’s weird to split a bagel, and I’m vegetarian. Can’t eat bacon.” She turned back to her textbook, still watching his figure out of the corner of her eye before flipping them closed slowly and straightening her back. “But I think it’s my lunch break,” she said, piecing together each word as she spoke it. “So I might as well make myself a sandwich, and we could eat it together if you want. That way, no one has to have half of anything,” she tacked the last part on as a deflection from the fact that her face was growing impossibly hot.

“Take my jacket, it’s cold outside.”

Even as she attempted to avert Jodi’s gaze with her waving hand, Ava couldn’t stop smiling at the kindness of her subject. “Jo, you’re not supposed to address the camera, remember?” she said finally, when it didn’t seem that Jodi was quite understanding it. “But thank you, you’re a doll. I’ll be fine, though. Alejandro Innaratu once described the mountain weather for The Revenant like rock climbing without a rope, so I don’t think this is all that bad.”

“It’s okay.  I couldn’t sleep anyway.”

“Thank God” Sam muttered the exclamation under his breath, but there was no need, as he was sure Lillian was thinking the same thing when she saw he was still awake. Quickly, he pulled back the covers on the too-large hotel bed, moving over to one said. “You know,” he said, sitting his pillow up and leaning against the headboard as she crawled in, “it’s pretty stupid that management keeps making us sleep in different rooms. Like, wouldn’t we be saving money if we slept in the same room, you know? What’s the point, anyway?”

“Can I hold your hand?”

Wordlessly, Oli slipped his hand into that of Mary’s, smiling down at her as reassuringly as he possibly could. “It’s gonna be okay,” he whispered, taking the opportunity of being so close to her to kiss her face quickly. Sitting back up, he turned to Haley and said, “So, we’ve all seen The Ring before, and it actually kind of freaks me out a little. When I was a kid, actually, um, my dad took me on a camping trip - well, it wasn’t really camping. We were going to go camping, but-” Haley threw the remote at Oli’s head before he could finish his sentence, and handed it to his girlfriend with pride.

“You can borrow mine.”

“Thank you. Thank you so much.” Minji practically heaved her words as she pulled Adam’s Biology notes towards her, scattering them around the small table they shared at Hillary’s house so he could see as well. “If I had to talk to Basketball Boy, I might have actually had to kill him.” She grit her teeth at the very thought, lowering her voice. “He’s actually trying to be friends with me. Actively. Aggressively. I’m going to kill someone, Adam. It’s probably going to be him.”

“It looks good on you.”

Trapp emerged from the store’s dressing room in the dress Mara had picked out for prom or Spring Fling or something and was greeted to a series of compliments and coo-ing from her girlfriend over how good she looked. “I’m pretty sure I look like ass,” she said blandly, gesturing to herself. Still, as she looked at how happy Mara was, Trapp only rolled her eyes and said, “yeah, alright, I’ll buy it, whatever.”

“Can I kiss you?”

Onyx was taken aback at the question, already feeling a deep red flush rising to her cheeks. It wasn’t that the question was unusual - though she didn’t have much experience with people asking to kiss her (or people kissing her in general, really. Rather, it snapped her out of a pleasant reverie and reminded her that she wasn’t supposed to like him. Didn’t like him. Onyx looked at Tony and contemplated leaving without another word, before grabbing the front of his shirt and pulling him into a long kiss. By the time they pulled away, there was lipstick on the edges of his lips and a stunned look in his eyes. She pressed a small kiss against the corner of his mouth before picking up her purse and leaving the room, her head spinning.

“Go back to sleep.”

“I fucking wish, right?” Maddie’s overly cheery voice chirped over the phone, showing no sign of her statement being true. “Anyway, I can’t sleep. I’ve tried everything, Shawn, I swear to god I actually have, and it’s done shit. Come on! Stay up and talk to me? Please?” Maddie continued before he even had a chance to answer. “It’d be like a sleepover over the phone, and your voice is really cute, and it could help me go to sleep? Come on, please, Shawn?”

“I think you’re beautiful.”

Almost as soon as Winter returned from the bathroom in her full Juliet costume, she began muttering frantically to herself about how awful she must have looked. When Robbie spoke, she dropped the hairbrush in her hand, causing one of the makeup people to curse under their breath as they picked it up on their way to the other side of the room. “Oh, thank you,” she said, unsure if her excited yet nervous feeling was because of her compliment or because their first show was less than hours away. “But no one can top the beauty that rests in your eyes - if you think I am beautiful, you’ve never been so lucky to look in a mirror.” Even her method acting was on autopilot, however, all the while wondering if his compliment was real or not. At least she knew hers was.

“There is enough room for both of us.”

“There’s barely enough room for me, you guys” Beth said half-heartily as her sisters crawled into the bed around her. It was her last day they were all going to live together, and she was certain that they could hear her soft cries from a million miles away - not because they were especially loud or good at hearing, but because all three of them had a sense for whenever any of them were upset. “Okay, fine,” she said, as they ignored her barely passable attempts at getting them out, “but don’t steal all the blankets”

“It’s two sugars, right?”

Sunnie looked up from her laptop, smiling at the boy before. “Uh, yeah,” she said, tilting her head to the said before adding, “do you know my coffee order, Mateo?” She couldn’t help but grin at herself, feeling proud for no reason. Pulling the blankets away and pushing her laptop with whatever Netflix show they were binge-watching on it away, Sunnie started to get up. “Don’t worry, though. Let me come with you. I don’t mind.”

“Stay over.”

Joy only smiled a half-smile at the request, patting Henry’s cheek gently. “Oh, sweet baby,” she said in a teasingly condescending tone. “You can’t be serious, can you? You know I can’t stay over. Actually, I should probably be getting home right now.” She began gathering up her stuff at that, but paused to look up at Henry, licking her lips before a nervous smile found its way to her lips. “I had a really good time, though. I like your place. A lot more quiet than mine.” She headed to the door before spinning on her heel. “Walk me to mine? I kind of want to keep talking to you, weirdly enough. Don’t ask.”

“I was just thinking about you.”

Casey walked into the art room with the oddest greeting yet, and she wasn’t sure if she quite appreciated the way her heart swelled up before she even had the opportunity to register the words being said. She began setting up her easel and art supplies, pretending at first as if she didn’t hear what he had said at all, that her eyes didn’t keep trailing back to where he sat, building sculptures and tapping out rhythms with his finger tips. Eventually - far too long for it to be considered normal, she said, “only good things, I hope” in what she wished was her regular, cheery voice and not an obvious sign that she cared too much for her liking what he thought of her.

“Call me if you need anything.”

Nina chuckled to herself at the concern of her soon-to-be-former hallmate as she neatly tucked rolls of clothing inside her suitcase. “Aw, Val, you almost sound concerned,” she teased, perfectly folding the shirt in her hand without looking. “Don’t worry. Me and Mar are going to be fine, okay? I used to travel all the time with my dad, and then I did a year abroad when I still did university full-time. I’ll take good care of Marisol, and I’ll send you a bunch of pictures of me in front of famous landmarks all the time to make you jealous.” With a smile, Nina pointed a pair of tube socks at Val to punctuate her point. “Promise.”

“I’ll still be here when you’re ready.”

Emmaline finished off the last of her cigarette before flicking it into the ground, grinding it underneath the heel of her foot. This process took much longer than it should have, but it was most likely because she was avoiding the seemingly all-knowing gaze of Ketan Macpherson. Indeed, when she raised her head to look at him, it was done with a great slowness. “You probably shouldn’t be,” she said honestly, her low voice even lower than usual. “I’ve got no idea when I’ll get my shit together.” Still, she made no effort to leave, even with her excuse to stay pressed into the heel of her shoe, and instead only moved closer to him.

“Stay there.  I’m coming to get you.”

It was two, maybe three in the morning, and Josh was walking down the sidewalk drunk out of his mind. Which, you know, bad idea and all that, but it may help if he explained that it wasn’t something that happened as often as you would think, and it was because of a long-winded game of truth or dare that got out of hand? No? Yeah, he figured. Harry also thought it was a pretty stupid excuse, and he told him so when Josh called him, laughing his ass off. “No, ‘m fine, swear,” he said, still choking on laughter between words. “I got this.” He didn’t manage to get another word in before there was the sound of keys in an engine and a distinct click, and- yeah, yeah, that was a smart move. Because he didn’t have this. Not at all. And he honestly don’t know what he would’ve done without Harry - not just in that instance, but in general.

“You’re important too.”

Phoenix licked his lips to hide the smile that came crawling forward. “I mean, yeah, I know, but- it’s Orion, right? He’s my number one, which means I gotta be his number two and have his back. And if the stars don’t like me because of that, then they got to find a new set of muscles,” he added, only half-joking. “Besides-” his voice lowered for this, significantly softer, “The ones that matter are still around.”

“I want you to be happy.”

“I do, too,” Roxy said, sitting up in her bed and leaning over to kiss Link as delicately as possible. As she pulled away, though, her once soothing voice got impossibly loud. “I just wish-” she yelled pointedly, overly-emphasizing every word as she banged the wall adjacent to Tessa’s room, “my roommate also wanted me to be happy, and stopped forcing me back in the closet because of some dumb, convoluted scheme.”

“I believe in you.”

Walt shoved the top half of his super suit over his head, peeking his head out just enough to smile down at his girlfriend. “You probably shouldn’t do that,” he said with a nervous laugh in his voice, trying to hide his sheer panic with as much humour as possible. He gave a pointed look in the direction of Simon, who had just set his cape on fire and was trying to summon water powers in a fast attempt to put it out. Turning back to Priya, he said, “neither of us really, uh, how do you say- know what we’re doing?” He laughed again, pressing his forehead against hers when he leaned forward, already feeling the pit in his stomach. “Um,” he said, before clearing his throat, “wish us luck and all that. Off to save the world, you know.”

“You can do it.”

Emmaline found her hands shaking as she reached down to smooth out her dress for what must have been the hundredth time. She was going on a date with Ketan, and for some reason that was more frightening than debate competitions, than band performances, than business events with her dad, and it really shouldn’t have been. But it was. Tony was the only thing keeping her from practically losing it. “Thanks,” she muttered, offering him a half-smile as an apology for her nerves. “I mean, I don’t think I’ll be great or anything - um, definitely not good enough to win any awards. But I hope it goes okay.”

“I love you.”

Troy froze. For the first time in his life, he felt hyper-aware of all the onlookers upon him - and though they weren’t there in the physical sense, the red blinking light on the camera refused to let its presence be forgotten. He should have said something. He shouldn’t have hesitated. He knew that. He knew that. He was messing up the take, and then they’d have to take another one, which means they’d have to stay longer, which means they’d have to find more excuses to not talk to each other between filming, and it was all going to be bad. He knew that. But everything was so weird, he couldn’t just say it. Instead, he pulled back, shaking his head in a desperate attempt to clear his mind. “Sorry, thought I saw something behind you,” he said. “Can we try that again?”

[yourkeeperoftherunners]

7 First Kisses (EXO version)

I watched the webdrama 7 First Kisses and wondered what it would have been like if the other bachelors vying for the main girl’s attention were the rest of the EXO members for laughs. (This is the blogger’s opinion – nothing official. I left off Kai because he was part of the original series.)

Xiumin: The owner of a local cafe near the Lotte Duty Free mall who prides himself on making some of the best coffee drinks in Korea. Shortly after Soo-jin meets the goddess of fate, he shows up to the help desk with her favorite drink free of charge. He’d shyly tell her he personally made it just the way she liked it and that he hoped she liked the foam art he did, lingering as he watches her take the first sip. Once she tells him its perfect, he asks if she’s busy later, saying he’d love to give her a personal lesson on barista-ing, one-on-one.

Lay: Owner of a well-known floral arrangement company who supplies the Lotte Duty Free mall desks, lobbies, and offices with beautiful floral bouquets and arrangements. He approaches the desk with an elaborate design for the help desk Soo-jin works at, commenting that he made this one with her in mind, as it contains her favorite flowers. Eyes linger for a moment before he’s pulled away to discuss a special order for Soo-jin’s boss and he excuses himself, saying he’ll see her later. After her shift, Soo-jin opens her locker to discover a fresh bouquet of flowers on the top shelf with a note, asking if she’d like to come to dinner that night.

Sehun: A small white dog runs toward the help desk, prompting Soo-jin to stop and scoop up the dog, searching for a collar and tag. As she notes the dog’s name is Vivi, his owner runs up, out of breath. Soo-jin’s co-workers realize that he is actually the famous owner of the prize-winning show dog Vivi. Sehun takes Vivi back, thanking Soo-jin for finding his dog before asking if she’d like to spend time with them at the dog park after work.

Baekhyun: Soo-jin is tasked by her boss to deliver luxury accessories to a nearby photoshoot for a brand’s new campaign advertisement. Upon arriving at the studio, she is surprised to discover that the model is Baekhyun, who has been chosen as the new face for the accessory brand MCM, due to his fun, youthful energy. He breaks away from the test camera shooting to greet her, flirting as he asks for her opinion on what he should pick accessory-wise for the photoshoot. At one point he persuades the photographer and crew to let her join him for some of the final shots and she is ushered into hair and makeup to fit the style of the shoot. Once the shoot commences, Baekhyun chooses to help Soo-jin return the accessories to the mall, taking the time to talk about each other.

Chen: Approaches the desk, serenading Soo-jin with a sweet ballad that highlights his vocal range. Soo-jin recognizes him as part of EXO while her co-workers correct her, saying that he’s a famous stage actor who has been cast in several Korean adaptations of musicals. He mentions that he’s acting in a production of WICKED as Fiyero and asks if he’ll see her there, slipping her a ticket for tonight’s performance.

Suho: A young wealthy businessman approaches the help desk, asking for Soo-jin to help assist with finding the perfect gift for a special girl in his life. At first he dismisses many of the suggestions, politely but firmly, stating that they aren’t special enough for his girl. “She has to have the best!” he proclaims in exasperation after rejecting a pricey handbag Soo-jin recommends. Disheartened by her attempts to help, Soo-jin quietly excuses herself, embarrassed that she was unable to assist Suho with his search. The latter approaches her with a pricey ring, murmuring that he didn’t mean to frustrate or upset her – he only wanted to make this absolutely perfect just for her.

D.O.: The head chef of the newest bistro in town, using recipes from his family, some with a twist. The boss orders food from the bistro for the entire staff and D.O. chooses to deliver it personally to each employee. He presents Soo-jin with her favorite dish, packaged beautifully in a to-go container. Eagerly, he waits for her to try the dish, watching carefully to gauge her reaction. After she mentions it tastes good, he relaxes, saying he is relieved. Eventually he invites her to stop by later, saying he’d like to try a few new dishes on her for the menu.

Chanyeol: “Heads up!” a deep male voice yells. Soo-jin steps back into the desk area as a skateboard zips across the floor, hitting the bottom of the help desk. Her co-workers glare and look around for the guilty party who lost it, their expressions softening when they see it’s the reality TV star and stunt daredevil Chanyeol. The latter retrieves his skateboard and shoots Soo-jin a sly grin as he offers an apology for skateboarding inside. Soo-jin warns him to be careful inside and he replies with a wink, asking if she’s too busy to take a ride on his motorcycle after work.

[thewebofslime]

Celebrity lawyer Michael Avenatti is arrested on charges of trying to extort up to $25 million from Nike by threatening to reveal negative publicity. Avenatti also is charged in a separate federal case of embezzling a client's money "in order to pay his own expense and debts," and of "defrauding a bank in Mississippi." Avenatti had represented porn star Stormy Daniels in her lawsuit against President Trump and his former lawyer Michael Cohen related to a nondisclosure agreement she had signed on the eve of the 2016 presidential election to keep quiet about her alleged affair with Trump. Dan Mangan | Kevin Breuninger Published 1 Hour Ago Updated 1 Min Ago CNBC.com Michael Avenatti arrested for alleged $20 million extortion attempt against Nike 1 Hour Ago | 01:41 Celebrity lawyer Michael Avenatti was arrested Monday in New York City on charges of trying to extort up to $25 million from Nike by threatening to reveal claims that company employees had authorized payments to the families of top high school basketball players. Avenatti also was separately charged in a second federal case in Los Angeles with embezzling a client's money "in order to pay his own expenses and debts" and those of his law firm and coffee company, and of "defrauding a bank in Mississippi," prosecutors said. The famously aggressive litigator had represented porn star Stormy Daniels in lawsuits against President Donald Trump and his former lawyer Michael Cohen related to a nondisclosure agreement she signed on the eve of the 2016 presidential election to keep quiet about her alleged affair with Trump in exchange for a $130,000 payment. Last year, Avenatti announced that he was considering running for president. Daniels replaced Avenatti as her lawyer earlier this month after a fallout with him. Daniels, in a statement released by her new lawyer Clark Brewster, told CNBC that, "Knowing what I know now about Michael, I'm saddened but not shocked regarding his arrest." "I made the decision weeks ago to terminate Michael's services after discovering that he had dealt with me extremely dishonestly, and I will have my own announcement coming soon," Daniels said. Avenatti, 48, was arrested in Midtown Manhattan at the law offices of Boies Schiller Flexner at 12:30 p.m. ET by FBI agents, about 15 minutes after he tweeted that he would be disclosing a big high school and college basketball scandal "perpetrated by" Nike that he supposedly had uncovered. Nike stock initially nose dived on the news, but later recovered much of the losses. According to a criminal complaint, Avenatti had offered to not hold that press conference "only if Nike made a payment of $1.5 million to a client of Avenatti's in possession of information damaging to Nike ... and agreed to 'retain' Avenatti and [another person] to conduct an 'internal investigation' — an investigation that Nike did not request — for which Avenatti and [the other person] demanded to be paid, at a minimum, between $15 [million] and $25 million." The complaint says that on Wednesday, Avenatti and a cooperating witness spoke by phone with lawyers for Nike "during which Avenatti stated, with respect to his demands for payment of millions of dollars, that if those demands were not met 'I'll go take ten billion dollars off your client's market cap ... I'm not f---ing around.'" U.S. Attorney Geoffrey Berman, speaking at a press conference in Manhattan, said, "By engaging in the conduct alleged in the complaint, Avenatti was not acting as an attorney. " "A suit and tie does not mask the fact that at its core, this was an old-fashioned shake down," Berman said. Avenatti is due in Manhattan federal court on Monday on charges of conspiracy, extortion and transmitting interstate communications with intent to extort. That is the same court where Trump's ex-lawyer Cohen pleaded guilty last year to crimes that included campaign finance law violations related to the hush-money payments to Daniels. Avenatti is charged in the Los Angeles case with two criminal counts, wire fraud and bank fraud. Andrew Cullen | Reuters Michael Avenatti Nike had no immediate comment. The White House did not immediately comment. In the Los Angeles federal case, Avenatti is accused in a 197-page complaint of negotiating a $1.6 million settlement for a client in a civil case, but then giving the client "a bogus settlement agreement with a false payment date of March 10, 2018." The U.S. Attorney's Office in Los Angeles said "Avenatti misappropriated his client's settlement money and used it to pay expenses for his coffee business, Global Baristas US LLC, which operated Tully's Coffee stores in California and Washington state, as well as for his own expenses." "When the fake March 2018 deadline passed and the client asked where the money was, Avenatti continued to conceal that the payment had already been received," according to prosecutors. "Mr. Avenatti is facing serious criminal charges alleging he misappropriated client trust funds for his personal use and he defrauded a bank by submitting phony tax returns in order to obtain millions of dollars in loans," U.S. Attorney Nick Hanna said. Hanna's office said Avenatti also allegedly defrauded a bank in Mississippi by submitting to that bank fake tax returns to get three loans totaling $4.1 million for his law firm and coffee business in 2014. The tax returns indicated that he had "substantial income even though he had never filed any such returns with the Internal Revenue Service," the prosecutor's office said. "The phony returns stated that he earned $4,562,881 in adjusted gross income in 2011, $5,423,099 in 2012, and $4,082,803 in 2013. ... Avenatti allegedly also claimed he paid $1.6 million in estimated tax payments to the IRS in 2012 and paid $1.25 million in 2013." "In reality, Avenatti never filed personal income tax returns for 2011, 2012 and 2013 and did not make any estimated tax payments in 2012 and 2013," Hanna's office said. "Instead of the millions of dollars he claimed to have paid in taxes, Avenatti still owed the IRS $850,438 in unpaid personal income tax plus interest and penalties for the tax years 2009 and 2010. Avenatti also submitted a fictitious partnership tax return for his law firm," the investigators said Read the New York federal criminal complaint against Michael Avenatti: