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Ramen & Rain
Katsuki Bakugo x gn Reader
Ramen Date
just a weird fluff Bakugo fic mostly written at 3am. not quite the direction it was intended to go but it still ends ish as planned. mentions of angst, turns into fluff.
âSorry for your breakup,â you say to the messy haired blonde seated next to you at the hero rankings after-party, âare you doing okay?â
âHuh?â he grumbled before remembering the bullshit his PR team spun earlier that week.Â
âOh, that.â He sits uncomfortably, staring down the tablecloth at the tiny high top the two of you were perched at. âUm, that was fake.â
âWait, really?â
âYeah, my PR team thinks itâll humanize me to date likable people so they have me take models and whatever on dates.â He pauses, considering if heâd like to tell you the next part, âand a few times they also did this when I was photographed with one night stands. I guess thatâs not so likable either or something,â he mumbles down at his lap. Â
Your thoughts flash back to every headline youâd read about pro-hero Dynamiteâs intriguing love life. Much to his teamâs credit, you did fall for it.
âSo, you havenât actually dated any of those girls in the pictures?âÂ
âNope,â his finishes his drink, hoping the glass blocked at least some of his blushing face.
âHave you dated anyone?â
âHave you?â he retorts, barely able to make eye contact.
Please say no, he hopes.Â
He tried to ask you out once, in your second year of high school together. But he was going through some things. And you are you. He couldnât imagine you being interested in anything but perfect when itâs what you deserve. One day, he figured, he could give you that. So he waited.
And of course you had no idea he liked you. Not when his way of showing it was hitting you harder while sparing, having higher expectations of you than everyone else, and exploding at you every time you so much as glanced at him (because he thought you caught him staring.)
âWell, there was Shouto in high school,â you begin.
Of course Bakugo knows about this, he hated it.Â
You and Shouto had been best friends since halfway through your first year. So, it didn't surprise too many people in your third year when he asked you to go out with him. Of course you had a massive crush on him for years at that point. He's beautiful, who in your class hadn't been into him?
And it was⊠Cute.Â
While it lasted.Â
You held hands. He walked you to class. The two of you always had meals together, but it felt different once you were officially together. You never kissed or anything but that's okay, it was new.Â
Exactly nine days and four hours is when it all came crashing down.Â
Feeling worked after training, you went to bed early. You'd meet up with your boyfriend in the morning. No big deal.Â
Little did you know, your puppy love relationship was falling apart before your head even hit the pillow.Â
âHey, Icy Hot! What are you doing checking out Ponytail when you're already dating the hottest person in our class?â Bakugo berated Todoroki.Â
Confused, he responded as bluntly as he ever did, âbut y/n isn't the hottest one in our class. Momo is.â
Katsukiâs red eyes pierced through him, clearly he was missing something.Â
âWait, are you not dating y/n??â
âNo, I am.â
â...then what the fuck.â
After much back and forth, it came out that Iida told Todoroki everyone should aspire to date their best friend. He took that to heart and asked you out without considering if he like liked you.Â
He didn't.Â
And he told you that the next morning.
Itâs not Shoutoâs fault his comprehension of human emotion is so limited. This didnât make being broken up with by him any easier though. Everything was matter of fact, no sugar coating.Â
âThanks for letting me know,â you mumbled to your feet, trying to think of any excuse to leave and save yourself the embarrassment of bursting into tears in front of your classmates. His mismatched eyes stared at you, still confused about the whole situation.Â
âI have to go finish some homework now, see ya later.â Turning away, you hope you played it off well enough. No one seemed to notice as you walked heavily through the common space with a face made of stone until you reached the elevator.Â
Bakugo did though, and he was pissed at Todoroki for fumbling so hard that you got hurt. Their already unstable friendship took a massive hit after that. Eventually, after a lot of adjusting, Katsuki reasoned he could be okay with you dating someone else if it meant you were happy (and they were perfect and checked every single box he decided someone would need to in order to be worthy of you.) This wasnât it though.
âI don't mean high school. That one didn't count, â he says, remembering how helpless he felt watching you being heartbroken when you never did anything to deserve it.Â
âOkay, well there wasâŠâ
The girl you were with for a whole month before discovering she was a villain, just using you because she thought she could get top secret information. She didnât.
Then there was the guy you met at a coffee shop who stuck around for a while. He thought you were attractive but didnât want more than sex and wasnât sure how to bring that up. You being a hero was terrifying to him and he thought youâd stop sleeping with him when you realized thatâs all he was there for. You did.Â
And Shinsou, who had the most amicable breakup with. Heâs nocturnal and youâre well, not quite. After not seeing each other for three weeks, you decided your schedules just werenât compatible and called it. No media outlets picked up on it since there was nothing to pick up on.Â
Bakugo shifts uncomfortably in front of you. Brows furrowed and face unreadable to most. A twinge of jealousy overtakes him. Sure, the two of you havenât talked much since graduation, but he still has feelings for you. And hearing about all the losers who had a chance when he never did didnât sit right with him.
On top of that, admittedly, he also feels guilty. Maybe if he'd asked you out all those years ago he could have saved you from this pain. His assumption youâd settle for nothing but perfect had been shattered, leaving him to accept that he shouldnât have left you craving closeness from anyone but him. He should have been there.Â
Heâs here now though. At this point in life, he knows he isnât perfect but he could at least do better than everyone else you mentioned. If you let him.
âYou wanna get out of here?â he asks abruptly.
âWhat?â
âWanna go somewhere else? The food sucks here, thereâs a good ramen shop thatâs open late down the street.âÂ
âYou asking me on a date, Dynamite?â you joke.
âYeah,â he replies dead serious, âI am.â
 Suddenly youâre the one feeling flustered. A date with Katsuki Bakugo?Â
After a quick stop at coat check, the two of you are out the door. Running down the marble stairs to the rough sidewalk, his hand lightly around your wrist to guide you. A rain storm earlier left the streets glimmering, neon reflections from the surrounding shops. A few people trickle in and out of businesses in the typically bustling area, but tonight it feels like a ghost town.Â
Then youâre there.
He pulls you through an unassuming door. With a quick wave to the person behind the counter, they informally gesture the two of you towards the small seating area.Â
Sit wherever.
You slide over the cracked upholstery at a table in the corner. The pink sign lighting up the window casts a glow over his face, the warm color suits him.
When you left your place earlier, you never expected to end up on a date. Especially not here. The location being as much of a surprise as his sudden interest.Â
Sure, you always thought he was cute, but you never knew him. He spent all of high school keeping you at armâs length. Then after, youâve spent years basing your assumptions about Bakugo off the headlines youâd read. The dates he went on. Always models and idols. Fancy restaurants, valets, and expensive cars.
But this is real.
Across the table, you watch as he slides his suit jacket off. You hadnât realized how stuffy the atmosphere was earlier until you see him relax, top buttons of his shirt undone and sleeves rolled up. You forgot about the scars.
The woman running the shop approaches to take your order, not bothering to ask him - it appears he gets the same thing every time he comes in. Having been distracted, you quickly pick the first menu item that jumps out to you. She disappears into the kitchen.
âSo, what do you want,â he asks, sitting too casually for the depth of the conversation heâs bringing up. He needs to ask though, otherwise how will he know what to do? âYou told me what didnât work but not what you actually wanted in any of that.â
âI guess I havenât thought about it. Iâve just been working and-â
âBullshit,â direct, but his tone is playful as he flashes a slightly crooked smile at you.
Two bowls of ramen float through the air to your table - likely the quirk of the woman before. Youâre glad for the momentary distraction, giving you time to consider your answer. The food arrived suspiciously fast but with one sip from the oversized spoon, you know itâs amazing.Â
âHoly shit,â you exclaim.Â
âLike Iâd take you somewhere shitty,â he laughs, âstill dodging my question?â
âNo,â you pause, pulling a piece of bok choy from the bowl while you consider, ânot a villain would be nice.â
âBarâs that low, huh?â
â...and being able to spend time together at least once a week would be good.â
âOnly once a week?â he scoffs, âtoo easy.â
âWhat about you?â
He says nothing for a while, chasing a green onion around his spicy ramen with his chopsticks.
âThis is good,â he mumbles suddenly uncharacteristically shy, âlike a real, actual date.â
Looks like you arenât the only one with lowered standards.
âToo easy,â you smile.
If he told you how serious of a relationship he actually wants with you, he might scare you off. This is a great start though.
Abruptly, he changes the topic to hero work. You compare stories, scars.Â
He tells you how he got the small mark on his neck from a villain with a slashing quirk. How he took out a small area of buildings before Bakugo arrived to apprehend him.
You show him a similar scar on your wrist after the same villain escaped prison.Â
The evening passes far too quickly.
As he approaches the counter to pay, you donât miss the exchange between him and the older woman working. She looks overjoyed, saying something while glancing at you in the booth. He smiles awkwardly, his flushed face apparent even in the dim neon lighting.
âAlright, letâs get outta here,â he asserts while grabbing both of your hands to pull you to your feet.
âCan I take you out again?â he asks, as your feet have barely hit the pavement.
âYeah.â
âTomorrow night?â
âPerfect.â
more Bakugo: masterlist
#bakugo x reader#bakugou x reader#katsuki bakugou fluff#bnha x reader#katsuki bakugo x reader#bakugou x y/n#bakugou x you#bnha x you#bnha x y/n#bnha x gender neutral reader#bakugou katsuki x reader#bakugou katsuki x you#bnha fluff#my hero academia x reader#mha fluff#katsuki bakugo x y/n
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I am absolutely in LOVE with the way you draw Tango, especially the ears :O
If you're still taking requests, could you draw him with those adorable ears with earrings? Like super bedazzled-
Also hi your art is beautiful and I hope you have a wonderful day/night
Thank you so much for the nice words! I took some liberties and decided to bedazzle his face too lol
I hope you like it! Also here's the un-pierced version since I really love how his face turned out <3
Hermit/Traffic requests always open!!! (i might just take a while)
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Gavi bf headcannons đđ
pablo gavi bf headcanons ËâĄË àŁȘ
a/n: aaaa haven't written for my baby in agesss thank u for this req anon !! (ik it's preeeetty old so i hope u don't mind sjdnfdksjnf)
â
was actually quite shy before the two of you started dating, and even at the beginning of your relationship - just because he seemed intimidated by the idea of you and didn't want to put a foot wrong when talking with you
â
but as soon as he got comfortable with you he's talking your ear off about everything
â
like i just know he has the craziest gossip from the lockerroom and has opinions on absolutely EVERYTHING
â
just so so so clingy like you're literally amazed at how he used to function before the two of you started dating bc now he can't go more than like a day without seeing you
â
it isn't like a possessive clinginess (in reality it's actually a lot simpler) - he just knows he feels happy around you, and he loves you, so why wouldn't he want to spend every waking minute with you?
â
like, if there is a situation in which you have to spend time apart he's not going to stop you, but just know he's not going to enjoy it at all and the minute you reunite he'll have to make up for lost time
â
that and maybe a thousand texts about how much he misses you or tiktoks because everything he sees reminds him of you
â
love language is 100% physical touch like is there even a question ...
â
and it's more than just hugs and kisses it's interlocked pinkies, goodnight kisses on the back of your nape - if the two of you are lying on the couch or bed doing your own thing he'll throw a leg over yours just to feel your touch
â
thinking about that time kuonde said he's really fun to tease bc he's so easy to rile up ... yeah
â
like of course it's all loving but you just love the look on your boyfriend's face when you tease him - his pout and pleading eyes ...
â
definitely not a morning person at all, you've spent way too many mornings struggling to wriggle out of his grip in fear of being late for work/class
"Baby, I need to go," you say sternly, though given the fact that you're boyfriend's eyes are still closed you don't feel confident you're going to get your way. "Mmf," is all you get in response, as well as him strengthening his grip on you and burying his face into the side of your stomach.
â
(just remembered that clip of him snoring LOL) - which you actually didn't notice for like a year into your relationship because he always made sure you fell asleep first, it just makes it easier for him to rest knowing you're comfortable
â
but one night when u woke up to get some water you were absolutely shocked by how loud he could be (you opted to sleep on the couch that night because you wouldn't have been able to rest otherwise - but he came and found u in less than an hour because the empty space next to him woke him up)
â
as much as he hates to admit it, he lovesss being babied like he'll try to hold out as long as he can and put on a big manly front but the minute you're cooing and calling him pet names he's melting immediately
â
doesn't fully understand things like makeup/hair/clothes but what he does know is when his girlfriend looks extra beautiful
"I like that thing you did with your hair today, it's really pretty," he hums as the two of you are getting ready to leave on a date. "Oh? My blowout?" "Yeah, sure, it looks good on you - same as when you get those little white lines on your nails done." "French tips?" "Yeah, you tell your nail lady that and I'll pay for it."
#pablo gavi#gavi#pablo gavi x reader#pablo gavi x you#pablo gavi fluff#pablo gavi fanfic#pablo gavi fic#pablo gavi oneshot#fanfic#football#oneshot#fc barcelona#jet writes â
#purinfelix#jet answers â§
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hello dear!! i dont know if your are still taking requests or not, but if do you i would really love to see you write something fluff with a drunk daryl and reader, where he totally forgot that they are dating and just start acting shy and awkward around her, i know its cliche but i really love how you write daryl and think it would be so cute to see something like that written by youđ, but i totally understand if you are busy, i hope you are having a great day!đ„°
A drunk Daryl grows uncharacteristically shy around you, forgetting for a moment that you're together.
author notes: I just want to say its not v common for people who are drinking to forget who their s/o's are, but anything for you lolol, enjoy!!! x
thank you for the love!!!
The Alexandria dinner party is louder than usual, laughter spilling out into the quiet night. Someone had insisted on opening the last few bottles of wine, and you watch with amusement as Daryl, leaning against the far wall, swirls the red liquid in his glass like itâs some kind of trap.
âNever took you for a wine guy,â you tease, stepping closer. His eyes dart to yours, and the flush on his face deepens. You figure the alcoholâs working its magic, though Daryl had always been shy about these kinds of thingsâespecially in a crowd.
âDonât even taste right,â he mutters, setting the glass on a nearby table like it might bite him.
You grin. âThen why drink it?â
He shrugs, glancing at you sideways. The usual ease between you feels a little... off. His gaze flicks to your face, then away again, like heâs avoiding something. You tilt your head, trying to figure out whatâs wrong, when his voice breaks the quiet.
âYou look real nice tonight.â
The words come out low and shy, almost like he hadnât meant to say them. You blink, surprised, but before you can respond, he fumbles to add, âNot that ya donât always, but... I mean, yeah.â
âDaryl,â you say, trying to catch his eye. Heâs looking anywhere but at you now, cheeks burning. âAre you okay?â
ââM fine,â he grumbles, crossing his arms. But the way he shifts on his feet, the nervous way he rubs the back of his neckâitâs not like him. You step closer, studying him, until something clicks.
âOh my god.â You canât stop the laugh that bubbles up. âYou donât remember, do you?â
His brows furrow, lips parting in confusion. âRemember what?â
You canât believe it. âYouâre acting like we just met or something.â
Daryl stares at you, his eyes swimming with haze, but he blinks hard, trying to piece it all together. His eyes widen slightly. âWait... weâreâ?â
âYes, Daryl,â you say, trying to suppress another laugh. âWeâre together, at least I thought so,â
The realization hits him like a brick wall. His mouth opens, then closes, and for a second he just stares at you, dumbfounded. âShit,â he mutters, rubbing a hand over his face. âIâuh... forgot.â
âObviously,â you tease, stepping even closer until youâre standing right in front of him. âShould I be worried youâre forgetting about me already?â
âNah,â he says quickly, his voice quiet but insistent. âJust... too much wine. âS all.â
You bite your lip, trying not to smile too wide at how bashful he looks. The Daryl you know is rarely this unguarded, and itâs endearing. But as you watch him glance down at youâhis face still flushed and his nerves practically visibleâyou catch something softer in his expression. His hand drifts to the back of his neck again, but this time, a crooked grin follows.
âYouâre... somethinâ else,â he murmurs under his breath, almost to himself. âMust be the luckiest som' bitch,â
The words catch you off guard, and warmth blooms in your chest. âDamn right you are,â you say softly, but thereâs no teasing in your tone anymore.
His lips twitch, and he finally dares to meet your gaze. âGuess I donât mind that.â
You smirk, leaning up to press a quick kiss to his cheek. The move makes him freeze for half a second before his face turns a deeper shade of red, but his hand brushes yours in a subtle, almost instinctive gesture. Even drunk, even shy, Daryl Dixon couldnât hide how much he cared.
âCâmon,â you say, tugging lightly at his hand. âLetâs get you some water before you forget anything else."
#ask daryltwdixon#artsynana#daryl dixon#the walking dead#twd daryl#daryl#the walking dead daryl#daryl x reader#daryl twd#daryl fanfiction#daryl one shot#daryl dixion imagine#Daryl Dixon x reader#daryl dixon fanfic#Daryl Dixon fluff#fluffy#fluffy one shot
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Bridgerton folks, thank you for the warm reception of my new story.
This is "5 times Colin was Pen's first + 1 she was his", second episode. Here you'll find the first episode.
Today episode may also be titled "Pen meets Mr. Fingerton" đ„đ„”
***
Pen thought she might have dreamed the whole night.
No way Colin declared he wanted her and proceed to give her the best first kiss ever, and while she had not experienced it before, she knew the stories... Usually a first kiss was not all of that magical. Maybe it was because it was her and it was Colin. Everything they did seem kinda magical to her.
She was, again, at the door of his apartment and she was almost waiting for the moment he would start to treat her as a friend.
Instead, what happened, was that Colin opened the door, gave her his brightest smile and then a light kiss on her lips. So, maybe it was real.
"Sorry, I should have asked, I didn't know if you wanted-" he was adorable when he rumbled, Pen observed.
"Don't worry Colin. It's just, unexpected. I love welcoming you like this. Every day for the rest of my days".
She didn't have to worry about waiting for such declarations. Yesterday they talked at length about the future and them as a couple.
They both confessed they were yearning for this for quite some time, and they both laugh at their idiocy. But they were on the same page now. And they both know this was not a phase or temporary. They both were fully invested since the beginning.
That was the reason for seeing each other tonight. Well, that... And other reasons, at least Pen was hoping there were also other reasons.
She waited to damn long and she was ready. Possibly in that moment.
They ate and talk, laying out plans for their announcement as a couple (next Sunday on the bridgerton brunch). Pen was to ask her boss if she could do all remote (so she could come with Colin on his travels, as by his ask) and Colin was looking for a permanent place in London, so they could have a home base to stay when they were in the city (and eventually, when they were going to have kids).
Then, they looked at each other and it was like a magnet was at work.
They find themselves on the sofa, Pen on Colin's lap, kissing and touching every part they could reach.
Colin nibbled on her neck, before asking in a very deep voice "can I try something, Pen?"
She nodded. She wanted to try everything with him.
Colin flipped their position, then threw a pillow on the floor and knelt in front of her. She had a camisole and her lacy bra was barely visible. He took his time to unbutton her slowly, and Pen gulped when he was done. "Beautiful," he whispered.
Colin cupped her through the bra, teasing her. "May I?" He asked again and she responded by unclasping her bra herself. "Wow, Pen" Colin exhaled as his fingers were tracing her areola lightly. Her nipple was fastly caught it n between his fingers, making her moan. Colin looked at her with a wicked and deeply erotic smile, as he lowered his head to touch the sensitive skin with his tongue. "Ohh," his were the only fingers outside of her own that played with her breasts, and it felt marvelous.
Colin seemed obsessed by her neck and her cleavage. Pen was on fire, but she needed more. When his hand found hers, she rather directly pointed him towards where she was aching to be touched.
He looked at her. "Sure?"
"Never been more sure in my life," and Colin kissed her again, before finding her thigh and sliding his hand. He found her bare, much to his surprise.
"Miss Featherington!"
She was a bit embarrassed. "I had them on before. But then I thought why not and asked to use the bath."
His eyes were dark with desire. "Oh I do understand. You're an eager little thing, aren't you?"
Speechless. This was a new side of Colin she could not wait to explore. She just nodded as he skimmed over her auburn curls, "yup, eager and wet," he said as he went to touch her folds, using her wetness to lube his fingers.
He touched her lightly at first, watching her reactions, sometimes teasing her nipple s again, sometimes giving her little kisses.
"I can't believe I get to see you like this, Pen" and she wanted to respond but Colin choose that moment to slowly enter her with just the tip of his middle finger. "I can't believe I get to touch you like this," as his finger slide in deeper. Her mouth opened, the sensation so different from the one she was used too when she touched herself. A loud moan escaped her lips and he started a slow rhythm that made her tingle all over.
"Yes, like that love," he told her as he begin to touch with his thumb her clĂŻt, adding another level of pleasure. After some time he asked "another?" And she nodded her consent, feeling how herself was responding to his second finger inside her.
"I want to make you come on my fingers, is that okay Pen?"
Dear God in heaven. She might as well be in paradise. "Yes, Colin. Please!" She told him and then her brain went out of service as Colin kissed her.
It was clear he knew what he was doing, as he moved his fingers inside her with a motion that was working very fast for her. That and the light touch on her nub left her breathless, as Colin watched her again. That was the hottest thing. His look on her, as she was breaking into pieces under his touch. Pen used his arms to steady herself as Colin increased his rhythm until suddenly she was on the precipe and Colin remained steady in his movements.
She moaned a loud "Colin" a moment after, coming on his fingers. She moaned when she saw him sucking on his fingers like a it was his favorite dessert. "Next time," he said to her and she trembled.
Colin sat next to her, holding her steady. "That was... Incredible!" He looked smug, and Pen was looking at his very visible erection. "Do you want to?"
He looked at her. "I want to. But I also want to wait. Just a bit longer. It's weird to explain." But she understood.
"it's not. These are our firsts. We might have some in the future, but after so long waiting for each other, pacing these experiences makes them more meaningful."
He looked at her. "You nailed it."
She grinned. "Nope, you did."
Colin laughed loudly. "Not yet, love. Not yet." As he settled her on his side, kissing the top of her head sweetly.
She always imagined cuddle was as good as people told her, but somehow, it was even better than her imagination. These days everything was.
#polin#bridgerton#bridgerton season 3#bridgerton s3#polin positivity#polin bridgerton#polin brainrot
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Lost Fic #210
1. hi there! hope you're doing well:) I was hoping you could please help me find a fic that was posted definitely before s2 and possibly before s1. I think the premise had something to do with Adam Young meeting Eve; I remember reading the very beginning where he had a dream about her. Sorry if that's not enough to go on. Thanks for your time & have a lovely day/night𧥠- @garnetcapricorn
2. Hello! This may seem an odd request but there's a specific fic I can't find and I remember some lines: "that damned hand on his back" "He focused on worshipping the angel in front of him" or something similar. The summary had an excerpt from the fic, and the line "What if Aziraphale kissed back?" It was written within a few months of s2 being released I think. Im fairly certain it was rated g, but I'm not quite sure. I understand if you can't help, (it's a weird, specific request) I just thought I'd ask, but thank you anyway! - @ineffable-ezra
3. Hi! I'm looking for a fic I read on AO3 where Anathema and Aziraphale were main characters and Newt was Anathema's cat. I can't seem to find it no matter what search terms I use. (I have AO3 history turned off unfortunately.) Can you help? - @acorn-squash-writes
4. Helo!! Thank you for everything you mods do, you're amazing! Looking for a lost fic. Human AU, I unfortunately can't remember any details except the reason Crowley didn't eat much was because he was vegan. Not a big part of the plot, but it was a great read and looking to reread it. Thank you!! - @kaelia
5. hello everyone :) thank you so much for all the work you do finding all these fics. I have scoured all of the tags and on AO3, but can't seem to find this fic unfortunately. I remember that Aziraphale, possibly going by Ezra, moves to this small town. Crowley is out in his yard (I think lounging on a chair?) and aziraphale is like đ lol. I believe Crowley helps Azi with his plants. the summary was in italics and said something along the lines of "he didn't mean to fall, ..." something like that, potentially something about them kissing?? thanks again for your help :) - @19daysofmd
If you know any of these fics please include the number in your reply! Thank you :)
- Mod D
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if you're still doing writing requests
anything fluffy about the fire ghouls maybe đđŒ especially alpha or dew?
my day just got progressively worse haha so I need a pick me up
thank you so much đ have a lovely day/night wherever you are
- cupid ghoul but asking from anon bcs I'm NOT putting main on blast here haha >:) đ
I'm having a rough day as well after dealing with my car stuff. Hopefully some fluffy Dewdrop content will make it all better @cupid-ghoul :' )
Copia rushed through the halls, looking into any nearby room. He had been looking all over for Dewdrop, but he couldnât find the sometimes elusive fire ghoul.
It had begun to snow outside and he wanted to check in on Dewdrop to see how he was doing, but he wasnât in the ghoul den when he checked. The rest of the pack was outside enjoying the snow, but Dewdrop often did not go out when it was cold. The poor thing did not enjoy the cold that much.
âWhere could that ghoul be?â Copia murmured, crossing his arms as he thought of all the places Dewdrop could be. He had checked multiple sitting rooms where a fireplace was roaring but he wasnât in those rooms. Most siblings asked for his help with getting a fire going so Copia just had to check all of those rooms. He would find Dewdrop sooner or later.Â
After checking several more rooms, Copia was about to give up before he noticed two siblings rushing out of a room, whispering amongst themselves.
âDidnât know he could do that. How does that not hurt?â One questioned.
âI donât know. Good thing he took his clothes off. The smell would be awful,â another said.Â
That was a hopeful sign.Â
Copia put on a smile when the siblings noticed him. They gasped and straightened themselves up, looking frightened for a moment before calming down.
âGood morning, Papa. What brings you here?â The first sibling asked.
âAh, buongiorno. Good morning. Have you two seen Dewdrop anywhere?â Copia replied.
âHeâs in that room. Go take a look,â the second sibling said, gesturing to the open door.Â
Copia could already see the glow of a fire from within. His search was quickly coming to an end.
âGrazie. Thank you so much, my dears. Go get yourselves some hot chocolate or something nice and warm for helping me. Tell the siblings in the kitchen that Papa sent you,â Copia chimed, chuckling when he saw the delight on both of their faces.Â
âThank you, Papa!â They exclaimed before rushing away together.Â
Copia nodded in approval before turning his attention back to the room. He stepped in and immediately saw the roaring fire in the giant fireplace. The room felt like an inferno, but Copia was unphased. If a fire was this big, it meant only one thing.Â
Copia stepped closer and spotted Dewdrop lying in the fireplace, completely at peace and napping away amongst the burning logs. He held a log to his chest, purring away while nuzzling it. His clothes were strewn about the room, safely away from the fire.
Copia had heard tales of fire ghouls just napping in an open fireplace and it was quite a sight to see. Most times, he found Dewdrop laying before the fire and he never flinched when an ember flew out and hit his skin. Sometimes he was a bit too close to the fire for Copia's liking.
Dewdrop yawned loudly, inhaling embers and exhaling smoke as he opened his eyes, looking up at Copia tiredly.Â
âMm, morninâ, Papa,â he murmured, his voice barely heard over the fire.Â
âGood morning. Are you comfortable in there, Dewdrop?â Copia asked, smiling as he sat in a nearby armchair.
The ghoul nodded, curling up like a cat in the flames. He looked so cozy in there.
âCan you add some more logs, Papa? Itâs fuckinâ cold out there,â Dewdrop said, his tail lazily thumping the floor.Â
âOf course, ghoul. Are you making yourself nice and toasty for the others?â Copia chuckled while gathering some logs and tossing them into the flames, making them bigger.Â
âSure am. You want first dibs on cuddles?â Dewdrop asked, making space in the fireplace for him.
âAh, maybe later. You get your warm rest and Iâll see you later.â
Dewdrop didnât say anything else as he got comfortable with the new logs that hissed and sizzled around him. He was completely at peace in the fire and Copia was certain the rest of the pack would be all over him once they were done playing in the snow. Copia looked forward to joining that nice warm pile.
#the band ghost#ghost band#papa emeritus iv#papa copia#nameless ghouls#dewdrop ghoul#ghost band fanfic#fanfiction#ghost fanfiction
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HELLO THERE
Just wanted to give a small thank you to everyone for your support ;u; I LOVE reading your tags and lovely messages in the ask inbox đ THANK YOU SO MUCH
I'm sorry i haven't answered your questions for a while, i try to respond a couple of them every week but sometimes my brain is just too fried :') but please know I'll answer them eventually! I read them almost immediately but answering is the hard part. Right now there are 60 asks in queue so it's gonna take me a while to go through all of them aaa English isn't my first language so that makes it a little harder đ„č
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Out of Our Minds (Part 5)
Ledger!Joker x Harley Quinn-esque f!reader (18+)
CW: violence by gunfire and gas, implied deaths/fatal injuries
Words: 5.8k
Chapter Summary: After a long night of plans, you're ready to break your patient out of Arkham Asylum
Notes: Welcome back! sorry for the long wait, life has been pretty busy but here's the next part! Things are really cooking up in this one. Just wanna preface that in this series you are NOT a good guy, you're turning into a villain like Joker, so there will be lots of violence and so if you're uncomfortable with that stuff I advise you not to keep reading! I won't be getting graphic though (and I really hope that I don't have to be the one to remind you that in real life, murder bad) Also this whole chapter includes a plot for breaking out of Arkham that is very farfetched but we're gonna pretend like it makes sense, okay? okay. Enjoy!
Arkham is cloaked in shadows.
The patients are forced into these shadows, pushed there by people desperate to remain in the light. They want to be the light. To show themselves as all things good and pure. They walk around with their chins held high and their shoulders back, clucking like birds. They are bright. Intelligent. Classy. Or so they want to be seen as. What lurks beneath is all darkness.
These people avoided the shadows, and thank goodness for that.
As you lurked in the shadows, preparing for the madness to come, you couldnât help but smile.
_________________________________________
Your heart is pounding as you approach the two guards outside of Jokerâs cell. Youâve managed to move his session to be the last one of the day, and the anticipation has been killing you.
You donât know how you got here. You donât mean literally, you know how you got there, walking with shaking legs through security, scared that somehow they would see it in your face. That you were hiding something. They didnât even question you, waving you along while looking bored. After that, you realized they couldnât read you at all. They simply didnât care. So now, you hold yourself with confidence, hoping everything goes just the way you planned.
But getting here, being Jokerâs accomplice, that you were still figuring out.
âHello boys,â you say to the guards, even though theyâve seen you enough times to know the drill. They hand you the little remote, enter the code, and the door unlocks. Not a single word exchanged. You give them your best bitchy smile before walking through the doors. âThanks.â
There Joker is, his face paint still intact, though smudged. You let out a deep sigh of relief, and while the door closes behind you, you take your seat, not exactly sure where to start. âMr. J,â is all you can manage to get out.
Joker leans forward, dark eyes glinting. âYes, sweets?â
You take a deep breath. âAre you ready to break out of Arkham?â
The smile on his face is like none other youâve ever seen from him. Itâs giddy, itâs dangerous, itâs thrilling. God, you love it. âDoll, that, ah, might just be one of the best things Iâve ever heard you say.â
It took you all night to think up a plan, with the little time you had. You knew you had to take advantage of just how little people cared for you, finally it was serving as a positive. Youâd racked your brain, setting up a giant piece of paper on your wall and drawing out the layout of Arkham. Youâd marked where the guards would be, how theyâd move, the security cameras and alarms scattered around the building. It had all looked like a mess at first. A puzzle you wouldnât be able to put together. Yet the more you thought about it, the more you realized you were thinking too much about how to perfectly escape and not how to rely on your own strengths. Not only could you fly under the radar, but you were light on your feet, had learned a few tips from Joker on weaponry, and the only people who (mostly) respected you in Arkham were your patients.Â
Youâd not gotten any sleep but it was worth it as you pieced everything together. The main part of your plan did not necessarily involve high level theatrics like J, but Arkham was in for one hell of a ride.
Reaching up into your hair, you pull out a hair pin, reaching over and grabbing Jokerâs wrist. âHereâs what weâre gonna do,â you say, starting on attempting to unlock the cuffs. Jokerâs lesson was somehow still fresh in your mind but it wasnât an easy task. âIâm going to press the button on my remote that will alert the two guards outside the door to come in. Weâll be standing on either side of the door, and weâll need to take them both out.â To your surprise, the handcuffs unlock with a small click, and you beam as the cuffs fall away.Â
Joker lifts his hand, moving his wrist, which is partially bruised from the cuffs. âAnd what about the other layers of security?â
âThereâs two layers of security. That was the tricky part, but Iâve talked to a few of my patients and theyâve agreed to⊠start a ruckus as a distraction. As long as most guards are occupied with the patients, the ones out there wonât have backup. We can knock them out easily.â
He smacks his mouth. âIt all sounds too easy.â
You move to his other wrist, pushing the hair pin into the cuff. âI know, but itâs not gonna be easy. Things are going to go wrong but weâve gotta try.â Again, with a bit of a struggle, the cuffs pull open with a satisfying click. You look down at his ankles, grateful that it seems he hasnât been cuffed there. âYouâre free.â
He stands up, stretching himself out, and you watch with earnestness as he groans and cracks his knuckles. âNot just yet, dolly. Got that remote handy?â
You grab the remote from your purse before tossing the purse to the side. You wonât be needing that anymore. âGot it.â As you stare down at the remote, everything hits you way too fast, like a mallet to the chest. Your breathing falters, your heartbeat speeding up with a rapid bump bump bump-. Itâs not that youâre scared, not necessarily, but youâre scared that youâll fail both you and Joker. Youâre not J. You donât know how to do this shit. âIâŠâ
Everything goes blurry and it takes you a second to realize Joker has moved in front of you. He places his hands on your shoulders, bending slightly to look you right in the eye. âYouâve got a sharp mind, dolly. I, ah, know you wouldnât fail,â he says, an odd reassurance but it works, and you can feel your breathing go a bit steadier. Then you realize how close the Joker is. Heâs touching you, no cuffs, no table between you, no barriers. Heâs right in front of you, all of him. âWeâre getting out of here.â
âRight,â you mumble, straightening yourself. Much to your disappointment, he drops his hands from you, moving towards the door. You suppose itâs now or never. With a shaky breath, you follow after him, moving to the opposite side of the door. Now, the both of you stand on either side, prepared for whatever comes your way. âReady?â you ask him.
He nods. âReady, Doc.â
You press the green button.
The both of you press your backs to the wall as you hear the door click open. Itâs far too early into the session for you to be leaving, so the guards must know something is wrong. The first guard walks in, the door swinging open so that it blocks the view of J, while you hold your breath to keep quiet. The guard doesnât notice you, and his mouth drops open as he sees the table empty. He draws his gun, holding it out. âWhat the fu-â
Springing into action, Joker grabs the guard from behind, picking him up and throwing him across the room. The guard screams, his gun flying away from him as he hits the floor. In one quick swoop, Joker grabs the gun off the floor and jams the butt of it into the guardâs head, just as the other guard runs inside the room, already firing shots. J made it look so easy, but this other guy is your problem. Filled with a sudden adrenaline, you come up behind him, kicking him forward. Youâre not the strongest, so he only stumbles, immediately whipping around to try and shoot you. Combat certainly isnât your strong suit, not yet, but you can move exceptionally well. You sidestep him as he tries to ram the gun into your stomach, and you opt to knee him in the groin. He groans and tries to shoot you again, and you squeal as the bullets pierce the walls. Thank god the room is soundproof otherwise the guards outside would have come running in. From the corner of your eye, you catch Joker watching you. Heâs holding the gun. He could shoot the guy easily but he doesnât. He wants you to take the guard down.Â
âBitch,â the guard mutters, opting to try and throw himself on top of you just for you to dodge him again, lifting your leg and giving him a good knock to the ribs. He cries out, and as he tilts to the side, you give him a good punch to the temple. With a sick pleasure, you watch as he collapses to the floor, eyes wide open, barely breathing. Quickly, you grab his gun, not wanting to take any chances.Â
You look up at Joker, whoâs smiling as he watches you catch your breath, gripping the gun in your hand. âImpressive, doll. Though, ah, you definitely need to work on your skills.â
âYouâre the one who gave me a night to think of this,â you grumble, and he chuckles. âWasnât exactly able to take a defense class.â
âIâll teach ya.â
Suddenly, the room begins to glow red, sirens blaring that make your bones vibrate. You look at him in panic, he looks at you with excitement. Clearly, you both have very different definitions of fun. The sirens arenât for you though, the Arkham security team doesnât like to cause commotion for just a single patient causing mayhem. The patients must have started a ruckus, whether it be a riot or starting a fight with one another, you hadnât gone into the details. You just told them to be distracting.Â
You tilt your head towards the door. âComing?â
âYou go first, doll.â
You move ahead, prying the door open. Two more guards stand in the room, talking in hushed whispers beneath the blare of the siren. They donât even notice you as you hold out the gun, firing into one guardâs shoulder and immediately spinning and shooting the other one in the hand. The guard whose hand you shot drops to the floor, their gun hitting the ground alongside them, and you quickly move forward and kick it. But as you kick the gun, a bullet flies out in front of you, nearly grazing your nose, and you spin around, the guard who you shot on the shoulder aiming his gun right at you. Fuck. You tense as his finger moves to pull the trigger again but before he can move any farther a bullet digs into his side and then one into his chest and he goes limp.Â
You turn to see Joker huffing with the gun in his hand still smoking. âDoll, youâve got a lot to learn. Youâre not even-â He turns and shoots the other guard in the chest â-getting in good shots. Youâre leaving yourself vulnerable. Gotta make sure you get emâ where they canât shoot back.â
âIâm sorry,â you mumble, suddenly feeling embarrassed. You didnât expect to be this unprepared.
Seeing your expression, Joker falters a bit. âNo apologies. Iâve told you, it, uh, doesnât mean anything to me. Itâs just a word.â He comes up to you and nudges you with his shoulder. âCâmon. Last room of guards before we have to run, right?â
âRight.â
âWell then,â he says, pointing to the door with his gun. âYou first.â
This time, you donât want to screw things up. You put the gun behind your back, pulling the door open with your other hand and entering the final room. This room has a security camera in the corner, so you donât want to go in all guns blazing. You have an idea, and with the gun, gesture for Joker to stay hidden. You hope thatâs what your gun waving conveys anyways. Three guards turn to look at you, the ones that greeted you when you first came in, two men and a woman. Theyâre all masked but you can make out the slight outline of their face beneath the face shield.
The woman runs forward, no gun drawn, leaving it still hanging at her hip. âMiss l/n, what happened?â She tries to crane her neck to see behind you but youâve inched the door closed enough so she canât see too much on the other side. âWhat happened with the nutbag? Are the guards attending to him?âÂ
You nod rapidly, trying to look like youâre startled. Your acting skills might need some touching up, another thing to work on. âYes, I- I just wasnât feeling very comfortable⊠Felt like I needed to get out of there.â
The woman snorts. âAlright, maâam. Well, is there anything you need from us? Some other whackos are causing a disturbance.â
âYes, I, um-â You pull out your gun. âI need you to step aside and let us through.â You slam the barrel into her stomach, sending her flying backwards, and in one fluid motion you shoot the security camera in the corner and then train your gun on one of the other guards. You can sense Joker step out from behind you, shooting the other guard before he can even lift his own gun. The guard youâve trained your gun on aims his gun right back at you. âYouâre gonna let us go, ainâtcha?â you say, trying to keep your voice from shaking. You have to remain confident. âOr else this bullet is going in your head, right, Mr. J?â you say, looking at Joker. If youâre gonna be a villain to these people, might as well play the part.
Joker nods, mimicking your stance and pointing his gun at the guard. âWhaddya say, doll, what should we do if he, uh, refuses to listen?â
You tighten your finger on the trigger. âI can think of a few things.â
The guard drops his gun, raising his hands in surrender. It sends warmth through your chest. Even if it's sickly satisfying. You feel proud. âOkay, okay,â he blubbers, looking between them both. âPlease just donât kill me, Iâll let you go, please.â
Joker giggles. âHow generous, you know, normally Iâd use you to get out of this place but I donât think we need the extra weight.â Joker shoots the man in his left hand, bam, then once in the other, bam. âLooks like you wonât be able to do much! Buh-bye!â The man faints immediately.
Seeing Joker at work, this sinister side of him youâve only seen on the screen, makes you shiver, and your grip on the gun only tightens, knuckles going white. âThe uniform. Take his uniform.â
Joker pouts at you. âAw, it ainât even my color.â
âJ,â you warn.
âKiddingggg, doll. Why so serious?â Grabbing the man, Joker strips him of his uniform roughly, getting each piece off before stripping out of his own clothes. Your cheeks turn pink and it all happens so fast before you can even think to turn your head and give him privacy. He pulls his shirt up over his head, chest in full display. The first thing that catches your eyes are all the scars and bruises littering his stomach, pink and jagged, scars you want to trace beneath your fingertips. Heâs surprisingly toned, just like his arms. Not muscular exactly, but strong looking. Before you can get a better look, he pulls on the guardâs black undershirt, then fastens on the bulletproof vest. When he catches you staring, he grins. âEnjoying the show?â
You turn your head as he kicks off his pants, though you can still see him in your peripheral, throwing on the black cargo pants the guard had donned. âNo,â you lie.
âAnd, are you, uh, gonna be gracing us with a costume change as well?â
You bite back a smile. âNo.â
âPity.â
When heâs finally done, you turn around just as he puts on the helmet. You donât like that itâs hiding his face from you but you can still see his scarred smile if you look hard enough. âLookinâ good, soldier,â you tease, saluting him.Â
His lips twist into a smirk. âLucky I like givinâ orders. Letâs move.â
âOkay, J, for this part, youâve gotta follow me. Iâll run up ahead and lead you down to where we need to go, you gotta take out anyone you can. Got it?â
âLetâs see if we die or not, shall we?â
âYou could try and be positive .â
You open the door, poking your head out to look around, and shit, itâs chaos out there, guards running back and forth, clearly busy with whatever the patients started. You can hear screams, banging, and laughter beneath the sound of the still screeching sirens. The place still glows a flashing red. You point to the right, down a long hallway. âThis way!â you shout, running towards a set of doors at the every end of the hall. Arkham is a bit of a labyrinth but you know it well. Down that hallway leads to another hall which leads to more doors which then, finally, leads to the staff wing of Arkham. Itâs where the back exit/entrance is. And also where youâve parked your getaway vehicle.Â
You donât wait for Joker, but you can hear his steps behind you, the combat boots he stole pounding on the floor. Nobody seems to notice either of you at first, or theyâre too busy to even give it any mind. You know eventually someone will run past Jokerâs conference room and realize heâs not inside. His room empty. All traces of him gone. But you hope youâve bought at least a bit of time.Â
As you run, more guards run past you, and youâre nearly knocked off course as one bumps your shoulder. You keep steady on your feet though. Thank goodness for all those gymnastics lessons. The only time you glance over your shoulder is to make sure Joker is behind you before you push through the doors. Once you see him in all his suited up glory, you carry on through the doors, Joker just a step behind. âTo the right again,â you yell. Thereâs less guards down here, but that means even more likely youâll be caught. Already, you can see them turn to you, wondering what the hell youâre doing running off with one of the guards close behind. As the two of you run, one of the guards turns their attention to you. âHey! What are you two doing?â the guard barks, running up in front of you. âThe lady has a gun!â
You could probably give them an excuse that youâre running away from the danger but you feel too angry. âRunning to safety, dumbass!â you say, using the gun like a hammer and hitting them on the head like a game of whack-a-mole. That was a hell of a lot more fun than shooting a gun. As the guard crumples to the floor, at least five other guards take notice, and you have to quickly jump over the guardâs unmoving body to run as fast as you can through the doors. You can hear gunshots explode all around you, itâs like a miracle youâre not hit, and you can tell which gunshots come from the guards and which from J. But before you know it, every single one of them falls flat on the floor. âNice one, J,â you say, and he cuts up ahead of you, opening the door for you.
âLadies first,â he says. Â
âSo gentlemanly.â You shoot out ahead of him. Now youâre in the staff hallway, lined with doors which leads to locker rooms and places to conduct meetings. At the very end of the hall is the exit. Youâd be jumping for joy if it wasnât for the fact that any second more guards would be chasing after you.
You grab his arm, pulling him down the hall, running faster than you ever have in your entire life. âExit this way!â you scream through the chaos, heading into the âstaff onlyâ area of the building. Looming ahead of you, just down the hall of rooms and lockers, is the staff exit, leading to the back end of Arkham. You look over to Joker. âYou ready?â
Joker moves his arm away from you, instead grabbing onto your hand with his own free one. âAs Iâll ever be.â
The two of you barrel down the hall, practically slamming into the exit doors, desperately tugging them open. There doesnât seem to be many people around except for a few guards lining the outside, and Joker moves to take care of them as you yank him towards your car. Well, your stolen car. You werenât gonna risk coming in your own vehicle. âHere,â you say, pointing to a black car in front of you. Letting go of Jâs hand, you stuff yourself into the driver's seat, and Joker shoots at another guard before cramming himself into the passenger seat. âDrive,â he yells, and you grab the keys from your pocket, turn them in the key hole, and slam on the pedal. He throws off his mask, tossing it in the back seat. âFaster!â
As you get to driving, you remember the final bits of your plan. The part youâre most proud of. âHey, J, wanna hear what other distraction I planned?â you yell over the roar of the engine, as you swerve around the parking lot.
âWhaddisit?â
âGas! The same kind they might have used on you. Rigged it all up on my own. The patients should be all rounded up in their cells by now and the guards? Theyâre getting knocked out cold!â
You have to focus, but you turn towards Joker, your heart swelling in your chest when he looks impressed. His eyes are wide as he pulls down the window and looks back at Arkham as you pump it straight out of the parking lot, taking down the small security gate. In your rear view mirror, you can see green explosions of gas within the windows. If all worked well, only the guards should be getting knocked out about now, leaving no one to come after you. Police will be on their way, but that at least gives you a bit more time and them a distraction. Plus, they arenât sure what theyâre looking for, no clue what car or who helped Joker escape, not until they can wake the guards.
Now, you realize, you canât just go back to your apartment. Itâs too risky. You look at J as you slow the car, trying to blend in with the rest of Gotham traffic. You failed to plan this far. âJ, I donât know where to go now.â
âI do,â he says, leaning over, making sure not to put too much weight on you or crush you as he takes hold of the wheel. âJust pump the gas, doll, Iâll get us somewhere safe.â
It sounds like a horrible idea, but you nod. Youâd make it work. âOkay,â you say, and as the light turns green, you hit the gas. Itâs scary as hell just controlling the gas, letting Joker swerve you both around, but you trust him. Ha, funny. You trust the Joker. He drives you towards the outer parts of Gotham, and as you enter a rather dingy residential street, he moves the car off the road. âPark it here,â he says, and you obey, pressing the brake and shifting the car into park.Â
âWhy here?â
âIâve got a spot around here.â
âYou have an apartment?â
He snorts. âNo, Iâve got a, uh, hideout spot in one of the abandoned warehouses at the outskirts of Gotham. And it wouldnât be very wise to park right outside the entrance.âÂ
Smart, you hadnât thought of that. Clearly you lack experience in this realm. You grab the keys and throw open the door, Joker doing the same, and the two of you begin walking on the sidewalk, Joker taking the lead. Darkness has already set over the city, and the two of you walk beneath the light of dim street lamps. Itâs cold out, and your white coat isnât exactly meant to keep you warm, so you hug yourself to try and keep away the chill. âIs it very far?â you ask, and you realize this is the first quiet time you both have had together since escaping. Youâve been too anxious over escaping to even think about everything thatâs happened. To think of how the Joker is right next to you, taking you to one of his many hideaways.Â
Joker shakes his head. âNot too far, doll.â
Silence settles upon you both, the two of you far too preoccupied with getting to the warehouse to say much of anything else.
As you walk, the blare of sirens starts up in the distance, and when you turn behind you, you can see police lights in the distance. Youâre positive theyâre not for you, not yet, but if they even caught a glimpse of the Joker, the two of you would be over. Joker knew this too, clearly, grabbing your arm and picking up his pace, practically dragging you as he began to run. Everything is a blur as the two of you fly through the streets. Even though youâre not bad at running, after a few twists and turns, your legs start to hurt, your chest feeling heavy. But Joker doesnât stop, probably used to running from lord knows what. Before you can register anything, youâre climbing over gates and Joker pushes open the large doors of the abandoned warehouse, pulling you in and up a crumbling flight of stairs until you reach the second floor.
Finally, Joker and you stop moving, taking time to catch your breath. Fuck, everything hurts.
You gasp, throwing yourself against the concrete wall of the warehouse, sliding down until your butt hits the floor. Your chest moves rapidly up and down as you try to catch your breath. Joker crouches in front of you. âBreathe, just breathe, good girl.â He holds out his arms. âCâmere.â
Immediately, you lean forward and throw your arms around him, going limp. He stands up, taking you with him, your legs dragging lifelessly on the floor until only the tips of your toes touch the concrete. You bury your face into his shoulder, and for a second everything feels right. Finally, a quiet moment, and everything crashes down on you, every decision youâve made. It takes a second for you to process that youâre hugging the Joker, and heâs letting you hug him back. This man, this villain youâd become infatuated with, was holding you close. Youâve imagined something like this before, even when you didnât want to, but this is better than any of that. âWe did it,â you mumble into his guard shirt, which smells like rust and gunsmoke. âWe escaped.â
âYou did it,â he says, and when you finally pull back to look at him, heâs smiling at you. He gently settles you back on to the floor. âTheyâre going to come looking for us though. Weâll need to lay low for the moment.â
âIn here?â Itâs strange to be so close, your arms still wrapped around his neck. âThis where you usually stay?â
âI stay all over.â
âVery spacious,â you say, moving your head to look around. âWhere do you sleep though? On the hard floor?â
âChaos doesnât sleep, darling.â
âNo, but people sure do.â You tug gently on one of his locks of hair and he growls. âYou need sleep.â
âCanât sleep now. Not when weâre being pursued.â He wrinkles his nose. âThis your first time being a wanted criminal?â
âDuh.â
âI really canât believe you did it, doll. Made up a whole plan and everything and got me out of Arkham.â Much to your dismay, he moves away from you, walking to some other part of the building. You hesitantly follow after him. âWe can camp out here for the night but then weâll have to move.â In a secluded corner of the room, a moth-eaten curtain hangs from the ceiling, concealing that whole part of the room. Joker takes the curtain in his hand, then looks at you. âCourse, we canât exactly fend for ourselves without weapons, can we?â
Yanking back the curtain, on the other side is a wall full of all sorts of weapons. Guns, knives, even TNT. Thereâs crates full of clothes, Jokerâs clothes, you assume. Some clown masks. All sorts of tools for mischief. You look at it all like a child in a candy store. âJ, this is amazing. Isnât it kind of risky keeping it locked up in here though?â
âIâve got some goons guarding it. And nobody in Gotham comes in here anymore, Iâve made sure of it.â He shrugs. âIf anyone were to find it, let emâ take it, Iâd just get duplicates and use them all on the thief.â
You move forward to get a better look at everything as Joker drifts behind you. It should be scary just how much violence is here at his fingertips but know it just makes you swell inside.
âSo, how about it, doll? Pick your poison,â Joker says, holding your shoulders from behind. You look over all your options. The guns werenât exactly your style, you were better at hitting people with them than you were at shooting them. The blades looked nice, and youâd like to learn to use them, but they could only do so much. Something that did catch your eye, sticking out from the other weapons, was a mallet in the corner. It was a tad comically large, definitely not the regular kind youâd see on a construction site. You move forward, Joker moving with you, and grab the handle.Â
âWhaddya have this one for?â you ask.
âUhhhh, to kill people with?â
You glare at his snarky response, though youâre still smiling. âI figured that much. Whereâd you get it from though?â
âAmusement Mile.â The old, abandoned theme park towards the other end of Gotham. Itâs been shut down ever since you were a child, but you remember your parents driving past it. Seeing a place that must have been so exciting and colorful look so dark and decrepit was chilling. âFound it at one of those old high striker games. Adjusted it a bit.â
Lifting it, you test the weight. Itâs definitely heavy, but the weight is distributed evenly, making it easy to maneuver. You give it a quick swing, the whoosh of the mallet like music to your ears. This was what you needed. Sturdy, not too hard to wield, and perfect to pair with your swiftness. âI want this one.â
âGonna play a game of whack-a-bat with that one?â He maneuvers in front of you, grabbing the handle of the mallet before you could give it another swing. âYou can take that one. But you need a gun too. The mallets theyâre, uh, too big to get around places sometimes.â
You look back at the wall and point at a small silver gun. âIâll take that one too.â
He grins. âAre you sure youâre, ah, ready to cause some damage?â
You drop the mallet. âIâve been ready.â All your life youâve been pushed to the side. No, pushed to the ground. You were ready to hurt some people back. To make skyscrapers crumble and leaders fall. This anger inside you boils, and you can feel your grip tighten on the handle, envisioning every person who has wronged you.
Jokerâs laugh pulls you back to reality, stepping up closer in front of you. âCalm down there, lovely. They call me the Harlequin of Hate but I think that title better suits you,â he says, cupping your chin. âMy little Harlequin, partner to the Clown Prince of Crime.â
ââââââââ-
That night, youâre stuck sleeping on a mattress on the floor.Â
You flop down on your back, the mattress not the comfiest thing youâve ever slept on but it works. Thereâs no blanket, so no way of keeping warm, and you try and shift around to find a comfortable position. Joker sits on the edge of the mattress, his knees tucked up to his chest, and itâs such an odd sight to see him so regular that you laugh. His head jerks to look at you. âAdmirinâ the view?â
âMaybe,â you say, smiling as you lay on your side. âItâs just weird to see you here. Not in Arkham or fighting B-Man.â
He hums. âIt ainât everyday I bring people around ereâ. At least, not like this.â
âLucky me, huh?â
âYou realize youâre in this forever now, right? Thereâs, uh, no goinâ back from here.â
The weight of it settles on you. âI know... I wouldnât have gone along if I didnât know that.â
âWell, if you wanted to go, you could go now. You could walk free, tell the cops I threatened you and made you do all this.â He looks down at his feet. âI, ah, wonât stop you.â
Youâre surprised to find your eyes watering. Joker, this menace, a force to be reckoned with, was giving you the option to leave. He could be fooling you, of course, but you could tell from the way the words escaped him awkwardly, uncomfortably tender, that he meant every bit of it. Heâd let you go, you could continue your regular life, maybe find a better job. But that wasnât the point of why you freed him. You wanted to escape too, to show Gotham how corrupt it was, and you wouldnât do that without J. âIâm not walking away,â you say back.
âYouâre insane, ya know that?â
âI know.â You stare at one another in silence. Finally, you yawn. âAre you⊠are you gonna come to bed?â Youâre not sure exactly whatâs going on between you and Joker. You like him, you know that much, but how much exactly does he like you? Enough to keep you around, obviously. But to what extent did he want you around? Did he want not just your loyalty but also your affections? You were ready to give affection, but was he?Â
Joker shakes his head, and you feel yourself grow disappointed. âYou go on, doll. I, uh, gotta keep watch.â
âMr. J-â
âI like it when you call me that.â
â-Youâve gotta get some sleep. Youâre gonna pass out without it.â
âIâll be fine,â he grumbles. âDonât ya get your pretty little head worried over it.â
âYouâre an ass.â
Your anger only makes him smile. âIf youâre so, ah, worried, then just wake up early and Iâll drift off for a bit.â
âThen thatâs exactly what Iâll do,â you say, flipping over, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing you ticked off. Youâre not actually upset, you just wished Joker prioritized himself a bit more. That was something to deal with another day. âGoodnight, J.â
âNight, darlinâ.â
That night you dream of Gotham in flames. You dream of chaos. You dream of him.
Taglist:
Taglist: @lightsabergirl / @knoepfl / @jeffswh0re / @itsmrshamilton / @heath-ledger-jokers-wife / @lolwey / @ilovetoomanymen / @amazingzou/ @ronniesweetkisser / @emberhatesthemoon
lmk if you'd like to be added to the taglist!
#dark knight#dark knight joker#dark knight joker x reader#heath ledger joker#heath ledger joker x reader#joker x reader#ledger joker x reader#dark knight fanfic#dc joker
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Warnings: Straight up incest in this chapter.
Kiara didn't trust Rafe. Not at all. He had always been a bully. The kook. One who got everything he ever wanted. And he did. Didn't he? He got away with murdering a cop. Rafe Cameron had more privilege than the average white male, and that was already a lot.
Fucking patriarchy.
During her Kook Year he was charming and kind to her. He still sort of was at times. But even then she couldn't forget what he was. Sarah apparently did. Letting him get away with murder. And Kie got it. Alright? She did. He was her brother and they used to be very close. He was there for her when their mother died. She was loyal to him. But to this extent?
Then again, wouldn't Kie cover up for JJ, John B and Pope in similar situations? Hasn't she covered for them already when they were doing some illegal shit like stealing? And yeah, murder was worse than stealing, but Rafe was still someone Sarah loved. So maybe she could understand. And Ward deserved to go to prison more than Rafe did. Ward Cameron had killed three people in his search for the gold, he was an actual serial killer. And he had been sober while doing it, unlike Rafe.
"Are you sure of what you're doing?" she asked Sarah once they were on board of that immense cargo ship. They were given one of the rooms, even through it didn't take a full day to reach the Bahamas. Sarah and Rafe stayed in another. Which was kinda weird, but she had chosen to sleep with the boys rather than get a room for herself so she really couldn't judge "All of this is...I don't know, Sarah. It's all so weird. You siding with Rafe and literally covering up a crimeâ"
"Lower your voice" her friend hissed, anxiously looking around.
They were on the deck, watching as the ship moved in the dead of the night.
Kie looked around. There was no one but them there.
"Sorry"
"Yeah. I'm sure. And even if I wasn't, it's too late to turn back now"
Kiara knew that to be true. They have committed too many crimes already. All of them. They were all covering for Rafe, John B even lied before a judge. There was no going back now.
"Let's hope we don't regret this"
Sarah smiled softly, kindly, brown eyes crinkling.
"I don't think I will"
Kie huffed. Not her, but they might. Especially if Rafe fucked them over with the gold. Not that she thought that would happen, not with Sarah vouching for them, but it was always a possibility.Â
"I'm gonna check on the boys" she told her "Make sure they haven't gotten into a fight with Rafe"
Sarah chuckled "Yeah, that could happen"
Kie went back to the heir room, being careful where she stepped due to the darkness. She couldn't afford to fall off the ship. She didn't want to fall off the ship. Both Sarah and her went inside, but their ways parted before Kie could reach her room. The boys were all there, thankfully. None were getting into a fight with Rafe.
"Kie, thank God! Help us here" John B exclaimed standing from the bed he chose "JJ just had a stupid idea"
"His kind of ideas" Pope murmured.
"Funny, Pope" JJ turned to her, jumping from the top of the bunk bed "Very funny. But you know I'm right. We should knock out Rafe and take the gold. Yucatan is right there, waiting for us"
Kie sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. Yeah, that was definitely a JJ idea. One of the worst he ever had. Which said a lot.
"We're not doing that"
"Why not?"
"Because it's a stupid idea?"
"And Rafe is crazy, he could kill us"Â
Yeah, that too.
"Look, this is fair. We'll have the exact same amount of money we were going to have before" John B was being rational, which was weird because he normally was the second most chaotic "Let's not ruin this"
"Yeah. We are so close now. It's best to swallow our pride"Â
"I agree with Pope"Â
JJ rolled his eyes, running a hand through his blonde hair. Much that she loved him, she couldn't agree with his stupid ideas, or maybe because she loved him she couldn't encourage him in those things.
"Fine. What y'all want, but if shit goes the wrong way because of Rafe, don't say I didn't warn ya"
"Sarah won't let anything happen"
"And does Sarah have that much sway with Rafe?"
"She did get him to give us the gold rather than keep it"
"Exactly!" Kie's phone began to ring. It was her mom. She didn't think twice before turning it off "Let's get some sleep, the Bahamas are seven hours away, better to arrive well-rested"
JJ frowned at her, as if there was something he didn't understand. He didn't ask anything, and she didn't say anything either.
Â
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There was some money in the safe back in Tannyhill. Rafe made use of it to get the ship to take them to the Bahamas and transport the gold with discretion. The gold better be in that fucking safe. He thought twisting his signet ring nervously. If it wasn't, they were fuck. Him, Sarah and Wheezie. They would take his sisters from him, put them in the system. Rafe would fucking die if that happened. He couldn't allow it. He would end up killing more people. Because being sober was making him more irritable and with no money and no family he just might go to prison.
"Mr Cameron" the captain of the crew, he thought his name was Terry or something "There is enough water for you and your wife to take a shower"
Wife? Oh, right. Sarah.
"Thanks" he forced himself to be nice, but didn't correct him in his assumption "I'll tell her"
He handed the stout man some bills before going back to their room. Wife. He thought my sister was my wife. That didn't bother him, not at all. But he didn't get why Terry had assumed that. Did they really act that weird? Like, yeah, they were not normal siblings, especially him. And he could understand that maybe he didn't look at Sarah like he should. I definitely don't. But to think they were married was something else.
Not something bad. To him, at least. How would Sarah take it?
I don't need to tell her.
Yeah, it wasn't something important. No need to tell her. Back in their room, Sarah was scrolling through her phone, barefoot on the bed.
"Hey" he closed the door "There's water for us to take a shower if we want to"
"Cool" she smiled at him.
The light of the room made Sarah's hair look like melted gold, shiny and beautiful. Rafe extended his hand and caught a silky strand between his fingers. Sarah looked up to him, big brown eyes bearing a strange glint. She looked pretty like that.
So so pretty.
He cleared his throat, letting go of her hair and taking a step back. He shouldn't go there.
"I don't trust the pogues" he said trying to avoid thinking about what his mind was about to think "They want to keep all the gold"
"Well, a part is mine. Ours. So they better not"
Rafe tilted his head.
"What if they did?"
Sarah stopped for a moment, blinking as if trying to come up with an idea, then she shrugged.
"We'd go after them. No killing though" she smirked "I'm gonna hit the shower"
He watched her go to the small bathroom attached to their room, mouth quirked upwards. Then he remembered what he had to do. What he had promised Sarah he would do. Apologize. Just the thing he was worst at.
It wasn't really as hard as he thought it would be, going to the pogues room and knocking at the door. If he was lucky, he would be with Sarah in a moment.
"What are you doing here?" Kiara asked when she opened the door.
"Can I talk to Pope?"
Kiara looked at him in disbelief. Yeah, he couldn't believe it either.
"Why would you want to talk to me?"
He stepped inside the room, all four pogues up on their feet, but the beds were all unmade. They were sleeping, or trying to, but now they were all tense and alert. It was kinda flattering to be honest.
"I wanted to apologize for what I did" he twisted his signet ring "It was wrong. I'm sorry"
Pope and Kiara blinked at him dumfounded, meanwhile John B seemed to not believe a word and JJ was snarling at him. He didn't really care about those two.
"Rafe Cameron apologizing?" JJ snorted "Is the world ending?"
"Are you actually sorry?" Pope squinted his eyes at him, mistrustful.
Rafe couldn't blame him.
"Yeah. I am. You didn't deserve that, if anything I should have attacked JJ"
"Weird apology" Kiara murmured.
"Well, I did it because I was trying to prove a point I think, amongst other things. For putting a gun to Topper's head and all that"
"He was drowning me. That's the reason JJ pulled a gun on him" John B scoffed at him.
"How should I know? I wasn't there, and Topper didn't mention it"
"What are the other reasons?" Pope stepped closer.
"Huh?"
"The other reasons you attacked me"
He twisted the ring again, taking a deep breath.
"I was kinda...very high. And, I don't know, man, shit gets blurry at times. I guess I just wanted to hurt someone and I used every excuse to do it. Sometimes... sometimes I just need the violence"
He didn't miss the JJ looked down, as if he understood. As if he could relate. He didn't miss the way Kiara looked at the blond either.
"Okay"
His eyebrows raised involuntary.
"What?"
"You're willing to help us with the gold to prove you're better now, you're sober. I believe you"
Rafe let out a breath, smiling.
"Are you serious? Popeâ"
The four pogues began to argue with one another, but he didn't really care. It was like a great weight was lifted of his shoulders. He was forgiven. Sarah would be so happy.
"I been thinking about the gold, actually. About how to use it legally" he told Sarah his plan already, and she approved. No that he needed her approval, but it was good to have it. "We say you found it in Tannyhill, because I don't think you found it without breaking some laws"
"Breaking and entering" JJ murmured.
"It wasn't very legal, no" Pope agreed.
Rafe didn't even blink, he had been expecting that. He was kinda curious as to where exactly did they find it 400 million in gold, but he didn't ask. Sarah could tell him all the details later.
"And that'll work?"
He shrugged.
"There's a hole in the basement of Tannyhill. It's been there for ages, we can always say the gold was there"
"How big is that hole?"
"Pretty big, Sarah still fits in there. We used to hide there when we played hide and seek"
Something crossed over Pope's face, he didn't want. Maybe he was just doing math. He was the smart one after all.
"How long it's been there?"
"Why does that matter?" JJ blinked confused.
"It could be the original hiding place of the gold. I don't think Denmark Tanny had it always where we found it"
"It was pretty unpractical" Kiara agreed.
He was kinda lost in the conversation, but answered either way. Doing better. Being better.
"According to my mother, it was already there when her father was a child" She used to tell her stories about her childhood, and her father's. She told him stories about so many things. He still missed her. Would he ever stop missing her? "Well... I'll go get some sleep"
Sarah was probably missing him.
Â
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They were already in the Bahamas when she awoke. Sun shining through the small windows of the boat. She shook Rafe, trying to wake him up.
"What?" he asked groggily, eyes opening just a little.
Sarah smiled at the sight. Face pressed against the pillow, strands of dark hair over his half-closed eyes.
"We are in the Bahamas"
That seemed to wake him completely. Rafe sat straight, rubbing his eyes. He looked at her, eyes moving up and down her body.
"I'll get dressed"
Sarah nodded and left the room. The sun burn over her skin as she walked to the Pogues on the docks.
"How are we going to your house?" Asked Kie, watching the people in the docks, slash, bazaar "You have a car or..."
"Yeah"
"Good" JJ said, he had joint between his fingers "The sooner we get this over with, the better"
"Agreed" John B was still not looking at her.
She should probably care about that. She didn't.
"No smoking, JJ" Pope forcibly took the joint and stored it in his pocket "We need you lucid"
"It's not like it makes much of a difference" she commented jokingly.
"Exactly!" JJ extended his hand towards Pope "Give it back!"
Just when Pope was about to concede, Rafe appeared from the behind them fully dressed.
"What are you doing? We need you sober, all of you"
"Oh, come on!"
"You'll have it back once we're in Kildare"
JJ argue with them to have the joint back the whole car ride to their house in the Bahamas. It was just as they left it last winter. It was not as big as Tannyhill, but it had a good size. Good security too. The guard at the door didn't even ask about Ward, thankfully, even though he probably was dying for some information. Most people were.
"Holy shit" JJ whistled when they were inside "I'm buying a house like this one with my share. The parties will be legendary"
"Wow" Pope murmured in agreement "It would probably cost a few millions"
"1.5 million" Rafe corrected "It's not that much"Â
Sarah shook her head as the four pogues stared at her brother like he just said something unbelievable. Maybe he had, though she agreed with him. Tannyhill was way more expensive than that.
"Let's go get the gold"
"Yeah, but you four stay here" her brother ordered as he started climbing up the stairs.
"Why?"
"I don't want you to learn how to open the safe" he shrugged.
"Right. Or you want to keep the gold all to yourself" she had not realized before that JJ had a cut on his lips.
"Why would you I bring you here then?"
"To kill us" Pope supplied, looking slightly alert.
"Calm down, guys" Sarah followed her brother upstairs "I'll go with him"
"And you are trustworthy?" John B asked, bitterness lacing his tone.
"I trust her"
They started arguing again, about whether she was trustworthy or not. Sarah shared a look with her brother before they entered the office. The safe was kept in Ward's former office, just like in Tannyhill. It was a tall, rectangular, iron box. Almost as tall as Rafe.Â
Sarah's heart was beating wildly in her chest. She smiled at her brother, reassuringly, as he worked to open the safe.
"Jackpot" he whispered when the door opened.
It was blinding, the sight of all the gold bars placed neatly inside the safe. So much gold. Sarah screeched happily.
"Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes!" she couldn't help but jump around the room.
"Holy shit!" her brother laughed.
It was a laugh of joy, of relief. It meant that he could breathe again, that they were saved. Without a warning, Rafe held her in his arms and spun her around. Sarah giggled happily, feeling a little dizzy, and a little sad, when he put her down. They stared at each other, panting and smiling, euphoric. And then Rafe leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers.Â
Oh.
He held her in place, his hand on the back of her neck, for a few seconds. So many seconds. So little time. She didn't mind. Then he let her go, and she stumbled backwards, wide-eyed and confused. Heat rose to her cheeks. She couldn't talk. She couldn'tâ
What just happened?
"Guys!" Kie's voice boomed around the corridor and she appeared through the door, her eyes landing on the gold "Oh, my God. It's here! All of it. Yes!"
The rest of the Pogues heard their exclamations and joined them with their owns. All happy, all celebrating. Rafe avoided her gaze, but she didn't stop searching for it. Searching for answers. She got none.
#outer banks#obx#outer banks fanfiction#obx fanfiction#rafe cameron#sarah cameron#rafe x sarah#rafe and sarah#rafe cameron fanfiction#sarah cameron fanfic#shipcest#tw: incest
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-Thank you to everyone who is still here liking, commenting and reblogging my content, even though I'm not posting much âfandom stuffâ anymore, you're still here! And I really appreciate that.. (and that makes me so happy, that as I showed in the âcomicâ, it moves me, so- thank you, really!!) :]đ
Also- a tip: there are also many other blogs that don't post fandom stuff, but when they do, they get more likes and reblogs than the original/other content.. So also give love to those people who have your original content, reblog, like, comment, because that's what they need! Recognition for your original content! And I know you won't regret it, and it won't hurt you to do what I said! In fact, you will be doing good and giving such love that many wanted and deserve.
A big kiss/p and a hug! Even for those who only like it when I post fandom stuff, I still love you so much, and I won't stop making this type of content, ok? I just want to give more voice to what I have to give as original, because that's what makes me happy and well ^^
-Melissa, Designer.
#ok- I don't even know where to start/say more qioqbsksb#but I wanted to thank you again for everything you've been doing for me. it's really nice of you to still be here with me.#even though I'm not posting something that you âlove with passionâ. you're still here. and that's really cool!#and I know I've said this a thousand times. but always know that I love you very much and that you are very special!#I'm very happy to wake up tomorrow. look at my notifications and there it is: always a comment or reblog.#and I wanted to pass on this feeling of happiness to others too.#I want them to feel loved too and to have people who also appreciate their work!#so please. it's not too much to ask. give love and affection to these blogs that have/make original content.#make sure they also have recognition. more desire to create content and keep the blog alive!#and yeah.. a big hug and I hope you have a wonderful day/nightđ#i'm mel and this is my blogâïž#my art blog#art#my art#my art <3#art mel#my art style#mel designer#melissa designer#my oc character#comicart#comic#kinda?#thanks you guys#đ
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9 & 20 ;w;
hello friend !!! :D <3
9. Best childhood moment?
if i'm being honest, i can't remember a whole lot of my childhood, and the parts i can remember aren't the most savory :'''^)
but if my teenage years count, there was this one trip i'd made in high school with the mu alpha theta club, in 2016 i believe ? it was for the mu alpha theta national convention, where a bunch of fucking NERDS go to compete in math competitions ranging from silent solo tests to team speed rounds.
in 2016 it was in st louis, and it was being hosted at washu during the summer, where we stayed in one of the dorms. my favorite moment was when my friends and i all crowded into one of the rooms and stayed there all night just talking and having fun (and uh watching hentai ......... together ............ >_>)
that was also when pokemon go came out so we all ran around campus fighting gyms and catching pokemon so !!!! it was a lot of fun and ended up becoming one of my more favorite memories of those times ;v;
20. Tell us about a memory you hold close to your heart.
oAugHhhh how am i supposed to just pick one i hold so many memories close to my heart đ
but honestly a quite recent memory comes to mind when i think of some of the ones i hold very dear to me, from may of this year.
i don't cry in front of people. i just don't, and i try not to, for a plethora of reasons that aren't really important right now lol
but i was in a voice call on discord with the friend who i'd developed feelings for, and it was that night, on that call, that i'd told him that i had feelings for him. i cried right there when i got rejected, but he stayed on call and comforted me as best he could. he just let me cry, and cry i did ! agsjfkh
i'd grown so comfortable with him that i felt safe enough to let someone else, to let him, hear.
so while it's not the sweetest memory, i hold that night very near and dear to my heart, for how much kindness and understanding he showed me, and continued to show me :'^) <3
#?#thank you so much for stopping by friend !!!#i hope you're having a lovely day or night !!!#hands you a sweet on your way out :3
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Honesty hour!
When did you fall for VV? Was it the pilot trailer, or a specific episode or moment? Or did you know about Jimmy and Sea and looked forward to seeing them together?
Just curious. đ hope you're well!
[SWIRLS HER WINE GLASS WHILE STARING INTO THE FIREPLACE] 'TWAS THE SUMMER OF 2022. I FELL IN LOVE THE WAY YOU FALL ASLEEP: SLOWLY, AND THEN ALL AT ONCE
....too much? yeah okay too much ;;;;;; but that really was pretty much how it happened!!!!! i think it was around march of last year that @trashwalkingintotrash showed me the vice versa mock trailer because we were talking about bad buddy and the topic of jimmy having his own series came up. at the time i didn't know sea at all and my interest in jimmy was pretty mild, but the concept of traveling to an alternate universe and finding yourself in someone else's body was very intriguing to me, so i made a mental note to check the show out when it aired, but then kinnporsche started and i got swept up in that and just.. kinda forgot all about vice versa ;;;;;;
the funniest thing is that i didnât even watch the first episode as it aired: i was catching up with so many shows that i was able to find the time for it only a couple of days after episode 2 was already out. i liked those, but they didn't fully win me over. then episode 3 happened. it doesnât matter how many times i repeat it, i will never be able to properly convey the impact that the nivea bathtub scene (my beloved) had on me. I MADE A WHOLE GIFSET ABOUT IT!!!!! which i know it doesnât sound like much but itâs kind of a big deal for me ;;;; IT TRULY WAS GAME CHANGING LIFE ALTERING MIND BLOWING
that was the beginning of the end, but the episode that sealed my fate once and for all was actually episode 6. im not sure what it was about it exactly, maybe the devastating tenderness of puen holding talay all night to comfort him, but suddenly my tags/posts about vice versa went from
to
and it just progressively got worse and worse from there ;;;;;;
AND THAT KIDS IS HOW I SACRIFICED MY SANITY TO VICE VERSA
#NARRATING THIS LIKE A CAUTIONARY TALE FOR CHILDREN#DON'T BECOME LIKE AUNTIE MONICA KIDS SHE TALKS TO HERSELF AND HAUNTS THE STREETS AT NIGHT WAILING ABOUT PARALLELISM ROMANTICISM SOULMATISM#anyway. i feel like i could have added more but honestly this already got too long ;;;;;;#thank you so so much for asking me this and for wanting to know how it all started!!!!!#it was so so sweet of you!!!!#hope you're doing well too and that you're having a lovely day!!!! đđđ#abstractelysium#m: ask
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đđ«đČđąđ§đ đ„đąđ đĄđđ§đąđ§đ ă»h.h.
â you're uninviting, there's no doubt about that, your resolve like unpolished diamond and tongue like broken glass. but hyunjin finds you're not half as impossible as everyone assumes you are.
đ°đšđ«đđŹă»11.1k
đ©đđąđ«đąđ§đ ă»idol!hyunjin x afab!stylist!reader (inspired by this)
đ đđ§đ«đđŹă»fluff, angst, eventual smut so MDNI, some hurt/comfort, some humor, mc is a bad bitch and hyunjin is a #simp, enemies? to lovers, sexual tension, workplace relationship, mutual pining, slow burn, nonlinear narrative, alternating perspectives
đ°đđ«đ§đąđ§đ đŹă»cunnilingus, overstimulation, creampie (practice safe sex!!), mild dacryphilia. minors and ageless blogs that interact with this post will be blocked.
đ°đđ«đ§đąđ§đ đŹ (đđšđ§đ'đ.)ă»reader vividly remembers an anxiety attack. alcohol is consumed. lots of compartmentalization and imperfect communication. latter half is just kind of sad in general tbh but what do u expect from a fic based off alex turner lyrics
đ©đ„đđČđ„đąđŹđă»farewell, neverland by txtă»like crazy by jimină»black friday by tom odellă»collide by justine skyeă»crying lightning by arctic monkeys
đđđ đ„đąđŹđ (send an ask to be added)ă»@astraystayyh ⥠@like-a-diamondinthesky ⥠@fire-08 ⥠@starsandrqindrops ⥠@txtxlz ⥠@laylasbunbunny ⥠@strayghibli ⥠@nuronhe âĄ
đ/đ§ă»call me victor frankenstein bc i've given birth to a MONSTER (except i actually love and care for mine ofc). this was easily the greatest challenge of my fanfiction-writing career and it feels like my magnum opus; i hope it's worth the wait! also a huge shoutout to sahar for being my voice of reason and my biggest supporter :â) i donât deserve u i love u
Present day. Cannes, France. 5:54 P.M.
Youâve long made peace with the fact that Hwang Hyunjin is incapable of shutting up for more than five minutes.
As it is, the man has a mouth that runs like a cross-country marathon; then throw in his uncanny aptitude for annoying you, and what do you get? A nonstop slew of terrible jokes and teasing quips, tailored according to his thorough mental manual of what gets under your skin hardest and fastest.
This is the reality you live in, presumably because you were evil in your past life, and youâve steeled yourself to see it through.
But twenty minutes have passed since you and Hyunjin ducked into the back of a cab and gave the driver the showâs addressâand, as stunning as the red rooftops and lazuline coastline of Cannes are, you find youâre more interested in Hyunjinâs peculiar silence.
You move your gaze to his face. Heâs looking outside, his chin resting upon the palm of his hand, the afternoon sunlight dusting over his chiseled features like polish on pottery; his complexion an exuberant gold against the cream-colored linen that makes up his clothing.
Maybe itâs because you opted for a simpler makeup look today, leaving the most telling contours of his face warm and bare, or maybe itâs because youâve spent the last year committing his every mannerism and expression to memory. Nevertheless, you see through his pursed lips and tight brow right away.
âNervous?âÂ
Hyunjinâs head swivels towards you with a small snap, like heâs forgotten youâre here. His lips fall open, their glossy peach color glinting with the small shift.
âNo,â he replies reflexively, but then his facade flickers. âFuck, maybe a little. Itâs just hard to believe, you know?â
You do know. It was a huge honor for both of you when Hyunjin was named the newest global ambassador of Versace. For you to be attending the brandâs pop-up show in one of the most beautiful cities in Europe, among some of the worldâs most prolific creatives, is truly incomprehensible. Even youâve been feeling antsy since you landed; you can only imagine Hyunjinâs anxiety.
You have never been good at consolation. You think your mouth is too coarse, your propensity for honesty too strong. But youâve always known just what to say when it comes to him.
âJust remember who you are.â
Hyunjin takes a few seconds to process your words, but his understanding washes over his whole body; straightens his back; hardens his gaze. You donât see this change in posture, though. Youâre too busy looking anywhere else, all of a sudden feeling quite embarrassed.
Nor do you see the private smile that disperses across Hyunjinâs lips; his eyes softening so, so marginally when they peer at your profile; his hand twitching where it rests on his knee, as if contemplating reaching for you with a mind of its own.
Thirty seconds. That is the amount of time you have left to bask in this otherworldly tranquility. And then he speaks.
âI want you to meet my parents.â
Your arm reacts before your mind can. Without having to turn your head an inch, you smack him squarely in the bicep, sending him crumpling against his door with a bark of a laugh; âplease,â he adds, and youâre biting back a smile as you hit him again, with less conviction this time.
The cab driver nearly misses an exit, too busy wondering about the peculiar pair in his backseat and the nature of your relationship. He canât tell if you hate each other or if youâre married.
One year ago. Seoul, South Korea. 8:42 A.M.
âI still canât believe youâre abandoning me.â
âFor my newborn daughter.â
âYeah, okay. I still canât believe youâre abandoning me for your newborn daughter. What does that brat have that I donât?â
âMy genes, to begin with.â
âThatâs unfair. Sheâs usingââ
An important-looking pair of women step out of the nearest elevators, the clacking of their heels ricocheting sharply off the lobby walls. Hyunjin straightens his back so quickly he thinks he pulls a muscle. He and Seojun incline their heads in perfect sync, their âgood morningâs prim and professional.
âSheâs using cheats,â Hyunjin hisses the second the women are out of earshot again, and this wrests a laugh from the older man at last.
Around one month prior, Seojun confided in Hyunjin that he and his partner were expecting their first child soon, and that he would be putting his career on indefinite hiatus to welcome her into the world.
Hyunjin had never felt so conflicted in his life. On one hand, heâd grown closer to his stylist over the last two years than heâd thought possible, and he knew it was stupid to be anything but delighted for him and his expanding family. On the other hand, it was precisely because theyâd become so close that he wanted to grab the man by the ankles and shake the decision clean out of his body. He couldnât imagine a dressing room or tour bus without him.
Today is a Saturday, but itâs also Seojunâs last day with the company. Hyunjin dragged himself to the JYP building at half past eight with much less reluctance than he let on. He wouldnât have missed it for the world.
âFourth floor,â Seojun instructs after the pair enter the elevator, and Hyunjin presses a knuckle to the according number. âThanks.â
The doors slide shut; the floor numbers tick upwards.
âWhat was her name again?â Hyunjin asks.
âY/N,â Seojun returns. âY/L/N.â
âIs she here already?â
âNo, sheâll be here at nine.â
Thereâs a small pause.Â
âHyung.â
âHm?â
âI feel like Iâm being married off to another family for political reasons.â
âGod, I canât wait to be free of your theatrics.â
At this, the two men make eye contact; exchange smiles. The elevator announces their arrival to the fourth floor, and they step through the doors.
âYouâll be in good hands,â Seojun reassures. âSheâs the best of the best. I hear sheâs basically running the industry these days. Iâm surprised she agreed to take you on.â
âIâm surprised an old fry like you knows someone like her,â Hyunjin replies, and the look Seojun gives him is so withering that he thinks he pulls a muscle again with his apologetic bow.
âYouâre not wrong, though,â Seojun concedes. âWe happened to work on the same project back when she was still a small name, and weâve kept in touch ever since. Sheâs a great kid. Ambitious, hardworking, strong as hellââ
They arrive outside their destination, and Hyunjin holds open the door to the conference room. Only to find that Seojun has stopped in his footsteps, temporarily stunned by a new realization.
She reminds me of him.
âHeâs forgotten how to walk,â the him in question whispers like heâs narrating a nature documentary, and the moment is over. âIs this what fatherhood does to a man?â
Seojun kicks Hyunjin into the room by the seat of his pants.
The minutes pass slowly. Seojun moves his eyes between the door and his phone every few seconds, visibly antsy about the imminent meeting. In the meantime, Hyunjin makes the groundbreaking discovery that these office chairs are absurdly and almost suspiciously comfortable. All it takes is a chin upon his palm and a few seconds of shut-eye, and heâs suddenly slumped over the table, snoring softly into the crook of his elbow.
At 8:57, Seojunâs phone lights up with a new notification. At 8:58, he notices that Hyunjin is asleep, and closes his hand around the crumpled receipt in his pocket. At 8:59, he scrunches said receipt into a ball and launches it in Hyunjinâs direction. It hits him squarely on the head, and the boy is nearly knocked to the floor like a bowling pin.
âFor that,â Hyunjin sputters, âIâm the godfather.â
âAbsolutely the hell not.â
Then, it is 9:00.
When the door of the conference room opens, Hyunjin is still trying to gather his wits, wondering if the bastard is leaving the makeup industry to secretly pursue a career in professional basketball. He just barely notices the unfamiliar figure who steps into his line of vision.
âThere she is,â Seojun greets warmly, rising to his feet right away. âGod, how long has it been? Two, three years now?â
Youâre not doing anything remarkable when Hyunjin sees you for the first time, simply walking across the room and bowing graciously in Seojunâs direction, but he is immediately under the vague impression that youâre cutting through space as you move, scorching the particles of air that dare obstruct your path.Â
With his head cocked slightly to the left, like a fascinated puppy, Hyunjin watches the stunning smile that forms on your lips when you take Seojunâs hand; your finger as it tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear with the elegance of rippling silk. His mind feels impossibly slow, like youâve tapped open his skull and robbed him of his ability to think.
Then, you toss Hyunjin a look over your shoulder, and heâs reminded of lightning forking towards the earth. Terrifying, volatile, beautiful.
âSomething like that,â you say, turning back to Seojun, and time starts to move again. âItâs great to see you again, Mr. Lee. Congratulations on the baby.â
âPlease, Seojun is fine,â he answers hastily. âAnd thank you. Thank you for all of this, actually. I canât tell you how excited we are to have you.âÂ
âYouâre too kindâIâm excited too.â
Upon uttering the word âwe,â Seojun delivers Hyunjin a fleeting side-eye; he takes the hint and pushes himself to his feet, feeling uncharacteristically clumsy as he moves towards you.
The second time he meets your gaze, it feels wrong, almost, for him to hold it for as long as he does. Like heâs approaching your throne with his chin held high and eyes fixed forward instead of his head sweeping the ground.
Except he swears he senses a strange warmth within the rings of your irises, and he spends every second of eye contact following, chasing it, almost craning his neck with how badly he wants to get a closer look. Until heâs as close to you as is socially acceptable for a first meeting and comes to a halt.
He ends up losing its trail, but he wonât forget that itâs there.Â
âMy client, Iâm guessing?â You say, extending your hand. âY/N. Itâs a pleasure.â
Your fingers are freezing cold where they meet his, and Hyunjin already knows that melting the permafrost that coats your flesh and guards your soul will be the tallest task of his life.
But he finds his next words accompanied by an involuntary smirk; heâs nothing, if not tenacious.
âHyunjin,â he returns. âPleasureâs all mine.â
Nine months ago. Paris, France. 6:16 P.M.
Hyunjin isnât sure whyâmaybe you forget that he can still steal glances at your reflection over your shoulder or through the gaps of your fingersâbut heâs learned over the last four weeks that youâre different, gentler, when youâre doing his makeup.
Your cold hands request instead of demand that he angle his head a certain way or suck in his cheeks. Your syllables are rounder somehow, your voice never traveling above a murmur. Even your eyes mellow out when you move in really close, your pupils dilating as you detail the final touches to the fresco youâve painted upon him.
Your expression doesnât give you away (it never does), but his hunch is that thereâs a sprinkle of doting somewhere among the intense focus. That would explain why he feels like a flower in the moments when your fingertips and gaze move so carefully over his skin, like youâre touching his petals, trying not to tear them.
Too bad you never let him daydream for long.
âClose.â
âHuh?â
âYour eyes. Close them.â
His lashes have hardly brushed his lower lids when you begin to empty what feels like an entire bottle of setting spray on him. At the moist surprise, Hyunjinâs features scrunch up around his nose and he lets out a distraught hack like an old man.
A few seconds later, the barrage stops, and he cracks open a wary eye to scope out his surroundings. You wait until he does this to give his face one last spurt.
âWitch,â Hyunjin mutters, clawing back up the vanity chair.
âThank you,â you reply, completely earnestly.
And whatever Hyunjin was going to say next suspends instantly on his tongue when you bring the pad of your thumb to the very edge of his lower lip and drag it across the soft flesh. He wonders if you know how hard he tries not to look at your mouth whenever you tend to his. He wonders if thereâs anything you donât know.
âYou smudged your lipstick already.â Thereâs a small streak of coral pink on your hand when it falls back to your side. âSee? Thatâs why we need the setting spray.â
âUh huh.â And Hyunjin spots a ghost of a smile flit across your face, gone nearly as soon as it appears. The only evidence of it ever existing is the quickened heartbeat it leaves behind within him.
âYouâre done, by the way,â you say, stepping aside. âTake a look.â
He slips out of his seat and moves closer to the vanity, peering at his reflection as curiously as if heâs never seen it before. But thatâs how heâs felt since he started working with you.
Seojun was right: you are the best that the makeup industry has to offer. Hyunjin has come to understand this for multiple reasons. Your phone screen is incessantly illuminated by new notifications and incoming calls. The other stylists heed your advice like itâs the law. Brushes and pencils move like water when itâs you maneuvering them. And then some.
He would call what you have âtalent,â but he knows itâs more than that. You show him a new version of himself every time you turn a mirror in his direction, like there are facets of him that are visible to you and you only. As much as he delights in the notion that you have such intimate knowledge of him, it should be impossible, considering youâve only known him for two months. So no, itâs not just talent that you possess. Itâs some combination of talent, hawkish perception, and raw artistry that is utterly inhumanâand sexy as fuck.
Speaking of sexy. Hyunjinâs look is relatively rudimentary tonight, the makeup light, the outfit a simple black tank top beneath a jacket and pants made of bright red velvet. But itâs the details that tie the whole thing together: the wide, loose sleeves causing the jacket to slip continually off his shoulders; the inner layer tight in all the right places. His face doesnât look half bad either, with the sultry carmine powder that fringes his eyes and the intentionally mussed state of his hair. He pushes a hand through the dark locks, regarding himself with thorough appreciation.
You appear in his periphery as you start cleaning up your work station. âYou can just take the jacket off when your sweat glands start malfunctioning, by the way. I thought youâd appreciate that detail.â
At this, his smize cracks into a laugh, the sound loud and uninhibited and uniquely yours to hear. âYou suck.â
He looks away from his reflection just in time to glimpse another of your phantom smiles, and he thinks itâs so painfully on brand that the two times itâs appeared tonight have both been from you making yourself laugh. You might be the most insufferable person heâs ever met. He might be obsessed with you anyways.
âWell?â You implore. âWhat do you think?â
âNo notes.âÂ
Itâs the answer youâre expecting. You survey him from head to toe one last time, decide that you, too, are satisfied, and slip your makeup into your bag; hike its strap over your shoulder.
âIâll see you after the show, then.â
You have an important conference call to attend before tonightâs concert, hence why Hyunjin had to come in early for hair and makeup. This is also the reason why the two of you have been the only people in the dressing room for the better part of an hour.Â
Itâs rare that he ever gets you alone, and he doesnât want it to end. Not just yet.
âI lied, actually,â he calls. âI do have notes.â
You already have one foot out the door when you hear this, and you turn around so slowly and in such disbelief that he has to fight to constrain his laughâthe concept of imperfection is truly unthinkable to you. Insufferable, like he said.
âDo tell,â you say, dropping your bag back onto the floor.
âYou have any jewelry for me?â
You chew on this for a moment. You did have a selection of necklaces prepared for tonight, but they were heavy and numerous, not exactly the best-suited for the groupâs dynamic sets. You still like them, granted, and you know Hyunjin would as well.
You articulate all of this to him, and he asks if he can take a look at them anyways. âCome here, then,â you say, the words so tantalizing when they fall from your lips that nearly trips over himself trying to obey.
You take out a flat rectangular box from your bag and set it down in front of the lightbulb-studded mirrors. Hyunjin observes quietly as you show him its contents: three thick, gold chains with varying lengths and boasting different pendants, plus a beaded bracelet and an assembly of rings of the same material. His devious plan aside, he does love the selection.
âYouâre sure you wonât be uncomfortable?â
He nods, and you pick up the longest of the three chains; turn to him expectedly. He takes this as his cue to move closer to you, except he overshoots a little, and he feels the tips of his shoes accidentally bump into the ends of yours; discerns the warmth emanating from your body against his own. He expects a withering glare, a kick in the shin, maybe, but you donât seem bothered by the proximity at all, unblinking as you bring your hands around the either side of his neck and fasten the first necklace with a soft tap. Your fingers then brush over his collarbones to adjust the pendant, and he thinks your hands would have to be numb not to perceive the frantic heartbeat threatening to burst straight out of his skin.
Entire minutes pass before Hyunjin musters the courage to actually look at you. By then, youâre already working on the third and final necklace. Itâs not a surprise that your face is mere inches away from his; heâs been watching your reflections out of the corner of his eye; he knows youâre closer to each other than youâve ever been. But there are parts of you that the mirror doesnât showâthe soft curve of your lashes, the concentrated narrow of your eyes, the shapely protrusion of your pursed lipsâand these surprise him so thoroughly that he slips and slides out of his right mind.
You are the type of beautiful thatâs been around longer than humans have, the same as that of the true blue color of forget-me-nots. And Hyunjin feels enveloped, intoxicated by you from this minuscule distance. The idea forms numbly in his head that maybe, just maybe, he was put on this earth to admire you.
In this inebriated state, he makes a venturesome decision.
When you finish centering the last pendant upon the his chest, you are about to take a step back and review the updated look, but youâre debilitated by the feeling of fingers grazing over your hipâlightly, so lightly that you mistake them for a gust of wind at first, but the contact is enough to push the small of your back against the edge of the counter. Then, both of Hyunjinâs hands reach behind you, pressing flat against the marble surface, and, just like that, he has you right where he wants you, ensnared between cold stone and hot flesh.
And so begins an equilibrium so fragile that itâll shatter if one of you so much as blinks the wrong way, your rattled breath fluttering against his lips, his eyes dark and hooded and out of focus as they survey the fine lines of your expression. It still doesnât give you away (it never does), but he finds that in this moment he just doesnât care.
âLet me take you out,â he murmurs. âOne date.â
âWhat the hell are you talking about?â You reply under your breath.
âYou know what Iâm talking about, love.â
Upon uttering that last word, he angles his head almost imperceptibly, the movement challenging, daring you to say something about it. But you donât. You merely hiss out a whetted âyouâre fucking crazy,â and thatâs his opening to drag this on a little longer; push your limits a little more.
âAbout you? Damn straight.â
At this, finally, fucking finally, there is a semblance of something in your face that isnât just your usual mildly-irritated nonchalance. Instead, he detects surprise in the whites of your eyes as you widen them; as you part your lips with a response that only comes much later.
And heâs surprised by your surprise. Surely, with your skills of observation, you wouldâve noticed long ago how his world shrinks down to only you and your gorgeous voice and your confident glare and your shitty sense of humor whenever heâs been granted the privilege of your presence.
This might be the first time heâs admitted it out loud, but he hasnât triedâhasnât been ableâto hide how he feels about you, not now, not ever. Itâs been that way since the moment the sole of your shoe met the carpet of that conference room on the fourth floor of the JYP building.
 âHwangââ You begin.
âHyung!â
At the sound of a third, new voice, your arms tense like youâre about to shove Hyunjin off of you, but he only leans in further, so that his lips almost graze your jaw and your hands have nowhere to go except the taut surface of his chest. The surprise is gone; now youâre just pissed. He can feel the heat of your furious eyes and the tremor in your hands as you form fists around the fabric of his top. But he takes his sweet time in scooping up the bracelet and rings, and only afterwards does he pull away from you and straighten to his full height.
âHey, Innie!â Hyunjin chirps, and Jeongin materializes in the doorway, looking thoroughly perturbed by the older boyâs sunny tone. âWhatâs up?âÂ
In the meantime, you turn around to snap the lid of your jewelry box shut, and it takes a singular glance in the mirror for a truly horrible realization to settle upon your shoulders. You donât think anybody would be able to tell even if you announced it outright, but you know yourself and the little nuances of your face all too well.
Youâre flustered.
You feel like a horror movie heroine breaking the fourth wall.Â
âNothing, weirdo. I was just announcing my arrival,â Jeongin says. Thank fuck you did, Hyunjin thinks to himself, completely unaware of the epiphany youâre having behind him. âChan-hyung mentioned you were here already? Why?â
âSheâs in high demand.â Hyunjin points out the she in question by jutting his chin in your direction. âThe usual.â
âAh.â
Jeongin inclines his head towards you in polite greeting. You return his hello, but your expression starts to feel tight when his eyes dart between the strange smile on Hyunjinâs face and your awkward stance (still glued to the edge of the counter) as he drops his duffel by the couch. The boy isnât stupid, unlike his older counterpart.
âI saw a vending machine on my way here,â Jeongin says, turning to leave the room again. âYou want anything, hyung? Noona?â
âIâm okay, thank you,â you say.
âIâll have whatever you have,â Hyunjin says.
Jeongin flashes a thumbs-up and dips out of the room, perhaps a little more hastily than he intends to come across. And then there are two. Again.
You wait until you canât hear his footsteps anymore, and then you turn to glower at Hyunjin so intensely that he thinks youâre about to place a curse on his whole bloodline.
Then, your phone starts vibrating, and he knows heâll live to see another day.
âYou still owe me an answer,â Hyunjin calls as you turn around and leave the room.
âDonât hold your breath,â you reply.
One day, Iâll break her, is the predominant thought that resides in Hyunjinâs head as he slips on the remaining jewelry; watches your figure disappear around a corner. One day, Iâll break his face, is the predominant thought that resides in yours as you stalk away. Thatâs the two of you, in a nutshell.
Six months ago. Osaka, Japan. 3:03 P.M.
When you walk into the dressing room, you find Haeun hunched over an overflowing photo album with her hands forming fists in her hair, muttering to nobody in particular, âI have no idea what the fuck Iâm doing.â
Thereâs an amused look in your eye as you set your bag down by Hyunjinâs empty vanity chair. She hasnât noticed your presence yet; approximately three hallways down, the members are rehearsing for tonightâs performance on the main stage of the Kyocera Dome, and the music is so loud that you think you actually saw the walls vibrating while you were in the hallway moments ago.
You rise to your tiptoes and encroach upon her, waiting until sheâs within reach to tickle the back of her neck. She nearly flies out of her seat with a shriek that can be heard over the heavy bass.
âNever gets old.â You hand her the photo album that went soaring also, and Haeun snatches it back with an affronted flourish.
âI canât remember the last time you said hi to me normally, unnie.â
âMe neither, now that you mention it.â
Haeun and Han are your favorite stylist-idol duo in the world because theyâre so eerily similarâand itâs adorable. They both illuminate every room they walk into; they both have grins too big for their faces, laughs too loud for their lungs. You always regret leaving your sunglasses at home when you catch sight of the effulgent pair.
But today you cannot detect the usual radiance in Haeunâs voice, nor so much as a hint of her easy grin. Then again, thatâs another quality that she and her client share; theyâre both well acquainted with the burdens that come with unwavering passion.
Every stylist has their own modus operandi. Haeunâs is a scrapbook of images that she cuts out and saves from catalogs, advertisements, newspapers, et cetera. Youâve seen it many times before, but never in such a state: messy handwriting stuffing the margins to their very brims, numbers and symbols like clusters of rainclouds over a sea of different outfits, arrows and circles and squares highlighting pant cuffs and cascade collars and dangling earrings. Telltale signs that Haeun hasnât a clue as to what Han will be wearing tonight.
You gnaw on your lower lip, deliberating your next move. You end up placing a firm hand against the albumâs cover and pushing it closed.
âCome with me,â you say. âWeâre gonna try a new approach.â
Haeun opens her mouth to protest, but unfortunately you have an extensive track record of being right.
âWhat do you have in mind?â She sighs instead.
âYouâll see.â
With that, you stand up, tuck a small towel under your arm, and angle your head in the direction of the music.
The two of you make your way through the labyrinth of hallways that comprise the venueâs backstage. Eventually, the color of the floor changes from speckled white to solid black, and you step onto the part of the stage that is concealed from the audience by drawn curtains and heavy equipment. You say a quick hello to the groupâs manager as you dip past him, and eventually reach the edge of the curtains, where you and Haeun have a good view of the eight members as they run through their setlist for tonightâs concert.
Haeun settles into the spot beside you, still confused as she follows your gaze.Â
âLet me ask you this,â you say, just audible over the din. âCan you style a performer if you donât know how he performs?â
And understanding seeps over her features like poured tea.
âI want you to watch him,â you continue. âTell me how he performs.â
Hanâs part begins, as if on cue. His voice rings out through the empty stadium as he ducks to the front of the formation, a microphone held loosely to his lips, his face taut with focus. Haeun stares at him for some time, silently trying to fathom her observations, but she sees you shaking your head in the corner of her eye.
âDonât think, Haeun. Just speak.â
She blows out a deep breath before obliging. âItâs hard to picture Han doing anything but laughing or making other people laugh, heâs so goofy and lighthearted most of the time. But heâs like a different person on stage. Heâs so intense, itâs almost intimidating. Not intimidating in a douchey way, thoughâyou just get the impression that heâs very confident in himself and his music.
You donât say another word, but donât need to. Sheâs hit her stride.
âHis voice and enunciation are so clear. Itâs crazy how he sounds exactly like the studio recording. Plus, his delivery feels genuine; heâs not just reciting lyrics, but speaking straight from his heart.
âAnd this is gonna sound bad, but I didnât know Han could dance. Like, yeah, I knew that he could dance, but not like this. His movements are so sharp that I feel like my attention is beingââ
Right there.
She cuts herself off, reaching the same conclusion.
âItâs his turn to talk, and he wants you to cling to his every word," Haeun articulates slowly. "Heâs demanding your attention. He needs you to listen. Thatâs how he performs.â
A satisfied smile bolts across your face like lightning. âCouldnât have said it better myself.â
Haeun pictures her scrapbook again, and there are now only a few articles of clothing and accessories that fit the framework youâve helped her forge. Sheâs almost dizzy with disbelief, tearing her eyes from Han to look at you instead.
âYouâre brilliant, you know that?â
âI do, but I appreciate the reminder.â
She canât help but giggle. Itâs a you answer if sheâs ever heard one. âDo you do that with all of your clients?â
Haeun asks the question arbitrarily, without thinking. But you respond in a way that she doesnât think sheâs ever witnessed before, and sheâs momentarily baffled by the sight: you hesitate.
As the songâs final chorus approaches, Hyunjin is the one folding himself into the center of the eight-person throng. You can only see his back from this angle, but even then itâs palpable how expertly and effortlessly he molds his body to the modulations of the music; how much fervor and feeling he expresses with every jerk of his spine and flex of his hands.
Within a few short seconds, innumerable descriptors and sensations skim the surface of your mindâbut one word knocks the rest clean out of the water, the way it always does when you watch Hwang Hyunjin perform.
Artistry.
âNo,â you reply. âNot all of them.â
And where better to find inspiration than inspiration himself?
Haeun furrows a brow, understandably puzzled by this response, but you donât elaborate. Partially because you feel like being coy, but mostly because you know that any explanation you offer will sound like a confession.
The song ends, leaving your ears ringing with the abrupt absence of sound. The members hold their poses with heaving shoulders, staring out into the empty stands until the stage managerâs voice comes through the monitors.
âAnd thatâs a wrap! Weâre all set for tonight. Good work, everyone.â
There is a ripple of movement around the stage as the boys relax. Jeongin jogs over to Minho, hoping to review a particularly challenging dance break; the manager asks Chan if he has a second to discuss travel logistics; Seungmin plops onto the edge of the stage and downs the rest of his water; Hyunjin beelines toward you the second he sees you, because of course he does.
You get a good look at him as he skips closer. Stray blonde locks plastered against his damp skin, tank top dyed several shades darker by the perspiration rolling down his neck, the muscles of his arms actually rippling as he swings them around stupidly, a shit-eating smile plastered across his stunning face.
Youâre annoyed before he says a word.
âI didnât know they were letting fans backstage now,â he hums happily. âWant an autograph, gorgeous?â
âPut a sock in it.â You whisk the towel youâve been holding in his direction. âWet freak.â
But he catches and tosses it over his shoulder straightaway, and your heart sinks to your fucking ankle. Youâve seen this movie before. You know how it ends.
âNo.â You take a shaky step back. âNo, nope, donât even think aboutââ
The next thing you know, Hyunjin is lunging towards you and winding his arms around your waist, nearly sweeping you clean off your feet as he pulls you into his sweaty embrace. To your complete dismay, your face presses flat against the clammy plane of his chest. âCall me a wet freak again, go on,â he manages to say through his laughter.Â
In response, one of your hands wriggles free of its slippery prison and snatches the cuff of Hyunjinâs ear with impressive accuracy. He yelps and loosens his hold on you, but doesnât relent completely, not even when he catches sight of the murderous expression on your face and cackles so forcefully his whole head is thrown back.
You tighten your grip. âWet,â you seethe, âfreak.â
âOwâokay, donât make it hot, whatâs wrong with you?â
âWhaâwhatâs wrong with YOU?!â
As the two of you dissolve into your fatuous arguing, Haeun is no longer sure that sheâs still standing here. Sheâs not even sure if sheâs in her right mind anymore. She thinks she might be hallucinating the way everything about Hyunjin softens next to you, or the way your biting tone only seems to nibble when itâs him on the receiving end.
âPsst. Weâve been placing bets on them. You want in?â
Han suddenly materializes next to Haeun, and she would have been jumpscared into a different dimension if she wasnât so fixated upon the bizarre occurrence before her.
But what if sheâs not hallucinating?
No, not all of them, youâd said, like you were disclosing a forbidden secret.
âYes,â she says, and Han beams. âAbsolutely.â
Three months ago. Seoul, South Korea. 2:26 A.M.
On a tranquil Saturday night, youâre sitting at your desk, your knees tucked to your chest, the newest episode of your drama playing quietly on your laptop, a half-empty glass of rosĂ© and open sketchbook laid before you. This is your happy placeâa safe haven that the trials and tribulations of the real world canât reach. But you think youâve really gone and lost your mind when you find yourself thinking about your job.
Well, not your job, exactly. More like the man who makes your job feel fucking Sisyphean.
You know your way around fabric and foundation better than anyone, but you have never struggled with anything as much as you have trying to navigate Hyunjin. You show up to work every day ready to just put some makeup on the man; instead, you wind up stumbling around the potholes of his dimples and the hills of the veins that run over his forearms and hands like a hopeless drunkard. Scouring the creases of his smile and the oscillations of his voice like theyâre topographical maps. Mentally replaying your interactions with him time and time again like youâre monitoring security footage, trying to detect illicit activity in every casual touch he leaves on your shoulder or waist; every babe or gorgeous he throws your way, seemingly without a second thought.
Youâve been trying to understand him and his intentions for seven months now, and your efforts have yielded no fruit whatsoever, save for a few theories that you feel insane for even humoring.
You down the rest of the blush-colored liquid, and as you set down your empty glass you notice your fingers itch with a familiar urge. The pen that youâve been twirling over your knuckles stills, then swivels; its tip hovers over the last free corner of the sheet of cartridge paper below you. And then it presses upon the surface and starts to move, as naturally as if on its own.
When you were little, you came across a childrenâs book that you no longer remember the name of, about a little girl with a magical pen that brought her every drawing to life. You decided then that you would one day be that girl.
At some point, the subjects of your incessant sketching became almost exclusively runway models and makeup advertisements. You cemented that you wanted to work in fashion as early as your high school graduation, and by then you already possessed the conviction and charisma of the industryâs most experienced members. Your portfolio was stellar; your personality prophesied of wild success. So your career took off, propelled by the neverending positions and projects that various companies continually laid before your feet.
You stand and pad to your kitchen to refill your glass, only to bring the entire bottle of wine back to your room instead. With one hand, you flick the cap off and lift the whole thing to your lips; with the other, you seize your pen again, not wanting to lose momentum.
For the year or so after you joined the industry, you basked in your idyllic prosperity. Even the doodles you scrawled on random napkins during banal business lunches would appear on some of the worldâs most renowned faces the next week. You had indubitably become the little girl from your story; made a career out of giving your imagination tangible form. And what a fruitful career it was going to be.
If only you knew how it would strengthen you in ways you never wanted.
The first time someone called you cold, it took you a while to realize that they were talking about you. The phrase was said so casually and lightheartedly that it sounded at first like a piece of unimportant small talk. But the whisper of cold bitch was then followed by a bout of stifled laughter and what was undoubtedly your name. Your heart stopped along with your footsteps, and you looked towards the source: two interns whose names you had yet to learn, while yours was already in their mouths.
You felt nothing until you were three stops away from your apartment, and then the bottom of the subway gave out beneath you and suddenly you were feeling everything. Only confusion, hurt, and rage at first, but then the other emotions that youâd been smothering tirelessly for who-knows-how-long tore free of their cerebral shackles too, and together they formed an amalgamation of anxiety that closed up your throat within seconds.Â
As your pen studs details into a shapely jawline, you remember how youâd shoved your way off the subway and made a mad dash into the night air. You remember how you collapsed against a utility pole in an unfamiliar neighborhood, how your knuckles paled around the ashen wood, how your tears tumbled over your lips and salted your tongue. You remember wanting to go home so badly that you thought your ribcage would cave in on itself with the weight of it. You remember begging for air, for you.
By the time the oxygen had returned to your lungs, the streets were empty save for you, crouched on the curb, your face buried in your arms, spent, shattered, and alone. You were only nineteen at the time.
You are now twenty-two, and the word âcoldâ has become a regular guest in the lodgings of your heart. You never invite it over, but youâre no longer surprised to find it at your door. Itâs a thief, swiping pieces of you when it thinks youâre not lookingâa fragment above the fireplace, a scrap from the cracks between the couchâand you know whenever youâre being robbed, know that you lose parts of yourself upon its every visit. But better that than acknowledging what you lose.
You allow it to walk away with full pockets every time.
Hyunjin does not.
âThree words to describe yourself. Go,â he said a few days ago, the two of you heading back to the tour bus after a filming session.Â
You were so used to these irrational inquiries of his that you didnât bother trying to dodge this one. âYou first.â
âSmart, sexy, suave,â he said immediately, but burst into a sheepish laugh at the sight of your weary glare. âFine, fine, let me think. Ambitious, for one. Introspective, definitelyâmaybe overly so. And artistic. Iâd like to think so, at least. Satisfied?â
The most creative person you knew doubting his own ingenuity was absurd to you, but you nodded begrudgingly. It was a good answer, for the most part.
âNow you.â
Honestly, the thief had surfaced the moment you heard the question, but you werenât sure if you wanted to inform Hyunjin of its existence. Not because you didnât trust himâyou did, more than you had anyone in yearsâbut because you didnât know what youâd do with yourself if he agreed. You werenât sure your heart would be able to take it.
When you met the boyâs gaze, though, the carob brown of his eyes was so curious and so comforting that you suspected that was never a possibility.
âCold,â you mumbled. âIâve been called cold before.â
There was a pregnant pause. You found yourself holding your breath. And thenâ
âThatâs a joke, right?â
Hyunjin began to count off his fingers.
âMean. So mean. Impossibly, infuriatingly confident. Talented, stubborn, strong. Funny, sometimes, I guess, though Iâd rather you hit me with a metal pipe than admit that ever again.â
At this, you caved; a laugh erupted from your lips, leaving a genuine smile in its wake.
âDetermined. Eloquent. Bossy. Some kind of evil, twisted genius. Contemplative, caring, compassionate. Fearless,â he went on. âYou get my point. Youâre a lot of things, Y/N, but cold isnât oneââ
He was about to say something mind-numbingly stupid. You could sense it in the air.
ââand not just because youâre hot.â
You smacked his bicep, the smile on your face now an uninhibited, helpless grin. And as he vanished into a fit of high-pitched laughter, you thought you sensed him crack open your door and slip your missing artifacts back to their rightful places.
Hyunjin began to climb into the bus, and you caught the cuff of his sleeve, your feet still planted on the pavement.
âThank you,â you said.
The tremors of his fond chuckle traveled to your very core.
âIdiot,â he sighed softly.
Idiot, you write, and the drawings are complete.Â
When you stand up, the bottle is mostly goneâand so are you. You splash some water on your face in lieu of your skincare routine and prod the inside of your mouth a few times using a dry toothbrush, and then you dive beneath your duvet and are dead asleep in minutes. Your slumber is interrupted only by dreams of a world where your theories about Hyunjin arenât just theories.
If youâd had even one mouthful less of rosĂ©, you mightâve remembered that you picked up your phone and opened your most recent conversation somewhere between steps two and three.
[3:10 A.M.] To: Hwang Hyunjin (Stray Kids, JYP) Audio Message.wav
Hi. Iâm drunk and Iâm going to regret this tomorrow. But thatâs tomorrowâs business. Thereâs something I need to tell you tonight.
After I moved to Seoul, I used to get these bouts of homesickness. Not in a standard âI wanna go homeâ kind of way, but in a way that felt like a hole had opened up in the ground below me. I was always ready for it to swallow me alive. I wouldâve been happy for it to.
But I havenât felt that way since I met you. I realized this not too long ago, and it threw me for a fucking loop. Iâve never felt seen the way you see me. Iâve never been known the way you know me. Every time I look at you or hear your voice, it feels so much like returning home that I donât have to dream of it anymore.
You called me fearless the other day, but youâre wrong. Iâm terrified. Iâm terrified that history is going to repeat itself, that another home will slip through the cracks between my fingers and there will be nothing I can do to stop it. And thatâs why Iâm so hesitant towards you, towards whatever this is, because I donât want to go through that ever again.
So the thing I need to tell you is that I care about you. I care so much that Iâm scared speaking it into existence will make it real and vulnerable to all the worst parts of the world. But itâs not speaking it into existence if Iâm drunk, right? Maybe I have no idea what Iâm talking about. Maybe youâll never even hear this. So it doesnât count. Thatâs how that works, surely.
Sorry if this was totally nonsensical. And sorry that Iâm so bad at feelings. You must think Iâm impossible, and I donât blame you.
Good night, Hyunjin. Thank you, again.
One month ago. Los Angeles, United States. 12:37 A.M.
When Hyunjin steps out of the hotelâs tall glass double doors, heâs wearing a teatree facemask, and his bags are draped over the crooks of his elbows like heâs an upper-echelon socialite on his way back from a lavish shopping spree. And then he sees you standing next to the curb, and the situation dawns on him in bits and pieces.
Youâre the only one here. The vans that were supposed to take you to the airport are nowhere to be seen. Boarding begins in four minutes.
A soft flinch crimps his features. Oops.
âTomorrow night,â youâre saying into your receiver, but your attention is on him only, your penetrative gaze putting the dead in deadpan. âThe absolute earliest. Youâre sure?â
When you finish listening to the managerâs response, you heave a sigh that sags your shoulders and end the call with a jab that shouldâve splintered your screen protector.
Then, you start walking towards him.
âHi,â Hyunjin says, his eyes pleading for mercy. âYou are so talented and beautiful. I donât tell you that often enough, do I?â
He expects you to grab him by the cuff of his ear again, to throw him a retort thatâs twice as mean as it is witty, something along those lines. But you merely push your suitcase in his direction, and it is then when he notices that your face is hard enough to chip enamel; that your eyes are eerily, entirely empty. The tendril of warmth thatâs always dancing among the subtleties of your expressions, that heâs always pursuing to the very borders of his dreamscapes, is nowhere to be seen.
A shiver travels down Hyunjinâs spine as he curls his fingers around the plastic handle.
Somethingâs not right.
âWeâre gonna have to stay here another day,â you say. âCan you check us in? I have some calls to make.â
âUs?â Hyunjin repeats.
âJunghan could only reserve one room,â you reply, your phone already glued back to your ear. âThe hotel is fully booked for the next few months.â
With that, youâre already preoccupied with the next thing, turning to the side to reschedule a meeting. But Hyunjin can only stare blankly at your profile, trying and failing to grasp that heâs going to spend a night with the subject of his every daydream. Though you might be leaning more towards the nightmare end of the spectrum at the moment, considering the way your head snaps back in his direction like a woman possessed.
Go, you mouth, and he obliges.
A few minutes later, Hyunjin is in the elevator by himself. He speculates itâs an ingenious, intentional choice that the lights are turned off, so that whoeverâs inside can watch the psychedelic lights of Los Angeles sprawl further and wider the higher they go. But he canât think of anything except for the subzero nothingness where your irises shouldâve been.
Hyunjinâs initial guess was that he crossed a line with this missed plane, but the more he thinks about it the clearer it becomes that this isnât an isolated issue. Itâs the culmination of something bigger. Something continuous.
You have become as familiar to him as the lines of his eyes or the ridges of his knuckles. Heâs learned where to look for your feelings when he canât find them in your face; studied your words and the undertones of your voice like theyâre verses of scripture. Yet, it was around two months ago when Hyunjin looked at your side profile and couldnât recognize you. Heâd blinked, startled, and then youâd asked why he was looking at you so strangely, and everything returned to normal. He wrote it off as a side effect of sleep deprivation and paid it no more mind that day.
Except it happened again a few days later; again, not too long after, and Hyunjin began to suspect that he was losing his mind. You didnât seem all that differentâa bit more taciturn than usual, maybe, but youâd been busier than usual, too, your workspace always full of empty coffee cups by the end of the day, the pages of your planner more colorful and crammed than ever. The minor variances never struck him as a reason for worry.
âStupid,â Hyunjin whispers bitterly.
He replays your interaction one more time. You, shoving your suitcase against his palm, telling him to go check in. Him, fastening his hand around the handle, sensing the bottomless void within you, feeling like heâd been dismissed from before your throne.
As he steps off the elevator and walks towards your designated room, he doesnât understand how or whyâbut he canât shake the feeling that heâs failed you.
Nearly an hour passes. The room only has one bed, so Hyunjin turns off the lights, folds himself onto the armchair by the floor-to-ceiling window, drapes a complimentary robe over his shoulders, and tries to sleep. He doesnât know why he even tries. Heâs exhausted, but he knows damn well thereâs no hope of him getting any rest until he has you in his proximity again.
He doesnât look at the door when he finally hears it open, but the knot of tension in his chest comes undone as soon as your silhouette appears in the hallway. He takes out his first real breath since leaving you at the hotelâs entrance.
You hear the sound it makes. You fall still.
âHyunjin?â
His heart physically aches at how tired you sound. âYeah?â
âOh, youâre awake,â you answer. âMove to the bed. Youâre not sleeping on that thing.â
He remains where he is, his chin resting on the side of his fist, his eyes glued to the flickering panorama of neon lights below him. You crouch to unzip something, and thereâs a heavy thud of metal meeting cloth, presumably your laptop being tossed onto the bedâs mattress.
âHello? Did youââ
âIs everything okay?â
A short pause follows his interruption.
âI still have a few emails to write, but everythingâs been rescheduled, so as long as you donât miss tomorrowâs flight, too, we should beââ
The robe slides off his lap as he pushes himself to his feet. âThatâs not what I mean.â
The only source of light in the room is the lone light above the entrance, but itâs enough for him to see your face and the surprise etched upon it. You open your mouth, utter one syllable, and stop yourself immediately after, stunned into silence by the sobriety in Hyunjinâs expression.
âEnlighten me, then,â you say finally.
âYou really donât know?â
âWhat is there to know? That you missed a flight and pissed me the fuck off? Trust me, Iâm aware.â
âNo, thatâs notââ
âSo what are you talking about, then? Why are you talking in riddles? Fuck, what is it that you want from me?â
Thereâs real frustration in your voice, and itâs the first time youâve shown him any emotion in pure, unadulterated form. With this, Hyunjin understands that he was right; this conversation is heading towards a culmination of some kind, and so are you, with the devastating force of a natural phenomenon.
He wonders if youâre prepared to destroy yourself, too.
âI know how you are around me,â you whisper. âYouâre always acting like youâre trying to unearth something, and I figure this âsomethingâ must be wonderful, because you look at me like Iâm made of stars; you speak to me like youâre serenading a lover. But I am constantly, ceaselessly haunted by the possibility that this âsomethingâ doesnât exist, that youâre looking for the wrong thing in the wrong person.Â
âI know itâs selfish to ask for anything more than what youâve already given meâyouâre so kind, Hyunjin, and youâve been nothing but since the day we met. But grant me one more wish, even if it is the last time you ever do.
âTell me what you see in me,â you plead. âOtherwise, I will spend the rest of my life mourning the months of yours that you wasted on me.â
With that, it occurs to Hyunjin, falls upon and cracks open his mind like a piece of firewood, that you have never been aware ofânever asked forâthe throne you sit upon.
For an indeterminate amount of time, the two of you stay there, standing in silence on opposite sides of your dark hotel room. You havenât felt anything like this in a long time, your chest heaving with your heavy breaths, your vision muddied by both the lack of light and the desperation searing through your windpipe.Â
When Hyunjin finally begins to speak, his words wrest the oxygen from your lungs.
âAfter you moved to Seoul, you used to get these bouts of homesickness.â
Your mind careens; your heart reels.Â
âThey came in a way that felt like a hole had opened up in the ground below you.â He takes a tentative step towards you. âYou thought it was going to swallow you alive. You wouldâve been happy for it to.â
You never got to listen to your voice note. You were blacked out when you recorded it and horrified when you discovered it in your chat logs the next morning; the wretched thing was unsent so quickly that you couldnât check for a read receipt.
But thereâs not a doubt in your mind that these are your words falling from Hyunjinâs lips.
âYou havenât felt that way since you met me, though.â He is only a few feet away from you now, and getting closer still. âYouâve never felt seen the way I see you. Youâve never been known the way I know you.â
God, you said that? Did you propose to him too?
âYouâre terrified that another home will slip through the cracks between your fingers and there will be nothing you can do to stop it.â Hyunjin flattens his left hand upon the drywall next to your ear; pushes you back ever-so-gently against the hard surface. âI must think youâre impossible.â
And he brings his face so, so close to yours; looks at you with so much adoration, so much tenderness, that you feel the final bulwark around your heart fractureâ
âI donât,â Hyunjin breathes, cradling your cheek, âbecause youâre not. And I want to prove it to you, even if it takes me the rest of my life. Thatâs what I see in you.â
âand crumble.
You form fists in the lining of his hoodie. Hyunjinâs hand tightens where it lays over the curve of your jaw.
When you crash your lips upon his, he tastes the metallic sheen of electricity and the salt of tearwater both; he witnesses crying lightning, for the first time in human history.
Present day. Cannes, France. 9:15 P.M.
Hyunjin never thinks when he fucks you.Â
One part of it is that he physically canât; his cognitive facilities shut down when he has you quivering beneath him, like his desire to pleasure you is too overwhelming for his mind to bear. The other part is that he doesnât want to. Heâs afraid that the voices of cynicism and trepidation that plague his mind every waking moment will taint the actualization of his wildest dreams.
Lucky for him, you manage to erase his mind on a daily basis with only one accidental touch or an apparition of a smile, so he doesnât stand a chance whenever you let him between your legs.
âTrust me?â He whispers, imprinting the words upon the inside of your thigh.
âMore than anyone,â you breathe, and just this has him tenting against his satin slacks.
Hyunjin used to see you scolding managers or moving racks twice your weight and think that was you in your elementâtonight, he learned otherwise. You were so confident that even just the way you puffed your chest out prompted heads to turn and low voices to ask for your name; so charming that even by the end of your self-introduction you had every guest you spoke to eating out the palm of your hand.Â
Eating out your pussy, though, is Hyunjinâs privilege alone.
He wraps his fingers around the hem of your dress and pushes it upwards, creating a halo of red fabric around your midriff; slides your panties off your legs and tosses them over his shoulder. All obstacles out of the way, Hyunjin winds his arms around your thighs and pins your hips to the mattress, slotting himself between your knees as they fall apart. Your ankles fold over the top of his head, and youâre about to ask if heâs okay like this, but then you feel the hot muscle of his tongue trace over your dripping foldsâand every word of every language youâve ever known is dispelled from your brain and your mouth in the form of a stuttered, euphoric moan.
He teases you first, drags his mouth over you so that heâs lapped up all of your slick, and just when you feel your patience thinning he pulls you apart with reverent hands and begins to suckle on your clit, as attentive to your every solicitation as always. You arch your back so high off the bed that your ankles knock Hyunjinâs head down a few inches, but the new angle is even better; grants him access to more of you.
He reinforces his grip around you, presses his torso right up against the side of the mattress, and gorges: sluices your labia until youâre spilling from his chin onto the sheets; flicks against your bundle of nerves until itâs pulsating and swollen on his mouth; fucks his tongue against your favorite spot until youâre curling your toes, seeing the whole solar system.Â
âComing,â you blabber after some time. Tell me something I donât know, he thinks to himself. âComing, Hyune. Iâmâfuckââ
Hyunjin is aware of the way you clench so hard around nothing that your pelvis hurts. He is aware of the way youâre so dilapidated from pleasure that youâre genuinely struggling to breathe. He doesnât care. He wants to get the cadences of your climax tattooed into the gray matter of his brain, and there canât be rests in the sheet music, can there?
He presses a hand flat on your stomach in preparation for your bodyâs protest, then returns his face to its place between your thighs; starts to leave kitten licks around the edges of your puffy folds before you can finish riding out your high. You press your tongue against the back of your front teeth, emitting a pained hiss as you draw a sharp breath, tears stinging at your eyes.
âSon of a bitchââ
âTrust me?â He asks again, his voice vibrating against your sore cunt, and your complaints quiet into whimpers as you bring a hand over your quivering mouth, and nod.Â
At least Hyunjin bridles his thirst the second time he eats your pussy open, his lips smacking openly and slowly over your every inch except the one that would be truly unbearable for you right now. Heâs so rough and so fucking careful at once like he canât decide between obliterating and worshipping your cunt.
Heâll end up doing both.
Within a few minutes, your legs have gone slack on either side of Hyunjin once again, and another coil has begun to tighten behind your bellybutton, equal parts pain and pleasureâbut he knows your pussy just as well as he does your person by now, and itâs not long before the former is compounding with the latter.
Round two has a faster ascent and a steeper drop. He finds your spot again with the precision and ease of a trained marksman and fixates upon it like a man starved. It has your cries devolving to incoherent profanities and, to his unfettered delight, your foot actually shaking, your heel tapping against the back of his neck every time it comes down.
As if referencing a metronome, Hyunjin matches the rhythm of his tongue to your accelerando. Only when your leg is nearly convulsing does he wrap his lips back around your clit; slide two fingers into the place he leaves empty and pumps them into you until you are liquifying, igniting around him, your mewls lamenting the second orgasm he plucks from your core.
After your body has stilled, Hyunjin lifts his head, his face drenched in perspiration and saliva and you. His eyes travel over the slopes of your arms and the hills of your breasts, over the tears streaming from your eyes and staining the pillow you lie on. It is this last bit that has him shrugging off his shirt and undoing his dress pants with one hand, palming his throbbing cock with the other.
He clambers over you, and the kiss that follows is filthy, your mouth falling apart when he rolls your nipples between his fingers, strands of spit suspending between your tongues before dripping down onto your collarbone. You can sense what he wants in his craving lips, his pleading tongueâand you know he wonât ask for it. Heâs tested you enough tonight; heâd rather your comfort than his pleasure.
But you guide his leaking head to your entrance, returning his stupefied look with a watery smile.
âLove me?â You ask this time, for the first time.
There is not even a nanosecond of hesitation when he answers, âwith everything in me.â
He comes inside you the moment he bottoms out, your name leaving his lips in breathless, desperate repetition like a broken prayer as he topples off the same cliff heâd dropped you from moments ago. You curl a hand in his hair as he stutters against you, bring your lips flush against his ear, and whisper that you love him tooâand the sight of you beneath him blurs he also starts to tear up.
This is the reality Hyunjin lives in, presumably because he was a saint in his past life, and it would be his utmost pleasure to see it through.
Two years later. Milan, Italy. 11:28 A.M.
For the last half hour, a ray of sunlight has repeatedly struck the diamond that sits between the second and third knuckle of your ring finger, and the Vogue journalist on the other side of your desk thinks he is slowly losing his vision. But when he asks his final question, your hand comes to a much-appreciated stop, the fountain pen youâve been twirling around clattering to your tabletop.
âWhere do you find your inspiration?âÂ
As the journalist blinks the phosphenes from his eyes, he finally manages to get a good look at the face of Versaceâs newest designer, and he detects something ineffable and warm in your expression.
âMy inspiration, hm?â You fall silent for a short time, thinking. âIf you asked me this at the start of my career, Iâd have said âpeople.â Their postures, their expressions, their wardrobes. I knew I was a goner when I watched a fashion show for the first time and noticed how the modelsâ attire helped them harness their innate power and graceâI wanted to orchestrate that kind of symbiosis, too. In that aspect, nothing has changed, actually. I still find wonder in human beings, and not just the ones on the runway. I think it would be difficult not to, donât you?
âSome time ago, a good friend of mine was having trouble with an outfit for her client. She asked me a similar question, and only then did I realize that it was no longer just people that inspired me most, but a singular person. I had always been skeptical of the idea of a âmuseâ until I met him. But I could only spend so long denying how he ventured closer to my soul than anything ever had, how he knew me and saw me like nobody ever could. He understood my art. He was my art, soââ
Your eyes dart over your ring, and the journalist wouldâve flinched out of habit if he wasnât so mesmerized by your eloquence.
ââwhere better to find inspiration than inspiration himself?â
A few seconds elapse, and then you clear your throat and straighten your back, returning to your office from your trip down memory lane.Â
âThatâs the long answer, anyways. The short answer would be my fiancĂ©.â
The journalist laughs, and he doubts youâll give him this next piece of informationâbut heâll be damned if he doesnât try.
âAnd who would that be?â
Heâs right. You donât answer the question. But you do flash him an enigmatic smile, and for some reason it reminds him of lightning.
đ„đąđ€đđ đđĄđąđŹ đ°đšđ«đ€? please consider reblogging, commenting, or sending me an ask to let me know; or, read my other works here. thanks so much for the support âĄ
© đđšđ«đ„đąđ± (est. 090323) · all works are pieces of original writing and all characters and relationships are purely fictional. please do not repost or reuse for any reason.
#omg hi thank you so much for reading and for leaving me such kind comments!! i'm so happy to hear that you enjoyed#and i appreciate that u appreciated that line hehe. i liked it a lot as well#hope you're having a lovely day/night minaa! i was v excited to see ur user in my notifs :')#comments <3#*w: crying lightning
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I LOVE YOU HI /P
HELLO :)
I love you too! (Also /p!) You're a wonderful person and I have quite a few snippets of osmosis'd memories of how much the hosts (Host and Rend) love you too (also /p x2 haha)
I'm very excited to learn how to draw by studying your art :) and I'm glad the things I write bring you joy! You deserve joy, and you deserve to know how absolutely breathtaking and awe-inspiring your art is :)
#unrelated alter#unaffiliated alter#it's one of the two I'm sure. I could have checked but I didn't haha#you're very cool and I like you very much :) /p#I hope you have a lovely day/night/evening???#I hope you have a lovely next 24 hours#there that works hahaha#oh I have to go back and tag your art eith our /favs tag so I can find it again in the future :3#thank you for existing!
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PR nightmare | oscar piastri
paring: oscar piastri x singer!reader
summary: y/n is considered a pr nightmare. letâs watch her get into her first relationship.
notes: yet another repost from my old account, i tired to make it exactly the same, enjoy!
â y/n has posted new pictures!
liked by mclaren, f1, yourbrother, and 737,938 others!
yoursername: my manger told me to tell you guys that the illuminati is NOT real and i was just joshing around !! đđđđ
view comments below!
user1: ugh this is SO BELIEVABLE
user2: | WAS WAITING FOR THIS POST
user3: yeah let's all ignore the "i wrote songs about an f1 driver!!!!"
user4: the pictures đ
yourmomsuser: pic credits?
yoursername: you're like 60 why do you know what pic credits are ??
user5: the illuminati is totally real đ
mclaren: đ
yourusername: NO THIS IS SO EMBARRASSING PLS LOOK AWAY
user6: no offense, but how did you stumble across F2 oscar???
yourusername: my brother is like a HUGE f1, 2, AND 3 nerd and he always forces me to watch races with him đŁ
yourbrothersuser: you literally ask me to tell you when oscar's back on the screen???
yourusername: okay kill yourself????
yourbrothersuser: @/yourmomsuser
yourusername: GOD YOU ARE SUCH A SNITCH
ynupdates: y/n and her brother; jacob, were seen at the airport earlier today, she later posted the picture on the right, on her story, confirming that she is in fact traveling. y/n has no shows coming up, and she rarely travels with jacob. thoughts?
view comments below!
user7: guys guys..the monaco grand prix in literally in two days.
user8: SHES GOING TO THE GRAND PRIX. I KNOW IT.
user9: why's her brother kinda??
user10: you can't even see his face đđ?
user9: I CAN JUST TELL
user11: everyone saying she's going to the grand prix are like getting my hopes up??????
user12: WATCH HER GO SOMEWHERE COMPLETELY DIFFERENT đ
user13: okay guys..but we never talked about what songs could be about oscar
user14: IVE DONE SO MUCH THINK ABOUT THIS!!!
user13: GIRL PLEASE TELL
user14: OKAY OKAY!! one that REALLY stands out to me is "my love mine all mine" because, we all know y/n has never had a boyfriend before, SO when she writes love songs, obviously people speculate that she's in a relationship
user14: WHEN SHE WAS ASKED ABOUT THE INSPIRATION FOR "my love mine all mine" she said "i sadly do not have a boyfriend yet. but there is someone i've had my eye on for some time." SHE COULD HAVE BEEN TALKING ABOUT OSCAR AND WE DIDNT EVEN NOTICE
user15: istg if y/n doesn't show up in the paddock tomorrow, i will throw a fit.
liked by mclaren, f1, yourbrother, and 837,938 others!
yourusername: i could tell you where i am and what im doing, but its funny reading the theories
view comments below !
user15: are you going to a secret illuminati meeting user16: pls y/n pls just tell us
user17: this is cruel AND YOU KNOW IT
user18: pls lord, let y/n go to the monaco grand prixđđ
user19: there's no way she ISNT going to the grand prix, i mean she's with her brother, and he's literally like the biggest f1 fan ever?? why else would they be traveling together
user20: maybe they're traveling together because they're siblingsđđ ?? it doesn't have to connect to f1
yourbrothersuser: y/n pls put the phone down. i need a good nights rest for tomorrow.
user21: TOMORROW ???? IS ??? THE ???? GRAND ??? PRIX ??? ARE ???? YOU ??? GUYS ???? GOING ????
ynupdates: it seems like the rumors are true! y/n and jacob are currently at the grand prix!
view comments below!
user 22: 1 FUCKING KNEW IT
user23: everyone knew it...
user24: WHOO CAREEESSS oscar and y/n interaction WHEN ???
user25: ugh i NEED grid x y/n interactions RN
user26: y/n this, oscar that. WHAT I NEED IS TO SEE Y/NS BROTHER MEET MAX
user27: omg can you imagine how happy he is rn
â mclaren has posted new photos!
liked by yourusername, f1, yourbrother, landonorris, oscarpiastri and 837,938 others!
mclaren: monaco was a dream! thank you y/n for joining us view comments below!
view comments below!
user28: 1 SHOULVE BEEN THERE. I COULDVE METY/N. THAT SHOULDVE BEEN ME.
yourusername: thank you for having međ§Ą
user29: okay now make oscar and y/n kiss
yourbrothersuser: thank you for making my dream come true đđ
redbullracing: @/yourusername our garage next
yourusername: i think @/yourbrothersuser would enjoy that more then i ever could
redbullracing: he's always welcome to join đ
yourbrothersuser: AHHHHHH OMG OMG
user30: okay now more grid x y/n content
user31: the way this became like a meet and greet for y/n was INSANE
user32: who would've thought there would be so many y/n fans at a F1 race??
user33: everyone's a y/n l/n fan.
â y/n has posted new photos!
liked by, mclaren, landonorris, oscarpiastri 763,928 others!
yourusername: do you think he'll try weed with me now that he's my boyfriend?
view comments below !
user34: EXCUSE ME BOYFRIEND???
user35: OMG Y/N GOT HER FIRST BOYFRIEND!! ĐĐĐĐĐĐ
user36: OSCAR AND Y/N??? HELL YEAH
user37: okay let's just pretend that doesn't say what it says đ
yourmanger: y/n please change that caption.
yourusername: i don't know how âčïž
user38: WHO CARES ABOUT THE CAPTION!!! Y/N AND OSCAR SHIPPERS RISE
mclaren: in case that caption isn't a joke, y/n please refrain from getting our drivers high.
yourusername: YOU GUYS ARE NO FUNN
user39: i love how public y/n is. like she genuinely acts like she doesn't have millions of followers
oscarpiastri: love i already told you, we cant get high.
yourusername: YOU WOULD IF YOU LOVED ME.
maxverstappen1: i'll get high with you y/n đââïž
redbullracing: no you will not.
#oscar piastri social media au#oscar piastri smau#oscar piastri x y/n#oscar piastri fanfic#oscar piastri x you#oscar piastri#oscar piastri x reader#oscar piastri fluff#oscar piastri f1#f1 x female reader#f1 x y/n#f1 social media au#f1 x you#f1 imagine#f1 fic#f1 fanfic#f1 x reader
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